Go live your life.”He blinked. “Bos.” Nodded once. And turned, walking away from the hotel without looking back.I stood outside my mother’s home. Thick white flakes of snow fell around me, collecting in the seams of the black messenger bag over my shoulder. The snow was melting in my hair, sending trickles of icewater down the back of my neck.I stepped forward. Knocked.After a minute I heard someone inside the hall, saw a shadow move behind the glass. And then the door was open, and my mother was hugging me tight.“Joshua.”I was home.Everything in the house seemed the wrong size, as if I had grown while I was away, or the world had diminished.But dinner was everything I remembered. The goings-on in the village were the same stories, woven in a different yarn.The most surprising news was that my mother was dating. A nice man, Jamaican-Canadian, working in a logistics company. Divorced, no kids. I got the impression it was quite new for her, and still faintly shameful, but exciting at. “You only think you have a magic touch.”“It seems to have been enough for you,” he argues.Ivy grins, narrowing her eyes at him. “You know I like being watched.”“Haha,” he laughs. “You are a voyeuristic bitch!”She winks at the man, then get serious. “You’re here for something other than a social call. What is it?”“Fuck, your tits are fantastic,” Brady says to Gwen, ignoring the question from Ivy. He pulls the girl onto his lap, his hands going to her breasts almost involuntarily. He cups them and pushes them up and together. “I want to fuck these.”Gwen would like that and she wishes she could say it. But one of her first lessons was about not expressing feelings unless asked about or told to do. Right now, she feels like she needs some release. She is ready to explode!“Anyway,” Brady says, licking first one nipple and then the other. “I came to talk about my plan.”“Taking your place as the head of the family instead of your sister?” Ivy inquires.“You betcha,” he says, running his hand.
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