It’s not the first time. It should bother me that she’s moved on so quickly with someone she says means nothing to her. But it doesn’t.
It’s a complete and total kick-the-shoes-off-and-prop-them-feet-up relief. He can have her. I’ll even wrap her up in shiny foil paper and top her off with a sparkly bow.
“Do you know how embarrassed I am right now?” My father’s knuckles turn white from the tight grip he has on the steering wheel. “I was talking to Mission Jupiter right before I was about to walk on stage and announce them when a guard comes up and says my son has been detained for drinking.”
I’ve reached the point of ultimate misery from my binge. “Can you pull over? I’m going to be sick.”
He pulls on the shoulder, and I heave my guts out. My head thanks him for the remaining silent trip home.
“We’ll discuss your punishment bright and early after you’ve sobered up. No basketball practice for you in the morning.” He slams his door and walks inside, leaving me to stumble alone.
Chapter 8
My bags are in the back of Sebastian’s 4Runner, and he hasn’t stopped interrogating me since the Schneiders. We get to the fairgrounds, and I spot Theo at the entrance.
“He’s ready,” I say. “Now, shut up, drop him off, and take me to your house. I’m tired, and this has been too hard a day to spend the rest of the night listening to you yell.”
Theo gets in and closes the door. “You won’t believe what happened,” he says to Sebastian. Then, noticing me, he asks, “Wait a second, what are you doing here?”
Sebastian massages my hand then kisses it. “Never mind that. We could use a good story.”
I relax, thankful he knew not to bring up me getting kicked out.
Theo shrugs and tells us what happened to Zain.
Poor guy. Even single, Farren has him on a leash.
After hours of Sebastian tossing and turning in bed, I snap. “Would you stop?”
He lies on his back. “What the hell happened?”
“I got kicked out.”
“But why?”
I make a frustrated sound at the base of my throat. “Does it matter? I’m out.”
“I just don’t get it.” Sebastian runs his hands through his hair, showing off flexed muscles. “He called you a fickle whore? You haven’t even slept with me.”
“Exactly, he’s nuts.” I make circles with my finger over his chest, bunching his white t-shirt. Despite being tired, his concerned, deep brown eyes are a major turn on.
“Why now? You’ve been there a year.” He curls my hair around his index finger. “He’s never acted like that before, and I didn’t smell alcohol on his breath. And him asking if you complain about me in bed. What the hell?”
I give him a peck on the lips. “Just go to sleep.”
He releases my hair. “I can’t!”
I grunt and roll to my back. “Sebastian, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Just tell me. What did you blackmail him with that you don’t want me to know about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just trust me that I had a good reason and that I only had the truth.”
He sighs, gets out of bed, and washes his face.
I growl into a pillow. I get that secrets are frustrating, but he should trust me enough to let it go.
He stands at the bedside and crosses his arms. “I’m your boyfriend, and I demand to know.”
“Demand? You demand? And in what universe do I have to follow your demands?”
“You’re staying in my house. You’re sharing my bed. Give me something to work with.”
I bit my lip, causing the wound to reopen, which sets me off. “Sebastian, I don’t owe you my secrets. Today has been the worst birthday ever, and you’re making it about you. I’m the one who got kicked out and slandered. And I’m glad you didn’t think twice about letting me stay with you, but this is happening so fast. I don’t have time to make sense of it in my own head, much less explain it to you. So, can you please give me a break?”
“I’m sorry.” He sits and brings his knees to his chest. “I’m not used to this.”
His heavy brows furrow, and I want to kiss away the crease above his nose.
“Yeah, well, you’d better adapt fast because this isn’t going away.”
“I’ll try.”
He slides under the covers and wraps his arm around me, but I don’t feel relieved. I feel like he’s a pick, and I’m the cave he wants to excavate. I can’t fall asleep.
Soon enough, his alarm goes off, and I catch him dressing for basketball practice, but seeing him in his black and gray boxers does nothing for me. He’s aesthetically pleasing, and touching him would feel nice, but he doesn’t make my insides unravel.
I’m so mad he couldn’t trust me for just one night and be my support system without falling apart that I can’t revel in the fact we slept in the same bed together. I don’t feel any closer to him.
“This isn’t going to work,” I blurt before considering the outcome. I’ve thought about ending it over the past year. But every time I came close, he’d do something uncharacteristically sweet, and I’d remember why I like him so much. And there was never a fallback guy ready to swoop in. The only guy capable of making me feel nervous and giddy was Zain, but he was with Farren.
Dating Sebastian has been nice. He never ignores me or plays games. He’s not into PDA or using me as arm candy. He’s sweet and funny. If we were an arranged couple bound for marriage with no option of true love, I’d be ecstatic. But I do get to choose. And now that Zain’s single...
“What?”
“Sebastian, we need to breakup.” I can’t see continuing this any longer when I know I could have more, and he deserves someone who’d make him their first choice.
