The doorbell rings.
Before I can stand, my aunt walks through the door and drops her purse in the entryway. In her right hand, she fists a wine bottle. Just what my mom needs. More wine. “That mother-fucker should be shot,” she announces, setting the bottle on a side table and rushing to my mom’s side. “What a fucking prick.”
This is the aunt I know and love. I can see where Brooke gets her potty mouth as Aunt Shelley continues calling my dad every nasty name in the book.
My mom breaks down into tears as my aunt rushes to her side and pulls her into a bear hug. My mom sobs, the sound tearing at my soul.
I swallow hard. Like my day hasn’t been shitty enough. This is the cherry on the sundae.
“I’ll let you guys talk,” I tell them and wonder if either of them hear me. My aunt does nod, though. I walk to my room, shut the door and fall face first onto my bed.
Fuck my life. I don’t know whether to cry, scream into my pillow, or get my dad on the phone and call him every derogative word I know for being a cheating mother-fucker. I hate him. I hate what he’s done to us. What he’s made my mom into—a sad, bitter, lonely woman who has lost all her confidence.
She deserves so much better.
My phone rings. I glance at it and see that it’s Brooke. I’m sure her mom told her the news.
Speaking of my aunt—her voice keeps getting louder. I put my pillow over my head and try to ignore the horrible thoughts racing through my mind, but it’s impossible. The pain eats away at me. You’d think my dad would have been decent enough to let my mom know before his girlfriend took the news public. Hell, how about letting his children know.
What a douchebag.
I turn off the ringer to my phone and place it in my nightstand drawer. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling fan. Someone, please stop the world. I want off.
My phone keeps vibrating and I just turn it off, throw the covers over my head, put my earbuds in and crank my favorite song as loud as it will go.
Right about now, I wouldn’t mind being numb. I want to forget about life in general.
I think about the medications that were in Brooke’s cupboard. I still wonder what she is on and how come she has taken so many pills. A part of me is afraid of knowing the truth. Brooke is my only lifeline right now. She keeps me busy and sane from the chaos my life has become.
I go to my door, open it and listen. My mom is still bawling, so I cross to her room and quickly go into her bathroom.
My mom has been to the doctor’s office a few times since the breakup with my dad. There are three bottles in her cabinet. I don’t recognize any of the names, but I do recognize a medication for depression, and another for anxiety. The other one I’m clueless about. My mom used to rarely take an aspirin when she had a headache. That has definitely changed. Yet another reason to hate my dad.
I open the lid of the anxiety medication and pour a few of the small pills into my palm. I swallow one, pocket the ones in my hand, and set the bottle back into the cabinet. I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment and for a split second I think about putting the pills back before I turn off the light and go back to my room.
Sliding under my covers, I close my eyes and try not to think of everything that is wrong with my life.
Within fifteen minutes, I begin to experience a lightheaded feeling that I welcome. I put my earbuds back in and drift off to sleep.
When I wake up, I’m stunned to see my clock radio reads nine-twenty.
I slept the entire evening away?
My door opens and my aunt stands there. “Your mom is lying down.”
“Good,” I say. “She needs sleep.”
She’d already been buzzed when I got home from school. I’m sure she’d been completely shitfaced by the time they polished off the second bottle of wine.
“You okay to drive?”
She nods. “I had one glass and that was hours ago. I’ve never been much of a drinker.” She hesitates for a second. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, but I’d like you to lock the front door behind me.”
“Sure.”
I walk her to the front door where she turns. “Brooke really loves having you here, Kenz. I know it was tough to leave California and your friends, but you have family here now.”
I return her smile. “Brooke’s been awesome,” I say. “And so have you.”
“We’re family, hon. That’s what we do.”
Her gaze is intense and I shift on my feet.
“Brooke said you seemed down today. In fact, she called a few times tonight asking about you.”
“I’m just a little homesick.”
“I understand. I hope you eventually feel like Vancouver is your home.”
I hope so, too, but right now, I can’t see beyond my pain and anger. “Thanks for coming over, Aunt Shelley.”
“Anytime you need me, just call. That’s the benefit of us living ten minutes away.” She reaches out, puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re struggling, too. None of this is easy and I’m just so proud of you for how you are handling yourself.” She’s staring into my eyes and I hope she won’t be able to tell I took something.
“I appreciate that.”
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you later.”
I wait until she gets to her car before I shut and lock the door. I turn off the lights in the kitchen and living room, and then check on my mom. Her face is still streaked with tears, but at least she is zonked out, her mouth wide open.
My heart squeezes. Where has that strong, overly-confident woman gone? It’s amazing that a man can so easily destroy what she’s spent a lifetime building. I think of my relationship with Ryder, if it can be called that. At least, he doesn’t fake it. I wonder how long my dad faked it with my mom while he had his mistress on the side.
I cross the room and give my mom a kiss on the forehead. My throat tightens as I watch her even breathing. One day, she will find a man who will appreciate her.
