Wincing at the sounds coming from inside the bathroom, I moved away from the door and then went back, trying the doorknob again. She’d locked me out. God knows I could help her, hold her hair and shit, but she actually locked me out.

Damn it all to hell and back again, I wanted to kick the door in.

But I didn’t. I’d seen the look on her face, like I’d crushed her. I didn’t get why.

I stared at the door, taking a deep breath. Why did you stop me? Did she really ask that question? Was she still drunk? It seemed obvious to me. Syd had been way too drunk to even be considering masturbation, let alone sex.

Backing away from the door, I turned and headed downstairs. I checked her phone—still didn’t work—and then I checked the news. Still calling for the storm of the century, and outside the snow was starting to really come down.

I did just about everything to stop myself from checking on Syd, or from really thinking about what she had asked me. I even called my mom.

She answered on the second ring, sounding breathless. “Hey honey, please tell me you’re not on your way home. I don’t want you trying to drive through a blizzard or putting Sydney in a car.”

My lips split into a grin. “We’re going to wait it out, Mom.”

“Good.” Relief was evident in her voice. “Tony and I were so worried you were going to try to get out of there and hit the storm on the way.”

I meandered through the various rooms, stopping in the sunroom. “What’s it doing there?”

“Snowing like crazy, honey,” she replied. “Did anyone else make it up there?”

“No.” I moved a plotted plant to a different stand. “They hit the snow coming up.”

“So, it’s just you and Sydney?”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Interesting.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, but she said it way too innocently. “Are you taking care of Sydney?”

I thought of last night. “Yeah, I always do.”

“That is true.” Another pause had my brows slamming down. So did not trust her silences. “You know, she treats you real good, honey.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“That’s a good girl with a good head on her shoulders. You’d be—”

“Okay,” I cut in. I was not having this conversation with her. There was only one other conversation I dreaded more than talking about girls with my mom.

Mom laughed and then she said, “Oh. Before I forget—Tony wants to take you to the club in Bethesda we’re looking into remodeling. He wants to see what you think of it.”

I came to a complete standstill. Aaand there was the other conversation. “Why?”