“What? Because of one bad night?”
He tugs on his socks. I squeeze my eyes shut and relax slightly at the thought of Zain. I wonder if last night would’ve been easier with him. He seems calmer than Sebastian.
“No, because you don’t know me. You don’t trust me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You got me free tickets for my birthday.”
“You said you weren’t mad about that.”
“I’m not, but it shows a lot that Zain gave me a personal gift. He knows me better than you do. I’m not mad. It’s just the truth. And with all that’s going on right now, I need to be around people who get me. I’m not ready or willing to explain myself to anyone, not even you.”
“Brayleigh, it was one night.”
Among several blah ones.
“And you never call me Bray.” It’s a stupid response, but it matters.
“What? You never told me to. Only Zain calls you that.”
“Yeah, because he gets me.” And there it is. The truth. I want Zain.
Sebastian swallows and balls his fist. “So, you find out Zain is single, and now you’re dumping me.”
My chest tightens. It makes me sound horrible, like I’ve just been dating him to pass the time. “It’s not like that. I’m just trying to make a point that you’re not the guy I need right now.”
“You really are fickle. Do you climb in his window at night?”
Screw feeling sorry for him. “Excuse you?”
“It’s a simple question. You’re always trying to sleep with me. Who else is there?”
“Sebastian?”
“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know you. I’m so stupid. I defended you. I could’ve gone to jail. But you don’t care. You only care about your secrets. And Zain.”
My secrets would hurt you, and I never intended to leave you for Zain, though I get how choosing passionate love I know I could get from Zain might seem like that. But it’s a coincidence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me!”
“I can’t!” Because you’d tell Zain, and no one would want me. Then I’d have more consequences than I already do.
“Then we’re done.”
“I already said that.”
He yanks off the covers, causing instant shivers, like he can’t stand me tainting his bed. “Try Zain’s house. I’m sure he’ll warm you.”
Chapter 9
The sun hasn’t even risen when my dad flips on my bedroom light and yells, “Up, now. You’d better be downstairs in five.”
A bass drum and a cymbal are competing for what can create the most excruciating pain in my head. Why didn’t I drink water before crashing last night? Maybe because I passed out the second my body hit the bed. I’m still in the same clothes I wore to the Jingle Jam, shoes and all.
I tap my phone. 5:45 a.m. If I make this quick, and it works out in my favor, I might be able to make it to practice just a few minutes late. That is, if I’m still on the team. I jump out of bed a little too quickly. My vision darkens with a wave of nausea.
Slow and steady, Zain.
My mom sits on a barstool at the kitchen island, a long pour of Rumchata turns her black coffee a caramel color, the smell of rum and cinnamon wafting through my nose. Guilt washes over me when her tired eyes stare me down. She’s not a morning person on the weekends. We’re not supposed to bother her until after eight or at least wait until the sun rises.
My dad’s the early bird, even on weekends. He works the morning shift for the local radio station starting at six every weekday.
I mouth, “I’m sorry,” as my dad faces away, turning his morning pick-me-up into a morning cocktail with a heavy splash of Kahlua.
Mom rubs my neck when I lay my head on the cool, granite countertop. Her hand retreats when my dad turns around.
“This is the third drinking incident in less than six months,” he says. “We’ve obviously been too lenient in the past since it seems you haven’t learned your lesson. You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested last night. Being eighteen and getting caught works a little differently than being seventeen and getting caught. It doesn’t get sealed away in a juvenile record like it did the last time you received a minor in possession.”
I remain silent, afraid any movement of my mouth will result in my head splitting into two parts.
“Your mom and I discussed punishment ideas and came to a consensus on three things. First, you need to clean the attic from top to bottom. Go through every box, organize it all into something meaningful and findable, and clean out every cobweb. I should be able to put a bed up there and sleep when you’re done.
“Second, you are going to volunteer for the next month with Candy Cane Kids. The director came to the station on Friday and put out a call for volunteers. You’re already signed up to work after school every day this week. You need to visit their office on Monday to pick up your schedule and job assignments. This comes before anything else, including basketball.
“Third, we want you to start attending AA meetings.”
I find my voice with that one. Both of them could use AA before me. Neither of them can go to sleep at night without some sort of nightcap. “Oh, come on. I’m not an alcoholic.” I turn to my mother. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her eyes tell me this wasn’t her idea.
“Look, I’ll do the first two without complaint. I probably won’t be on the basketball team much longer anyway, so I’ll have free time on my hands. But AA meetings? Seriously?” I flail my arms in the air. “Can we just mark it up as bad luck? Every time I’ve ever been drunk, I’ve been caught.”
That’s a little white lie. It’s more like every other time I’ve been caught. Which is way more than all my other friends. Besides Farren once, I’m the only one who ever gets caught. Hence, the reason I’m usually the designated driver.
