That left two options—kick down the door and say goodbye to his mother’s Christmas present, which he’d taken painstaking effort to secure, or spend the next few hours locked in a room with Claire McKinley.
When he felt her knowing gaze on him, he shot her a scowl. “What?”
“You’re considering ruining Shanna’s present, aren’t you?” she accused. “The idea of being alone with me is that undesirable?”
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed indignation. You’re not thrilled to be here with me, either.”
“No, but I’d suck it up if it meant Shanna gets her angel.” Claire paused. “I actually bought her a small crystal one for her birthday.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, for her collection. She loves those angels.”
“Yeah, she really does.”
They both went quiet. After a beat, Dylan sighed and lowered his tired body onto the bed. As he stretched out on his back, he saw Claire watching him with suspicious brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” he answered. “That angel was a bitch to get my hands on. I’m not going to destroy it just so I don’t have to spend a few hours with you.”
“Gee, thanks. Nice to know you’re willing to make such a big sacrifice.”
His nostrils flared. “Does the sarcasm ever stop?”
“Does the good-guy act?”
“It’s not an act,” he retorted. “Whether you believe it or not, I actually am a good guy.”
“Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”
Her bitter tone was the last straw. The last few days had been taxing, both mentally and physically, and he had no desire to undergo a character assassination, especially when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
“You know what?” He abruptly moved into a sitting position and rested his curled fists on his thighs. “Maybe Aidan’s right. Maybe it’s time we let each other know exactly what we think of each other.”
“Fine,” she snapped back. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for more than a year out of respect for your mother and because Chris asked me not to interfere, but I’m not biting my tongue anymore.”
“Good. Let’s start then.” He set his jaw. “I’ll go first. I think you’re a snob.”
“Yeah? Well, I think you’re selfish.” Claire’s entire body was stiffer than a board as she sat at the foot of the bed and angled her body so they could glare at each other more easily.
“I think you’re disrespectful,” he told her.
“I think you’re a bad brother and a bad son.”
“I think you loved Chris’s money more than you loved him.”
“Oh, that’s rich, you bringing up money.” Her eyes blazed. “Because as far as I know, you haven’t sent a dime home this past year.”
“First of all, what’s it to you? And second, if you must know, I offered to help my mom out after she left her job, but she said she was doing okay for cash.”
“Left her job?” Claire shook her head in disbelief. “For f**k’s sake, you don’t have to pretend with me. I was going to marry your brother—I know why Shanna got fired.”
Surprise spiraled through him. “What did you say?”
“I said I know why she got—”
“Fired,” Dylan finished. A sick feeling rose in his chest. “What do you mean, she got fired?”
“Why are you playing dumb?”
“I’m not playing dumb. I’m honestly and thoroughly confused. I don’t know what Chris told you, but my mom quit her teller job at the bank. She said she was tired of all the politics there.”
When Claire didn’t respond, Dylan’s stomach churned some more, knots of worry twisting around his insides. Jesus. Was Claire actually telling the truth? Had Chris and Shanna been lying to him all these months?
“Tell me everything you know,” he ordered. “I mean it, Claire. Everything.”
Apprehension plagued her pretty features. “You don’t know what happened at the bank?”
He battled another rush of queasiness. “No.”
“Shanna got fired, Dylan.”
“You mean, laid off?”
“No, fired.” Claire’s tone grew pained. “She wasn’t showing up for work, and when she did, she’d be hours late.”
“Are you f**king with me here? Who told you that? Chris?”
“Yes. But I also spoke to your mom about it.” She hesitated. “I’m the one who got her in contact with the lady from—” She stopped without warning and averted her gaze.
“The lady from where?” he demanded.
Claire’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Gamblers Anonymous.”
Dylan felt like someone had dropped a cartoon anvil on his head. He literally got the wind knocked out of him, and all he could do was stare at Claire in wordless disbelief.
Her big brown eyes widened at his stunned expression. “You really didn’t know, did you?”
It took a few seconds to find his voice, which came out so hoarse it sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of gravel. “My mom has a gambling problem?”
Claire nodded.
“Since when?”
“I think it started a few months before Chris and I met. I guess she went to the casino with a few women from her gardening club and she caught the bug. She went back the next weekend on her own, and then the weekend after, and the one after that. Eventually she was going several times a week, which was when she started skipping out on work.”