by Rachel Jonas
“Okay,” I finally respond. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Ricky’s brow draws together as he takes that in. “Thanks for letting you know? That’s all you have to say, B? Thanks for letting you know?”
“What more do you want from me?” I snap.
“I want you to stop being selfish!” Those words hit me square in the chest, like a searing hot knife, breaking skin.
“… Selfish?” I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. “Name one thing in my life that’s completely about me?”
When his expression softens, I imagine he regrets his choice of words, but they’re out there. No taking them back.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. You do a lot for Scar. I only meant that—”
“This isn’t your business,” I remind him. “Nothing concerning me, or my family is your business. You’ve done enough already, haven’t you?”
My words seem to have struck him, like how his hit me.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
A group of girls cackle as they walk past and I hold my tongue until no one’s around to hear.
“It means you were the one who got Hunter into all this. You were the one who linked him up with your Uncle Paul, got him started on this path.”
I’m fighting tears, but I’m not so sure I’ll win.
“That’s what you think?” Ricky snaps.
“All I know is, Hunter used to be good,” I remind him. “Once upon a time, he was responsible, and then he got caught up with you and—”
“That’s what you think happened?” he interrupts again. “First of all, I’ve known your brother since we were little, Blue. So, your logic doesn’t even add up. I didn’t just come into the picture the day before Hunter started getting into shit.”
There’s a familiar pain in my chest and I know it well. It’s the ache of abandonment. The sting of loneliness.
“Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no angel,” he continues, “but I’ve only ever looked out for Hunter. He’s as much a brother to me as Shane.”
Guilt. It slams face-first into me, because I know what he’s saying is true.
At the first sign of water pooling in my eyes, I turn to walk away, but halt. In part because of the sudden, light hold Ricky now has on my wrist. But I’m also frozen in place because West is back, and his eyes are laser-focused right where Ricky’s got a hold on me.
Still sporting the all-black uniform with his number embossed in gold, right in the center of his chest, he doesn’t move. My guess is that he’s heading back toward the field where some of his team still lingers. But now, the only thing he’s aware of is me.
Something’s clearly sparked anger within him and I admittedly don’t understand. Is it because he wants to stamp out any sign of happiness in my life? And, in his mind, Ricky is a potential source of happiness for me? Something he needs to kill before I get too high and mighty, thinking I can have one single thing in this world without him screwing it up?
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
I’m lost in thought until Ricky’s hand slips down from my wrist, linking his fingers with mine. Cool gray eyes lock me in place, and I push aside thoughts of the brute seething behind me.
“I’m not saying Hunter was never good. All I’m saying is, I’m not the one who turned him bad,” Ricky declares. “Might want to look a little closer to home if you need someone to blame.”
I’m not quite sure what that means, but neither my pride nor my pain will let me ask. There’s a stretch of silence between us and when his gaze flickers over my shoulder, I know exactly who he’s staring at.
Frustration sets in and I snatch my hand from his, using it to wipe the tear that’s escaped.
“I need to go check on Scar and Shane. Anything else?” I ask, forcing my tone to go cold.
He’s quiet, like there’s something more he wants to say. “Nah, just tell Shane I won’t be home when he gets there. I have things to take care of.”
I nod but don’t say a word.
More than aware of both sets of eyes locked on me, I refuse to look at either. Ricky’s bike thunders when he climbs back on and revs it. Then, he leaves just as quickly as he swept in. I’ve already made up my mind to call and apologize later, because I know he catches the bulk of my bitchiness, but my emotions have to settle first. Even knowing he always means well, I’m honestly starting to resent him coming around. Simply because he never seems to bring any good news.
Ever.
@QweenPandora: What a game! As expected, our boys are off to a great start this season. With any luck, we’re on our way to claiming yet another state championship. If you missed tonight’s performance, don’t make that mistake twice. See you next Friday, Peeps!
—P
Chapter 18
BLUE
I haven’t seen Scar this happy in weeks. Yeah, she loved being at the game, but it’s also clear that we needed this time together. She misses me, hates that I’m away from home so much, but I never doubt that she understands why. It doesn’t go over her head that I’d be around more if I could.
First thing in the morning, I’ll be waiting tables at the diner, but tonight is all about her.
A phone call from Uncle Dusty takes us on a slight detour. It only takes him saying he’s made us dinner to bring home and we eagerly deviate from our path. Despite likely being overwhelmed with customers in my absence, he still made time to take care of us.
Like always.
I hadn’t made either Scar nor myself much of a lunch, and didn’t have money for concessions at the game, so it goes without saying that we’re starving by the time we reach our side of town.
We drop off Shane and Jules, then I make the quick drive home, going as fast as I’m legally permitted. The second Scar and I burst through the back door, laughing loud enough to wake the dead, we race for the kitchen sink.
“Respect your elders,” I yell, yanking her backward by her shirt.
A shriek leaves her mouth and she playfully shoves me aside. It’s a fight to the death, both wrestling to be the first to wash our hands and dig into whatever Uncle Dusty sent this time.
