by Jenna Scott
Part of me is still battling PTSD over the Mr. Harris stuff I went through. I feel like if I try to say anything, people won’t believe me. Just like last time. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of one more predator roaming around out there. I know that coming forward could help other girls down the road.
But a few weeks pass, and Luke is nowhere to be seen. Laurens assigns the other TAship to Abby, the girl with the blue hair who I helped with her graphic novel paper. When I stay after class and ask Professor Laurens about Luke, he looks surprised.
“I thought you knew. Luke had to go home for a family emergency and he’s since withdrawn from school. I assumed he’s caring for an ill relative, though I really shouldn’t speculate.”
My jaw drops. “I didn’t know. Wow. That’s…got to be a lot to handle.”
Luke running away with his tail between his legs hits me like a kick in the stomach. I don’t know whether to celebrate or worry that he’ll end up doing the same thing to some other girl no matter which school he ends up going to. I finally break down and write up an anonymous but detailed account of the assault, mailing a copy of it to the school’s Department of Public Safety. At the very least, this will be on Luke’s record. It’ll be DPS’s decision whether to take things any further.
Still, the whole thing weighs on me. There’s no handbook for how to navigate sexual assault. No easy answers for what the next steps are, or how to even begin feeling better about it. I’m just taking it one day at a time. I’ll probably make an appointment to see a counselor, too.
For now, I’m at Hunter’s place more often than not. It’s a weeknight, and I’m sitting on the couch juggling my TA work and a research paper for Psych while he plays a video game on his Switch.
“Don’t you need to study, too?” I ask. “I’m surprised you’re passing any of your classes with all the time you spend on that thing.”
He looks over at me with his eyes lit up, mouth curved in a devious grin.
“I have an idea.”
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “Oh really? Why am I already suspicious?”
“Remember when you were tutoring me for finals last year and you said strip-studying might work if it we kept it up in the long term?”
Laughing, I say, “Okay, and…”
“And there’s plenty of time left in the semester.” He drags a hand along my arm. “So I was thinking…”
“I’m in my underwear and a T-shirt,” I point out. “I’d lose in two rounds.”
“We can put more clothes on first,” he offers, and damn, it’s cute how eager he’s sounding.
There’s also no way I’ll lose. I lean back on the couch and pretend to consider it. “Let’s recap the rules: if one of us gets the question right, they get to remove an item of clothing from the other. Hands off until one of us is fully naked. The victor then decides what to do with the loser.”
With a smug grin, Hunter agrees.
I’m in his bedroom getting more clothes on when I hear the doorbell ring. “Did you order food?” I ask, popping my head into the hallway.
“No.” He goes to the door.
I keep an eye on him as I zip up my jeans, but as soon as he looks through the peephole, the atmosphere in the apartment instantly goes from warm to freezing.
“Hunter? What is it?”
Instead of answering me, he opens the door, and a woman walks inside. My stomach drops.
His mom is instantly recognizable. I’ve seen her photo before, of course, but Hunter’s more recent description of her was dead-on.
Her blue eyes are shifty, her cheeks hollow, her skin looking pale and unhealthy—she’s a shell of the woman in the photo, but it’s definitely her. She’s either drunk or high, or both. Her clothes look fragile in a way I’m all too familiar with. They’ve been worn so often they’re starting to tear, swimming on her too-thin frame.
“You’re back,” Hunter says softly.
“I told you I would,” she says, slurring and a little shaky on her feet.
My heart breaks for him, for the fact that he has to see the mother who abandoned him looking like this. I know all too well how helpless and awful it feels to come home to a parent in a similarly fucked-up state.
I’m halfway down the hall when Hunter asks her, “What do you want?”
His mom’s strung-out gaze falls on me, and rather than answer him, she says, “She’s here? The girlfriend you had to leave me in such a hurry for?”
“Um, hi,” I say awkwardly, not sure whether to play the diplomat and formally introduce myself or go back into the bedroom and hide.
Hunter puts his arm around me and pulls me close, and I try to smile.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he says to his mom. “I know you need something.”
She looks between the two of us, then puts on her most pitiful expression. “I just—I ran out of money, and I need some help. A temporary loan. I can’t pay my rent, and the landlord said—”
“No.” Hunter cuts her off before she can start in on a string of explanations. It’s obvious what she’s been spending all her money on, and obvious that it’s hurting him to see her looking like this. I can feel his body shaking next to mine, and I wrap my arm around him to offer support. “I don’t have money for you, and I never will. You are the parent, and you need to figure out how to take care of yourself.”
“But Hunter—”
“You need to leave, Mom. You’re not welcome here until you’re clean.”
“What the fuck?” Any of the fake victimhood still left on his mother’s face falls away to reveal something ugly and bitter. “I’m the whole reason you have all that money in the first place! How do you get off being so ungrateful—”
“Ungrateful for what? You walking out on me? Choosing to get high over me?” Hunter says, getting louder. “At least Dad put a roof over my head, food in my mouth.”
“Thomas isn’t even your real dad!” Hunter’s mom shoots back.