Kind of like one day, I will find a guy who appreciates me…
***
Morning comes too soon.
I hear my mom milling around and decide to take a shower before I face her. I stand under the spray for ten minutes, the small window of time that I have before the hot water tank runs out.
When I get out of the shower, I finally check my phone. I have eight messages, six from Brooke and two from Sadie.
Shocker, none are from Ryder.
I text Brooke and tell her I’m taking my car this morning.
She texts right back and argues that I still have California plates.
I so don’t care what anyone thinks at this point.
I pop half of an anxiety pill before class. Brooke comes up from behind me, her hands over my eyes. “Guess who?”
“Um, Brooke.”
She laughs. “Hey, rough night, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Sorry I stalked you last night, but I was worried. Mom was really concerned before she went over. She said you fell asleep early.”
I nod.
“You had Ryder worried, too.”
So worried he hadn’t bothered to call or text?
Speaking of Ryder, he is heading my way.
Because of how mad he makes me, I hate how attracted I am to him. Today, he looks especially smoking hot in a plain white, v-neck t-shirt that clings to his narrow waist and hips, too. I think of all the girls who were at that college party and how badly they wanted to be acknowledged by him...and yet he was with me. If he wants to be with me, then why can’t he just show it? I think, hating the conflict going on in my own mind.
I understand that guys like Ryder normally can’t be held down by just one girl, but maybe I hoped that I could change him. That I could be the one who made him feel differently, despite the fact of what Brooke told me in the beginning. The last thing I need to do is act like I’m butt-hurt, though. Nothing can make a guy run for the hills faster than a clingy chick and I have no intentions of being that g
irl. Look at how my dad had reacted the more my mom had hung on. He seemed borderline disgusted and, honestly, I don’t need any more drama in my life than I already have.
“I missed you last night,” Ryder says.
I’m surprised that Brooke stays right with us.
“I fell asleep early,” I reply.
He watches me closely, his gaze searching mine. Obviously, he isn’t used to being on the receiving end of rejection. Not that I am rejecting him, but I’m sure he’s never once been the one who did the chasing in a relationship. If he asks someone to be at a practice, I’m sure they show up, grateful to be the object of his affection for that night.
“Can I drive you home from school today?”
Brooke nudges me. Ryder’s thumb brushes over mine and he smiles. Figures, the day I drive to school is the day he would ask to take me home. I realize I haven’t even been in his car yet. “I drove today.”
He sighs heavily. “We’ll make plans later then. I’ll text you.” He leans in and kisses me. It’s a soft peck on the lips, but everyone in the hallway sees it. His hand slides over mine, and then we are walking down the hall together, hand in hand.
What just happened? I am stunned.
Apparently, so are a lot of other people as they watch with surprised expressions.
Miss Loray’s brows nearly touch her hairline when we enter class, still holding hands. Ryder walks me to my chair and even pulls it out for me.
During art class, every time I look up, Ryder is watching me. I smile and feel my fears subside.
Maybe I’d been wrong about Ryder.
Ryder holds my hand after class and we part ways in the hallway after a quick kiss.
I go from being bummed out to ecstatic.
During English, a piece of paper is thrown at me. It hits me in the head and lands by my feet. I don’t have to guess who it is from. Laura sits two seats over from me.
When the teacher isn’t looking, I bend over and pick it up.
COKE WHORE. You should go back to where you came from.
I’ve never in my life been accused of being a whore, let alone a druggie. The words cut to the core and I wonder if maybe word has gotten around about me waking up next to Ryder the morning after the college party. But who would say anything? It had just been our little group there, and only Brooke and Ryder go to school with me.
Then, I think of the redhead who had been with Deklan. I don’t know her at all. She could be a student at Pacific, or she could have good friends who go here.
Word travels fast, though, wherever you live, and I have little doubt that it won’t take long before all of Pacific hears the news. At least Ryder is acting like my boyfriend now.
The bell rings and almost immediately after I have a text that reads, Meet me in the parking lot.
Ryder stands by my car, hands crossed over his chest, watching me. “Nice wheels.”
“It’s hardly as nice as your car.”
“We both have silver cars,” he states the obvious. “Can I see the inside?”
His tone matches his expression. I’m in trouble.
“Sure.” I unlock the car and he slides into the passenger’s seat.
“Clean,” he comments, glancing into my backseat. “Your cousin could take a lesson from you.”
I laugh.
His hand slides to my thigh and he leans in, kissing me lightly on the lips. “So...what was up last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why didn’t you show up at practice?”
“I told you...I fell asleep.”
He shakes his head. “There’s something more. You’ve been acting different the past few days.”
I can’t deny I’ve been distracted of late. “I just have a lot going on at home. My mom’s having a rough time right now.”
“Yeah, Brooke said it’s been rough.” He reaches up and brushes a thumb over my jaw. “It will get easier. Trust me.”
Trust him? Do I dare? Looking into his intense blue eyes, I want to believe him. I want to trust him. I want just to feel like me again.