One solid hip bump knocks Scar into the cabinet and I’m in the lead. By the time she finally catches her breath from laughing, I’m done rinsing and grabbing two forks from the drawer.
“You cheated!” she yells. “No one stands a chance against those hips.”
“Hey! Watch it,” I warn her, laughing at the well-timed insult.
She ignores me, opting to forego an apology, and drops down in the seat across from me.
“Ah, burgers,” she sighs after flipping open the lid of her to-go container. A second before digging in, she dramatically inhales the aroma.
“I know you thanked him when we stopped into the diner, but don’t forget to shoot Dusty a text later, too,” I remind her.
“Always do.”
The only thing that keeps me from wolfing down my food is that I’m now caught up watching my sister. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful, she’s also the best kid I know—good grades, responsible. I probably shouldn’t take credit for that, but I can’t help feeling like I kind of had a hand in her being so awesome. Of all the things I’ve ever done, helping take care of her is the most meaningful.
“I was so hungry my stomach was two seconds from eating itself,” she says with her mouth full. “Only thing missing is ketchup.”
She hops out of her seat and I watch as she bounds over to the fridge. From down the hall, the floorboards creak after Mike’s door slams, and I know he’s coming this way.
Scar doesn’t say a word, but she rolls her eyes in anticipation of good ol’ dad joining us in the kitchen.
“How come no one told me it was dinnertime?” His speech is slurred, which doesn’t come as a surprise.
“Because there’s no dinner for you,” I answer.
Scar takes her seat again and our gazes lock across the table.
“Let me have a fry,” Mike grumbles, reaching toward Scar’s food without asking.
“Touch anything on that plate and you won’t live to taste it.” My warning earns me a hard glare from my father.
A haughty laugh leaves him, and he folds both arms over his CPPD t-shirt—a throwback to when he was still on the force. You know, when he was still a respected citizen of this town.
“You think you’re real hot shit, don’t you?” he asks. “Walking around here acting like you’re better than everyone else, when the truth is—”
“Please,” I begged. “Please tell me what you think you know about me. Seeing as how you’ve never in your life taken any interest in any one of your kids, Mike.”
His glassy stare levels on me again and I sense a challenge in his eyes. Another humorless laugh leaves his mouth and I’m tense all over, ready for whatever insult he’s prepared to hurl at me next.
“Your just like your mother. You know that?”
This is his favorite insult, and the way those words leave his mouth, there’s no mistaking he believes them to be the most hurtful thing he could possibly say to me. Which speaks volumes about how he feels about her. For now, anyway. Were she to come home today, he’d welcome her with open arms. No questions asked.
“Well, maybe it’s because Mom and I have one thing in common,” I reply, staring him straight in the eyes. “We both hate your sorry ass.”
The muscle in his jaw hardens as my words cut deeper than I realize they will. And to push me to my limit, he swipes his hand across the table, knocking both mine and Scar’s dinner to the kitchen floor.
“There!” he chuffs with a big, satisfied grin. “Now you two bitches can eat it off the floor like the dogs you are.”
My blood is boiling. I’ve had my share of bullying already. The difference is, at school I can’t do anything about West Golden. But here, on the southside, under this roof, I can do whatever the hell I want.
“Blue, no!”
Scar’s voice sounds so faint in my ears when I lunge out of my seat. Mike tries to take off when he realizes I’m coming for him, but I’m too quick and he’s too drunk.
“Let her go!” Scar screams next, when Mike reaches behind his head and grabs me by my neck. I’m clinging to him like glue, though, while he spins wildly, trying to fling me off him. But I won’t let go. Especially now that I have a tight grip around his throat with my forearm.
I don’t know what my plan is. To choke him out, maybe? To drag an apology out of him for being the reason my sister will go to bed without a meal? I’m not sure, but I do know I want him to suffer like we suffer every day of our lives, simply because we were cursed to be born his children.
“I’ll kill you,” he chokes out with saliva gurgling in his mouth. He’s clawing at my arm now, but even with the deep scratch marks he leaves, I’m nowhere close to giving up.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” I roar. “And give me your wallet, so I can buy her something else to eat and be the parent you never were.”
My demand only seems to anger him more. Pissed off and gasping for air, he rears back with all his might, slamming me hard against the wall.
“Stop it!” Scar screams. She’s hysterical now and I can only pray Ms. Levinson doesn’t hear her.
“The hell are you yelling at me for?” Mike forces from his mouth. “Crazy bitch attacked me!”
For once, I didn’t totally disagree with him. I am a crazy bitch, and he’s the one who made me this way.
I tighten my grip and my action draws an even stronger reaction from him. One that doesn’t just leave me breathless, but sends a sharp pain shooting through my shoulder. With every ounce of strength I haven’t choked out of him, Mike charges backwards toward the wall, ramming me right into the sharp corner.
As badly as I want to take him down, I’m the one who gives in.