Hunter goes stiff beside me, and I can only imagine the shock on his face as his mom sneers at both of us.
“Oh, yeah,” she goes on, “I only told him he was your father so he’d take care of us. You know what that means? It means that nice little life you’ve got is all a lie. So you owe that life to me, for making him think he was the one who got me pregnant.”
The apartment goes silent.
That stillness lasts for about three seconds, and after that, it’s like a silent bomb goes off inside Hunter. His arm falls away from me, and he walks out of the apartment, not even bothering to take any keys with him as he disappears out the door. That cold calm scares me much more than his rage, and I try to run after him. But there’s no catching up, and by the time I get to the end of the hall, he’s already gone.
And his mom is still here.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Camilla
I should be angry and upset that Hunter left me alone with this woman—and I am. But my emotions aren’t directed at him. All I can think about are the parallels between Hunter’s mom and mine, the way both of them are addicts who have refused time and time again to get the help they need in order to be healthy, functional, decent parents. It’s not that I don’t understand that addiction is a disease. I do. But when you’re responsible for a child, you have to find a way to break through your own shit and step up to the plate. And neither of them have ever made the effort.
I turn toward the sallow-eyed woman, still standing here strung out inside an apartment she has no right to be in. Had she not just appeared on Hunter’s doorstep to guilt trip him for money and drop that horrible bomb about his dad, Hunter wouldn’t have just walked out. I’m sure he’s feeling utterly destroyed inside.
“Were you even telling him the truth just now? Or were you trying to break him so he’d give you what you want?”
She glares at me, her mouth twisting into an ugly expression. “Don’t talk to me like you’re so above it all. Aren’t you doing the exact same thing?”
My mouth thins into a hard line. “I’d never do that to him. Or anyone.”
“Of course not. I’m sure you’re little miss innocent.”
Here’s what’s unfortunate for Hunter’s mother: I’m used to dealing with an intoxicated, shit-talking parent. And because she’s not my mother, any restraint I might have is nowhere to be found. She came here for the sole purpose of extorting Hunter, and when he refused, she resorted to tearing up the foundations of his entire life.
With no thought for anyone but herself, she hurt the person I love the most in the world, and there is no stopping me from unleashing my temper on her in a way I could never do with Mom.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say coldly. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know your own son.”
She scoffs. “And you think you do?”
“Yes. I do.” I take one step closer to her. “Unlike you, I know how beautiful he is.”
She gives me a patronizing look, and I intensely dislike how much she still reminds me of Hunter. “Oh, he’s a looker for sure—”
“I wasn’t talking about how he looks,” I cut her off. “But sure, he’s good-looking. The thing is, he’s so much more than that.”
I step closer and narrow my eyes. “Unlike you, I do know the real Hunter. And I know that while he may be guarded and quick-tempered, if you’re patient enough with him and he lets you in…he’s kind, and protective, and considerate. I know he loves his little brother more than anything in the world, and that he’s fun to be with. That he’s still figuring out who he is and what he wants, but that no matter what he chooses, he’s going to succeed. Because he throws himself into everything he cares about one hundred percent. He is a beautiful person, inside and out. I pity the fact that you don’t know it. But he is who he is in spite of you. Not because of you.”
Every word I just said was true, but I still can’t believe all of that came rushing out of me. Hunter’s mother doesn’t look impressed, though. She looks pissed.
“You know nothing about my relationship with my son—”
Oh, but I do.
“I know you walked out on him thirteen years ago and haven’t looked back since. And that from that moment forward, from the time he was five years old, he’s been waiting for you, holding on to some memory of this one time you took him swimming in the ocean, hoping against hope that he’d hear from you again—and that his hope died a little more every year that passed.”
My words make her flinch, and she steps back. But I don’t stop.
“But you never came back until now, did you?” I say. “That’s on you.”
“I couldn’t take care of him,” she says, her voice cracking. “I knew that. I knew he’d be better off with Thom, that I couldn’t get it together.”
I pity her, for all that she’s been through and all that she’s lost. But I don’t feel sorry about the consequences she’s facing now. She’s done it to herself.
“I’m glad you had him,” I say. “And I have to thank you for that. But until you can get better, you need to stay away.”
She twitches. “You can’t tell me what to do. You don’t even know me.”
“I know what kind of person you are.” My voice is getting louder as my anger toward my own mother starts to surface. “You tell yourself you love your son—and while you might love him, you love something else more. You never chose him over your addiction, and you’re not choosing him now. And the saddest thing about all of this is that he’s the most beautiful man in the world, and you gave up the chance to know him. I’m going to walk you out now.”
To my surprise, she lets me herd her out the door and down in the elevator, though she doesn’t speak a word to me until we’re out on the sidewalk.
“Once Thomas finds out he’s not Hunter’s real father, the money will dry up,” she tells me in a mocking tone. “We’ll see if you stick by him then.”
“I don’t care about the money,” I say.
“That’s because you’re still young. But you’ll learn to,” she says. “And I’m not going anywhere until Hunter comes back. I just need a few hundred to get by. I’ll wait out here for him.”
