Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2)

by H. L. Karhoff

  “A book,” Devon answered. “You get them at the library or in a bookstore.” The sarcasm in his voice made me chuckle.

  “Hardy har har, asshole,” Jeremiah retorted.

  Jake picked up the remote and clicked on the television. He flipped through channels until he landed on a baseball game. Jeremiah glared at Devon for a minute longer, then opened his beer and turned his attention to the television screen.

  Devon’s hand brushed my knee, and I looked at him.

  “You ready to go?” He nodded at the door.

  “Sure.”

  I stood, turned, and waited for Devon to join me. He held his breath as he pushed himself to the front of the couch. Although he’d gained back most of his mobility, certain things still bothered him, like standing after he’d sat for a while.

  Jeremiah watched, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. That Devon’s pain amused him cemented my dislike of the brute. I couldn’t believe I’d once considered him a friend, let alone kissed him. He was every bit as horrible as I’d thought the first time I saw him.

  Devon wavered as he rose to his feet. I reached for his arm to steady him, and he shot me an annoyed glance.

  “I got it,” he said.

  “Sure about that, D?” Jeremiah laughed.

  Devon rolled his shoulders back, glaring at Jeremiah. “We can go right now, asshole.”

  “Nope. Nope. Let’s go.” I pushed Devon toward the door.

  Jeremiah chuckled behind me. I wanted to tell him off, but I decided my energy would be best spent directing Devon out of the trailer. As soon as we were on the porch steps, Devon jerked away from me, kicked a post at the top of the stairs, and cursed.

  I walked up behind him. Sliding my arms around him, I laid my face against his back. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just being a jerk.”

  “I could have taken him,” Devon replied.

  “No, you couldn’t. You’re already hurt.”

  Grabbing my hand, he pulled me in front of himself. “I’m not some weak piece of shit you have to protect, Tori. I’ve taken on bigger guys than that asshole and won. He got lucky. That’s all.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Yeah, just ‘okay.’ Devon, I will not apologize for stopping you from doing something stupid, which is what that was. And I won’t stop trying to protect you. Ever. So, if that’s what you’re pissed about, you can just stay pissed.”

  I tugged my hand free of his grasp and walked down the porch steps. He watched me until I’d reached the passenger door of his truck, then joined me in the gravel yard.

  “You’re scary sometimes, you know that?” He smirked as he opened my door.

  I climbed into the truck. Turning to face him, I grabbed his shirt, pulled him toward me, and kissed him. “Yep.”

  Twenty-Three

  Mom scanned the front room. “I think I forgot something.”

  “Do you have your purse? Keys? Extra clothes?” James asked, and Mom nodded to each question. “Then I’m sure you have everything. Let’s go.”

  “Come, give me a hug.” Mom looked at me.

  “Okay.” I sighed.

  I trudged to where she stood and gave her a weak excuse for a hug. She kissed my forehead, then turned to Chris. He scrunched his face when she embraced him, grimacing at the feel of her lips on his cheek. Mom had not been affectionate toward us in years aside from the occasional “sweetheart” or “honey.” Those were terms of endearment, not physical contact.

  “I love you two,” Mom said, grabbing the door handle to hold herself up and taking slow breaths through her clenched teeth.

  Chris tried to grab her other arm, but she waved him off.

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “Thank you, Christian.” Once her breath returned to normal she straightened. “You two be good for your grandmother.”

  “We will, Mom. Love you,” Chris and I both grumbled.

  “James will call after the baby’s born.” She swept her fingers down my face and set her hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Your grandma wants you to bring her up tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Chris grumbled.

  “We’ll miss you,” I said, nudging Chris.

  “Yeah.” Chris nodded. “We’ll miss you.”

  Mom gave us each one more hug before James dragged her out the door. “I love you.”

  Neither of us cared about staying home with our grandmother—the one that would fall asleep in a few hours and leave us to do as we pleased. We put on a show to make our mother happy. If she thought we would be distraught, she wouldn’t worry about what mischief we’d get into. So, we both frowned as we watched her walk down the sidewalk to the minivan. Chris waved goodbye. I pretended to wipe away a tear. In my head I was already counting down the minutes until eight o’clock when Grandma would excuse herself to the guest room—now Candy’s room—and I could call Devon.