He kisses me again, this time with more intensity. I hear a sexy whistle coming from nearby and Ryder smiles against my lips then sighs. “Are you coming to Deklan’s tomorrow night?”
“I’ll have to see. My brother’s coming into town.”
“Please come,” he says, kissing me again. “I want you there.”
CHAPTER 12
The golden child arrives on time and he calls me on my cell to let me know he’s waiting patiently for me, as I am “ridiculously late”. Apparently being ten minutes late is ridiculous by his standards. I’m so freaking tempted to pull over and let him actually have to wait even longer. I can’t count the times I stood outside my school, waiting for him to pick me up.
“Where the hell are you?” His voice holds a familiar irritation, a tone I’ve heard too often in my lifetime.
Such a dick…
“See you in a minute.” I hang up before he can say anything else. The second I round the corner, I see Mr. Golden Boy standing on the curb, waving me down. Like I can’t see his six-foot-two frame, or his golden-boy good looks, or the letterman’s jacket.
The temptation to drive right past him is nearly overwhelming, but I pull over next to the curb.
“About time,” he says, tossing his bag in the backseat. The entire car shifts as he settles into the passenger’s seat. “I see some habits die hard.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.” I pull away from the curb and nearly side-swipe a motorcycle. The guy honks his horn and I wave and flash him my wince face.
“Um...do I need to drive?”
Although Cole has a smirk on his lips, he is dead serious.
“I’m capable.” I flash a sugary sweet smile and watch my side mirrors.
He gives a loud yawn and asks, “So...how is Washington treating you, Kenz?”
“I like it,” I reply. “How’s Seattle?”
“Amazing.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t stand the rain, but the chicks are smokin’ hot.”
Of course. And I’m sure he has his fair share of women.
“How’s Mom doing?”
“She’s been better.” I hesitate to say too much. “It’s been really rough since hearing about his engagement.”
“Yeah, I was surprised when Dad told me.”
I nearly rear-end the car in front of me. Dad called to tell him the news about the engagement and yet I have to find out by way of my distraught mother who found out by way of a social network. What the hell?
Cole is Mom’s boy and I’m Daddy’s girl. That’s how it’s always been, but apparently, I’m wrong and that’s changed. My heart pumps in triple time as I try to ignore the pain coursing through me. “What did he say?”
“He wanted to see how school was and make sure I was doing okay.”
Seriously? Yeah, I’m sure the adjustment of going to the college of your dreams is a real nightmare compared to being yanked out of private school and thrust into a public school nearly eleven hundred miles away from the only city you called home. Oh yeah, and left to deal with your grieving mother who has taken up drinking a bottle of wine every evening while taking antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications just to get her through the day.
Who am I kidding—I’m medicating myself just as much to get through my life.
My gut clenches. What a prick! If possible, I am even more furious with my dad for blowing me off and not caring enough to worry about how I’m doing.
“I told him to give you a call.”
How gracious of him. “Well, he didn’t call.”
The information burns like salt in a wound. My dad hasn’t given me the time of day for months now. When my parents were together and Dad had been away on business, he would call my mom every single night and he’d always ask to talk to us kids. Since Cole had rarely been home, it ended up being me that he usually spoke with.
“He actually flew into Seattle a
nd saw me. He introduced Elle to me.”
I swallow past the tightness in my throat. I can’t believe what I am hearing. My dad flew all the way to Seattle to see his son and yet he can’t pick up the phone to call me? “And you didn’t tell Mom?”
“That’s part of why I came home this weekend. I wanted to talk to her. I could hear the pain in her voice when she told me she’d heard the news.” He clears his throat. “I just want to be there for her.”
“What does she look like?” I’ve seen the grainy pictures of my dad’s future wife online, but I’m curious what this woman, who has destroyed our family, looks like face-to-face.
“I have a picture of her on my phone.”
I immediately pull into a gas station parking lot.
Cole hands me his cell and I reach for it with a shaking hand.
My dad looks like a stranger to me. He’s dropped at least ten pounds since the last time I’ve seen him, his hair is longer and curling at the ends. He’s even dressed differently in a t-shirt and jeans. He always wore slacks and button down shirts before.
Obviously he is having to work at looking younger these days.
Cole stands in between Dad and the young woman who completely destroyed my mom and my life.
I want to ask my brother how he could stand there with a big ass smile on his face and his arm around the woman who is the reason for our misery.
It’s like Cole reads my mind. “My roommate offered to take the picture. Trust me, I didn’t want it, but I couldn’t very well say no.”
“Why not?”
“Like you would have said no.” His tone says he doesn’t believe me.
“You could have deleted the picture after.”
I feel betrayed, so I can only imagine how devastated mom will be seeing a picture of her favorite child with the woman who stole her husband.
No wonder Cole was so determined to come home this weekend. He has to save face with Mom.
“Are you going to show her the picture?”
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?”
Was he actually asking me my opinion? “My initial reaction is absolutely not, but I guess it depends on how the weekend goes. You’re going to tell her that Dad came to see you, right?”
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