She sits on the edge of a planter that has palm trees and jasmine growing in it, then starts digging through her purse until she pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
My hair stands on end, my patience already way past its limit. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops.”
She tilts up her chin, defiant. “I’m his mother.”
“You’re also visibly under the influence. This is a domestic disturbance. You really want that on your record?”
Her eye twitches as she stares at me. “I came here for money, and I’m not leaving without it.”
She’s so much like my own mother it hurts. But while I may not have a couple hundred dollar to throw around, I actually do have a wad of cash in my wallet. I’d been saving up for my bookstore spree tomorrow, but if it’s enough to get her out of here, it’ll be money well spent.
“If that’s what you want, fine.” I dig out the wallet and hand over everything I have. “Here. You got what you wanted. Now leave.”
She snorts as she finishes counting the bills—just over a hundred dollars. “I guess this will have to do.” After she puts the money away, she smirks. “For now.”
I’m clenching my fists so hard, my nails stab the palms of my hands. “I honestly hope you can get the help you need. For your sake and for his. Otherwise, don’t bother coming back. You’re not welcome here.”
Those are the last words I say to her before I turn on my heel and go back inside.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hunter
Rage, devastation, and confusion are one hell of a cocktail. My brain is too overwhelmed to fully process the words that came out of the living trash that is my mom, leaving instinct in charge of my body.
Mind completely blown by Mom’s horrible revelation, I didn’t even think. I just fled the scene. Luckily, my keys were in the pocket of my jeans, and I all but ran down the fire stairs to the underground parking garage, slamming into the driver’s seat of my BMW and squealing tires on my way to the nearest bar I can find.
I’ve never had a problem using my fake ID, and alcohol is the quickest way to help me forget my problems. I still can’t believe that I’m not Harrison’s brother. I don’t give a shit about my dad, not really, but I feel like my chest is caving in when I think about the fact that the most precious person in my family isn’t even really family. That the little guy could be taken away from me at any second once the truth comes to light.
And Milla. Fuck. I left her there alone with that broken drug addict who calls herself my mom. I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve taken her with me, but I saw the look she gave me, the shock and pity, and I couldn’t stand it for another second.
Frustrated and angry, I slam my fists against the steering wheel, not even caring that I’m in motion and almost swerve into the opposite lane. Pretty sure she cried for me to come back, but my piece of shit mother was right there, savoring the massive destruction she’d caused with her words.
Thomas isn’t even your real dad.
I find a bar with a neon sign and blacked-out windows and park the car in their lot. There’s soft rain starting to fall, and I welcome the cold drops on my raging-hot skin. No one bothers to card me on the way in. Just one more advantage of being so tall, or maybe everyone can see I’d punch anyone who stood in the way of me getting shitfaced so I can at least forget about everything I’d heard for the next few hours.
Shit, maybe I can get so drunk I’ll forget what happened the entire day. No visit from Mom, no trash talk spilling out of her lips. I could go back to pretending everything was fine, that my messed-up life was unchanged in its messiness and not a hundred more degrees of fucked up.
But no matter how many shots I slam back, I can’t forget that Dad isn’t actually my dad. I guess it would’ve been one thing
if he’d bothered to raise me—but we were never close. He was always an absentee workaholic asshole who tried to teach me that money solves everything. The man I’d grown up calling Dad had never behaved like a father to me after Mom left.
He sheltered me, put me through school, I’ll give him that, but there was no true warmth or connection between us. Not even when I needed it most. He’s a piece of shit, Mom’s a piece of shit, and whoever got her pregnant with me is probably a piece of shit too.
And let’s be honest, so am I. We’re all trash.
Fuck, who is my real dad? Does my mom even know? Does it even matter?
The horrible truth is, I’m nothing and nobody without money to fall back on. Money that I only have because of Dad—fuck, why am I still calling him that? Thomas. That’s who he is now.
A bitter laugh spills out of me. People look over, but I don’t care. I just keep drinking, thinking about how Mom is going to use this truthbomb to extort me. Which I can’t let her do, because I’d rather tell Dad—Thomas—the truth than be blackmailed into providing her with drug money for the rest of her life.
Which also means, without my trust fund keeping me afloat, I’ll need a scholarship to stay at Stanford. But Milla had had so much trouble getting a scholarship, what chance do I have? I’m good at swimming, true, but that’s about it. There are no guarantees for me.
So that’s it. I’ll have to drop out, maybe find a low-cost community college and take out student loans. Mill and I won’t be together anymore. I’ll be a burden on her, and she has it hard enough already. She won’t be able to look out for herself and me.
A woman comes to sit beside me and says hello, but when I ignore her in favor of another shot, she quickly gives up. That could’ve been Milla at my side instead, had I not been a coward and walked out. She could be here right now, comforting me.
Milla.
I miss her already. And as much as I want her to be here, more than anything, I also don’t want her to see me like this. My eyes are blurring, and my head’s drooping. Between blinks, I swear I hear Milla’s voice, which only proves how completely fucked up I am. Maybe I should just drive right into a tree on the way home.