  We had pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans for dinner. I ate until my stomach felt like it would burst, then got up to do the dishes. Grandma swatted at me to go have fun and let her take care of the chores. I didn’t argue. It was nice not being forced to clean up.

  “Is it okay if I go over to Beck’s?” Chris asked as he carried his plate to the sink.

  “Yes, dear,” Grandma answered. “I didn’t expect you’d want to spend all your time with an old lady. Go have fun.”

  Chris kissed Grandma on the cheek before jogging out the door.

  “What about you, sweet girl?” Grandma looked at me. “Do you have any plans this evening?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Really?” She arched her eyebrow, and it surprised me how much she looked like my mother. “It’s Friday night. Don’t young people go out anymore on Friday night?”

  “Yeah. But I’m grounded.” I slid onto a stool opposite her at the bar. “Didn’t Mom tell you?”

  “Grounded? For what?”

  “Being late.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose we could pretend you’re not grounded, and you could go out, anyway.”

  I smiled. “Maybe later. My friends are all busy right now.”

  “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” She looked at me again.

  “Nope.” I sucked in my lips, my mouth forming a line across my face. Lying to my mother was one thing, lying to Grandma another. I hated it. Considering she’d just said I could go out even though I was grounded, she might not tell my mom. But she also might. I couldn’t take the chance.

  “A pretty girl like you?” She seemed surprised.

  “I’m not that pretty, Grandma. I’m fat, for one thing.”

  “Nonsense.” She set the dish rag on the sink divider and turned squarely toward me. “You are not fat, young lady.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You may not be anorexic like those girls on magazine covers, but you’re not fat. Boys like a girl with a little meat on her bones.”

  “It’s more than a little,” I said.

  “That’s enough, Victoria.” Her voice grew stern. “I will not stand here and listen to this. You’re a beautiful girl.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled.

  “You’re welcome.” She turned back to the sink.

  I dropped from the stool and wandered into the front room. The clock on the mantle said a quarter to seven. Grandma may have given me permission to ignore my grounding, but I still had to wait for Devon to get off work. I plopped onto the couch, turned on the television, and surfed through channels to pass the time. As I settled on something to watch, the doorbell rang. I looked at the door as if it offended me, then got up to answer it.

  “Hi, Tori.” Joy beamed with excitement. She carried a red tin in her hands. “Where’s Grandma?”

  “In the kitchen,” I answered, waving to the kitchen doorway with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

  “Why are you here?” She scrunched her brow at me as she walked in the door.

  “Because I live here.”

  “No, I
mean. Why aren’t you with Devon?”

  “He’s at work. He doesn’t get off until seven-thirty.”

  “No, he’s not.” She shook her head. “He’s at Carter’s playing video games.”

  “How do you know?” I scowled.

  “I just got off the phone with Carter.”

  “Oh. Maybe he got off early.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged and skipped into the kitchen. “Hi, Grandma.”

  “Well, hello, JoyAnn.” I could hear the smile in Grandma’s voice.

  “Mom asked me to bring this to you,” Joy said. I assumed she meant the red tin.

  “How sweet.” Grandma chuckled.

  I looked at the television, grabbed the remote and clicked it off. Walking into the kitchen, I tried not to make direct eye contact with Joy or Grandma. Getting sucked into their conversation was not on my to-do list. I took the cordless phone off the charger and turned back to the front room.

  “Did you change your mind about going out, sweet girl?” Grandma asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “If that’s okay.” I glanced at my grandmother long enough to get her approval, then scooted into the front room.

  I waited until I was out of earshot to dial Carter’s number. The line rang six times before Carter picked up, giggling.

  “Is Devon there?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” More giggles. “Just a sec.” Carter partially covered the receiver. “Hey, man . . . Dude. Hey . . . it’s Tori.”