My arm loosens from around his neck and with a loud thud, I’m on the ground. He staggers away, pawing at his throat like he’s on the brink of death, finally teetering clumsily into a chair.
“You’ve lost your damn mind!” he croaks, sounding hoarse. Knowing I managed to hurt him is some small consolation for the pain I feel spreading through my back and shoulder. If it hurts this bad now, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like by morning.
“Are you okay?” Tears are streaming down Scar’s face when she asks me this question, which makes guilt spike in my stomach.
She needs reassurance, so I nod, even though the last thing I want to do at the moment is move.
A pink ponytail whips through the air when she casts a sharp glare toward Mike.
“What is wrong with you?” she screams, calling the tears to come faster. I lift a hand to push them away, but it doesn’t matter, because they’re falling in sheets now.
Mike volleys a look between the two of us, working his jaw in anger, and then stands. He casts a gaze around the kitchen as he kicks over his seat as one last pathetic show of dominance.
“Pull yourself together and get this mess cleaned up.”
He leaves us with those words, and I feel anger I didn’t even know I had in me, bubbling up from my gut, urging me to launch another attack on him. Pain and all. The only thing that stops me from leaping onto him again is Scar. She’s a sobbing mess and it’s on me to fix it.
Mike has a way of foiling my attempts at creating the illusion that we have a normal life here. Tonight is a shining example of that.
When Scar takes her phone from her pocket, I’m confused at first, but see that the first two numbers she dials are nine and one.
“Scar, no!” That plea leaves my mouth much harsher than I mean for it to, but it was one-hundred-percent necessary.
“He can’t just do these things,” she belts out from some broken place within her. It’s someplace hidden, so deep down I fear it’s too deep for me to mend it.
Her statement isn’t wrong, but there are things she doesn’t understand. As calmly as I can, I place a hand on her phone and lower it.
“Scar, if you involve the police, they won’t just arrest Mike and go on their way,” I explain. “They’ll take him away, then take you away, and … that can’t happen.”
As much as I like to think she needs me, I’m well-aware that this works both ways. I need my sister. She keeps me sane, gives me something to fight for, something to live for.
There’s a short pause that leaves me worried. Sure, Scar might not call the cops on Mike today, but what if she says the wrong thing to the wrong person at school and—
“Promise me, Scar,” I plead as it plays out in my head. “Promise me you’ll keep anything that happens here between us.”
She glances down when I knock her phone aside and squeeze both her hands in mine. I can’t say for sure she understands completely how these things work, but I do believe she can see the desperation in my eyes. It’s proven when some of the blind emotion clears from her expression and she gives a solid nod in response.
I know that look. Because I’d given it several times myself growing up. It’s the look of a kid who’s seen too much.
“I promise,” she finally concedes, and I pull her into a tight embrace.
Although this evening has been nothing like either of us expected, I kept my word. I said tonight would be all about her and it is. Everything I do—even the things that make me look insane—are because of one truth I will never outrun.
Out of all the things I’ve ever loved, Scarlett is the only thing I have left.
Chapter 19
WEST
Scratch marks down one arm.
A huge bruise o
n her shoulder.
What the hell is going on with this girl?
She notices me staring and adjusts the strap of her bathing suit. Sure, like that’ll hide it.
Hard fail.
I’m so distracted by the deep, purple mark she’s sporting, I hardly hear Mrs. C.’s short lecture about pool safety and being mindful of our surroundings. Even when she dismisses us to jump into the pool, I’m one of the last ones to move.
The only one more hesitant than me is Southside. Likely because of last week’s incident that resulted in her nearly drowning.
“Up for this?” Mrs. C. asks, approaching me from behind. I glance at her and then follow her gaze back to Southside. “She’s gonna need a lot of work, but you’re probably the strongest swimmer I have.”
I wipe the concern from my expression and nod. “It won’t be a problem.”
Mrs. C. offers a tight grin. “Good. Today’s your first day on the job.”
She turns and leaves me to it, and I’m aware of what a huge opportunity this is to further get under Southside’s skin, but for some reason, I’m not feeling it today. Maybe it’s the bruises and cuts she’s wishing desperately to hide. Whatever the case, I can’t shake the notion that she’s probably had enough hell over the weekend.
As I approach, she casts a weary gaze toward me. One that spurs a feeling I wasn’t quite expecting.
Guilt.
There’s real fear and mistrust in her eyes and I did everything in my power to put it there.
“Not today, West,” she groans. “I know what Mrs. C. said, but I’m just going to walk the pool for the hour, so you’re relieved of your duties.”
My eyes are on her as she descends the steps, wincing as the cold touches new parts of her skin. As a closeted admirer of her figure, I notice when the chill reaches her tits, hardening her nipples beneath her bathing suit.
Focus, asshole.
“Not my call,” I answer, hiding all traces of sympathy and lust from my tone. “I’m not failing one of the easiest classes I have because you don’t feel like putting forth the effort.”
