Free Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) by K.L. Kreig Page B

my blood on fire like a certain tatted, Ducati-riding sex god who’s probably creeping around the apartment somewhere just waiting for me to emerge from my prison cell? I wish I knew the answer so I could fix it.
    “I’m so jealous. I haven’t had time to date in months.”
    “Guys are more trouble than they’re worth. Trust me.”
    “Maybe. But a girl needs to get laid every once in a while to keep the dust bunnies cleared.”
    “Landyn,” I cry. “For God sakes, I don’t need to hear you talk like that.” And I don’t want you to follow in your mother’s footsteps. Please, let this cycle break with Sam.
    “Why? You do know I’m not a virgin, right, Ad?”
    “How could I forget the detailed accounts of all your escapades?” I laugh. Landyn tends to be an over-sharer and there are some things about your sweet niece you just want to ignore. “Just…be picky, okay?”
    “I always am, Ad. You’re a good role model,” she answers quietly. Not hardly, however, I don’t correct her. I’ve fallen in love with the wrong men my entire life. I could already envision myself doing it yet again with my new roomie. I guess I’m not a quick learner.
    “How’s your mom?” I ask, changing the subject. I already know the answer. If I could, I would have raised Landyn myself, but being only three years older than her, that wasn’t really an option. Much like me, she’s an innocent caught in the crosshairs of the unfairness of life.
    My mom got pregnant with Sam when she was seventeen. She married Sam’s father and the relationship fizzled within two years. Good ol’ Mary tried her luck twice more before finally meeting my father. By that time, Sam was already ten and because her father was absent, Bob adopted her, treating her just like she was one of his own.
    Three years later Eric was born. Two more, and I came along. And nine years after that, they divorced. The reason? Like all others before him, Bob Monroe was imperfect. My dad was victim number four, but he was far from the last. My mother can’t be without a man any more than she can go without her daily bottle of five-dollar store-brand white zinfandel.
    My feelings about our estranged mother have always been a bone of contention between my sister and me. Unfortunately, Sam has followed too closely in my mother’s footsteps, so her judgment’s a tad clouded. Sam’s managed to maintain a good relationship with her, whereas I’m lucky if I talk to her once a year and that’s only because she calls me religiously on my birthday.
    I may be a horrible daughter, but the fact of the matter is…she was no PTA, cookie-baking mother of the year either. I’m not even sure she knows how to bake a cookie or work the oven for that matter.
    “You know…same old, same old,” her soft voice replies. It’s difficult sometimes to emotionally recover from a parent who’s fallen so far from the pedestal you put them on when you were a kid. Now I understand there’s nowhere to go but down once you’ve unfairly elevated them, or anyone, to that lofty platform. I try not to do that anymore. I wish Landyn and I didn’t share that camaraderie. Unfortunately, we do.
    “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
    “Yeah, well…you know how it is.”
    Boy, do I ever.
    “How’s work going?” I ask, changing the subject to lighten the mood. I don’t need to be a Debbie Downer when Cooper gets here.
    “Good. That’s actually the reason I was calling.”
    “Oh? What’s up?”
    Landyn finished nursing school last year, specializing in geriatrics of all things. I’m proud of her. She has the smarts to know this is an ever-expanding and growing field and she’ll have job security until she wants to retire.
    “I was thinking about coming up to see you sometime in the next few weeks.”
    “That would be awesome, Landyn.”
    Landyn still lives in Marion, Indiana with her mother and her mother’s newest boy toy, Fabron or Fabian or some stupid thing like that. I think my