  “You’re not Tori.” Devon laughed at his own observation.

  “No, dude,” Carter said. “On the phone.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  The phone shuffled hands longer than necessary for Carter to hand the receiver to Devon. I pictured one of them dropping it and scrambling to pick it up.

  “Hey,” Devon finally said.

  “Hi,” I replied. “Did you get off early?”

  He snort-laughed. “I’ve never really had that problem.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I meant.”

  His voice raised several octaves. “Tori is not amused.”

  Carter laughed in the background and did his own impersonation of Queen Victoria complete with a high-pitched British accent.

  “Oh, my god.” I stifled a giggle. “You two are such dorks.”

  After a fit of obnoxious guffaws and chortles, Devon returned to the phone. “So, what’s up, baby doll?”

  “My grandma said I could go out if I wanted,” I said. “So, if you want to pick me up . . .”

  “Yeah. Yeah,” he replied. “Yo, Car, you want to pick Tori up?”

  “Totally,” Carter answered. “Tori’s so much fun.”

  “We’ll be there in ten.” Devon spoke through the phone. “That cool?”

  “Uh-huh.” I smiled. “See you then. Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” he replied.

  Carter made smooching sounds.

  “Shut it, dick-weed,” Devon grumbled. “See you in a bit, baby doll.”

  As Devon hung up the phone, Carter half-yelled, half-laughed in the background. I imagined Devon punishing Carter for his mockery. The image made me chuckle.

  I took the phone back to the kitchen, still smiling. Grandma paused her conversation with Joy to look at me.

  “Good phone call, sweet girl?” Grandma asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I’m going to meet some friends in town, if you’re still cool with it.”

  “I’m still cool with it,” Grandma replied.

  I laughed, leaving the kitchen and hurrying up to my room. Sweatpants and a T-shirt were not appropriate Devon-seeing attire. I rifled through my closet for something sexier: a black crop top and pleated skirt. Devon would salivate over the amount of visible skin. Perfect.

  As I bounced downstairs, Grandma arched her eyebrow. “Did you forget the rest of your clothes upstairs?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Does your mother allow you to dress like that?”

  In less than five seconds my grandmother had gone from being “cool with it” to a complete drag. She insisted I wasn’t leaving the house looking like a trollop, so I went back to my room, less gleeful, and changed. When I returned, I’d switched into a long gray skirt, a white tank top, and sandals.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Much.” Grandma nodded. “Have fun with your friends, sweet girl.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled as I grabbed my purse and hurried out the door. There would be no salivating, but at least I’d get to spend a few hours with Devon, which was more than I’d expected after James’ tirade the night before.

  I had missed curfew by less than five minutes. A train blocked Main, so Devon had to drive around. I tried explaining to James—minus the part about Devon—but he wouldn’t hear it. He accused me of ignoring the rules and sentenced me to two weeks in my room.

  A French fry sailed through the air. Maimy took cover behind Jake. I ducked. The fry landed next to Lexie’s soda. She picked it up and launched it back at Jeremiah. More fries took flight. They rained down on both sides of the aisle between the two booths the out-crowd occupied in the back corner of Twyla’s.

  “You kids! Stop that!” A husky, red-headed woman barked. She wore a white apron, had her hair pulled back in a severe bun, and carried a broom. “Get out, all of you.” She waved her broom at us.

  Laughing, we piled out of the booths. Devon laid his arm on my shoulders as we left the diner. He paused at the door to kiss my temple.

  “Glad you got to come out,” he said.

  “Me, too.” I smiled.

  With Carter in a headlock, Jeremiah rushed around us through the door.

  “Hey,” Devon called after them. “Let him go.”

  Jeremiah pulled Carter through the parking lot. Carter struggled to keep up, tripping over his own feet and Jeremiah’s. Maimy, Jake, Claire and Lexie followed in amusement. Once they’d reached Jeremiah’s truck, Jeremiah spun Carter around and released him.

  “Asshole.” Carter spat, rubbing his neck.