My mom sets her cup down. “Why won’t you be on the basketball team anymore? Did something happen?”
My phone dances around on the kitchen counter. Coach displays on my screen. I look up to my dad for permission.
“Might as well tell him you’re not coming. You can get started on the attic this morning, then we’ll head to church as a family at ten.”
I swipe to answer. “Hey, Coach.”
“Abner. You’re late.”
“I’m not coming.”
“Not funny, Abner. You’d better be on your way.”
“Seriously, Coach, I’m not coming.”
“You’d better have a good excuse, and anything less than you’re in the hospital halfway dead won’t work.”
“You know what? You want to know why I’m not there? Why don’t you ask your precious daughter why I’m not there. I quit.” I slam the phone down and hear the sound of shattering glass. Dammit. Another cracked screen.
My head hits the countertop, sending mind-shattering pain throughout. “Can I please get a break? For once, can something go my way?”
My mom’s tender fingers rub my neck. “We’ll hold off on the AA meetings for now. But if this happens again, you will be attending.”
For the next hour, the draft in the attic leaves my fingers blue, and the dirt from years and years of piled up memories turns my clothes a dusty brown.
Footsteps make their way upstairs. “Zain, breakfast is ready.” My mom appears at the top of the steps. “Oh, my. It’s cold up here. Don’t we have a portable heater somewhere?”
“Yeah, but it’s dead.” I point to the trash pile where the silver box taunts me with pretend heat.
“I’ll get another one this week. Come downstairs and get warmed up. You’ve done enough until this afternoon. It should warm up by then.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She pauses at the second step. “Did something happen between you and Farren?”
“We broke up yesterday.”
“I’m sorry. I knew there had to be a reason for you to drink again after the last time.”
“I’m not sorry. I’m glad to be rid of her.”
She turns around and lightly slaps my leg. “Zain!”
“Oh, come on. You can’t stand Farren.”
“True, but that gives you no right to be mean about it.”
“I’m sorry.” I hang my head. Mom always knows how to make me feel guilty.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I drank because I was celebrating that we’re finally over.”
She purses her lips then heads downstairs.
Chapter 10
After an hour’s walk from Sebastian’s with all my belongings in hand, I stop at the library and help myself to a free cup of hot cocoa. It quickly defrosts my hands and nose.
If I’m not able to convince Beth and Percy to take me back, I won’t have much time to find shelter, especially without a phone or car.
Finally warm, I use my library card to log onto the computer and print directions to a free health clinic and a homeless shelter. If one night with Sebastian went horrible, it would with my other friends. Though, I doubt their parents would allow it since my friends are all guys. I should’ve tried harder to make girl friends when I moved here, but Farren told everyone I’m a snob just because I didn’t want to go shopping with her. Dunce couldn’t figure out I have no money.
I stuff the papers in my trash bag and leave the library.
The cold makes my legs stiff, and I can hardly feel my toes. Just an hour more to go.
I drop my bags in the yard and sit on them to catch my breath. I’m burning up, which probably means I have hypothermia. It’s not freezing outside, but fifty degrees isn’t much better.
I look at Milo’s window with the bent shade from where he likes to stare at the neighbors.
Sure enough, the front door opens, and Milo runs out, followed quickly by Beth.
He leaps in
to my arms. “Hey, buddy.”
“I watched for you.”
“I saw.”
“Milo, honey,” Beth says. “Let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
I grab my bags and follow them.
“What did he say to you? I know you’re a good person, Beth. Let me stay.”
She shakes her head and opens the door. “He’s the man of the house.”
“You know me, Beth.”
Beth pats Milo’s back. “Run along, Milo.”
His little feet retreat down the hall.
Beth closes the door on me. I drop my bags and take a deep breath. It’s not like I’ve called the cops on Percy. I just want her to believe me and make him stop.
The door opens, and my breath hitches. She’s a nice woman. She’ll fight Percy to let me stay.
She offers me a handful of cash.
“We could’ve worked it out, but you had to pin your pregnancy on Percy. You and Sebastian need to take responsibility.”
I sigh, body deflating. “It’s not Sebastian’s child.”
Beth pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry I failed you. If I’d known you were sleeping around, I would’ve talked with you. We took you in, but we’re not raising your child, not after you accused Percy of the unthinkable.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know, but you need to leave before he gets home.”
“Listen to me. He abused me, and if I’m not here, he’s going to do it to Izzy.”
“If he did that, this would be the last place you’d want to be.” She looks over my shoulder. “They’re back.”
A silver car pulls into the driveway. Izzy hops out of the passenger seat and hugs me.
Percy pops the trunk and curses. “Brayleigh, we told you to leave.”
“I have nowhere to go.”
“Baby Daddy kick you out?”
Izzy folds her arms. “You’re really pregnant?”
I squeeze me eyes shut. I haven’t had to say it. “Yes.”
Unwrap My Heart Page 4