  Maimy leaned back against Jeremiah’s truck. She grabbed Jake’s shirt and pulled him to her. They’d been fighting earlier in the night, so it didn’t surprise me they were all over each other. It was their routine: fight, make out, fight, make out. I wondered if they didn’t invent excuses to get angry, so they had a reason to make up.

  “That lady was hilarious,” Lexie said.

  “I know,” Claire replied.

  Devon grabbed Carter’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Carter nodded, putting his hand down and rolling his shoulders. “I’m out.”

  “Ah. Come on, Car.” Jeremiah chuckled. “Don’t be a baby.”

  “Fuck off.” Carter raised his middle finger as he skulked to his car. The blue-gray Oldsmobile roared to a start followed by the radio. Carter sped out of the parking lot. He turned left toward downtown rather than toward Chase’s trailer.

  Jeremiah chuckled. “Poor little guy. He’s taking his ball and going home.”

  Jake and Maimy dislodged their tongues from each other’s mouths to laugh.

  “Why do you have to be such an asshole?” I glared at Jeremiah.

  “Me?” Jeremiah put his hand to his chest. “I was just messing with the little shit. Not my fault he takes everything so personally.”

  “Who needs him?” Claire said. “Mouthy nerd gets on my nerves, anyway.”

  Devon looked at me. Under his breath, he whispered, “Let’s go,” and nodded to his truck.

  “Okay,” I whispered back.

  “Yo, man, where are you going?” Jake asked as Devon and I walked away.

  “I got to get Tori home,” Devon answered. “Catch up with you guys later.”

  “Yeah. See you, man,” Jake replied.

  Devon lit a cigarette. I waited until we’d gotten out of earshot before I reminded him I didn’t have a set curfew. My grandmother slept like a rock. As long as I made it home before sunrise, she wouldn’t know
when I got home.

  “I know.” Devon nodded. “I wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks warmed.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Uh-hm.” I smiled.

  “Good.” He squeezed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.

  Twenty-Four

  I ran my fingers through Devon’s hair. He snuggled into my chest, his arm draped across my stomach.

  “Devon?” I asked. “Are you awake?”

  No response. Not even a snore.

  “Devon?”

  I lifted his arm. His hand hung limp from his wrist. He’s asleep. Great. I laid his arm back across my stomach. Guess I’ll figure out how to entertain myself. I glanced around the room. A book lay on his nightstand with his glasses folded on top. Next to that, his cigarettes and scratched silver lighter, a wind-up alarm clock, an ashtray, and a metal lamp. Devon didn’t own much. Aside from books and his guitar, nothing in the room said anything about him. It could have been anyone’s room.

  I wonder if that’s from being in foster care. Maybe they didn’t let him have a lot of stuff or he left it at his brother’s or something. He said he had clothes there. He might have left other stuff there, too.

  The familiar pressure of a full bladder drew my attention. I wiggled out from under Devon, moving a pillow under his head, and tiptoed to his dresser. The second drawer scratched against the side as I slid it open. Shit. I glanced back at Devon. He rolled over but didn’t open his eyes. Pulling out one of his shirts, I tugged it on, closed the drawer, and scurried into the hall. The silence in the trailer felt odd. As far as I could tell, Devon and I were alone.

  After I’d emptied my bladder, I washed my hands and checked my overall appearance in the mirror. Devon had turned my hair into a tangled mess. I couldn’t run my fingers through it without getting snagged.

  Wonderful. I went back to his room and looked for my clothes. I’d tucked a hair tie into my pocket before leaving the house. As I sorted through the pile on the floor, I moved Devon’s pants. Something rattled. Hm.

  I held up his pants by the waist and gave them a good shake. Maybe it’s those pills he’s been taking. I wonder what they are. My fingers touched the top of his front pocket. No. I stopped. I shouldn’t. He’ll be furious if he finds out I went through his pockets. I stared at the faded blue jeans. But I want to know what he’s been taking, and it’s not like he’s going to tell me. He doesn’t tell me anything. I glanced at Devon to make sure he was still asleep, then shoved my hand into his pocket.