from college like I plan to or if something will show up and ruin that plan. That’s one of the things I learned growing up in such an unstable home life: anything can happen in a heartbeat and dropkick the stability out of the ballpark, like when my dad left or when my mom decided to try heroin for the first time a year ago. She’s never been the same since, and the chaotic madness in our life increased.
Maybe Beck’s right. Perhaps it’s time to say enough is enough.
Then what? I walk out on my mom and hope she’ll clean up her act? After all, in the end, as crappy as she is, my mom is the only family I have left. And I’m the only person she has who cares enough to worry about her.
Chapter Eight
Beck
After spending the morning worrying about Willow, I was glad to be at her place again, even if it was just to tow her car home.
As I stood at her front door, I drummed my fingers against the sides of my legs, restless. The neighborhood made me uneasy; people were always selling drugs and sometimes their bodies, and a couple was screwing each other on the front porch of their apartment … At least, I think it was their apartment.
My nerves died, however, when I heard Willow talking to someone through the door, saying my name and sex a couple of times. I wasn’t exactly sure what was being discussed, but listening to Willow talk about me and sex had me grinning like a dumbass.
When she opened the door, I tried to hide my elation and failed epically. Honestly, I didn’t really give a shit. After all, Willow was talking about me and sex. Sex and me.
I couldn’t stop grinning idiotically as I thought about last night.
Then I noticed the disarray in the living room, and my good mood went poof as I was painfully reminded of another thing I have to do today: have a talk with her.
Ari is supposed to meet us on the highway in about an hour, which leaves me about thirty minutes to persuade her to move away from this fucking hellhole in the middle of town, and not just move away, but move in with me. Knowing Willow, she isn’t going to take what I have to say very well. She’ll be stubborn, try to refuse. I’ve had this conversation enough times with her to know. But I’m not ready to give up.
I have nightmares of the stuff that goes on here, stuff I’ve heard Willow whisper about when she’s really frightened. I know she holds back all the details … all the time.
“So, what happened to your mom this time that set her off?” I ask after Willow signals for me to come inside. I turn in a circle in the kitchen, glass crunching underneath my boots. Then I tip my head up and frown at the broken light above. “Someone broke your light.”
“I know.” She heaves a weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders sigh before crossing the kitchen and opening the fridge. “And I’m not sure what set her off. I think she’s just rebounding.”
I walk up behind her as she lowers her head and peers inside the empty fridge. “Did anyone bother you after I left? The house seemed empty.”
“A guy knocked on my room, but that’s it.”
“ That’s it? You say that like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s not. Not really. And at least he didn’t come inside my room.”
I take a deep breath as my frustration rises, reminding myself that I’m going to talk to her about this, get her out of here.
She extends her arm across the empty top shelf, slips her fingers behind it, and wiggles out a small box of pre-cooked bacon.
“Did you hide that back there?” I lean against the wall beside the fridge, observing her: the way strands of her long, brown hair hang in her big eyes; the arch of her back; the way her ass peeks out of her pajama bottoms … If I walked up behind her, it’d be the perfect position…
“Yeah, I did.” She steps back and closes the fridge, thrusting me out of my dirty thoughts. “I have to because my mom’s friends usually eat everything when they come over …” She trails off as she
Maybe Beck’s right. Perhaps it’s time to say enough is enough.
Then what? I walk out on my mom and hope she’ll clean up her act? After all, in the end, as crappy as she is, my mom is the only family I have left. And I’m the only person she has who cares enough to worry about her.
Chapter Eight
Beck
After spending the morning worrying about Willow, I was glad to be at her place again, even if it was just to tow her car home.
As I stood at her front door, I drummed my fingers against the sides of my legs, restless. The neighborhood made me uneasy; people were always selling drugs and sometimes their bodies, and a couple was screwing each other on the front porch of their apartment … At least, I think it was their apartment.
My nerves died, however, when I heard Willow talking to someone through the door, saying my name and sex a couple of times. I wasn’t exactly sure what was being discussed, but listening to Willow talk about me and sex had me grinning like a dumbass.
When she opened the door, I tried to hide my elation and failed epically. Honestly, I didn’t really give a shit. After all, Willow was talking about me and sex. Sex and me.
I couldn’t stop grinning idiotically as I thought about last night.
Then I noticed the disarray in the living room, and my good mood went poof as I was painfully reminded of another thing I have to do today: have a talk with her.
Ari is supposed to meet us on the highway in about an hour, which leaves me about thirty minutes to persuade her to move away from this fucking hellhole in the middle of town, and not just move away, but move in with me. Knowing Willow, she isn’t going to take what I have to say very well. She’ll be stubborn, try to refuse. I’ve had this conversation enough times with her to know. But I’m not ready to give up.
I have nightmares of the stuff that goes on here, stuff I’ve heard Willow whisper about when she’s really frightened. I know she holds back all the details … all the time.
“So, what happened to your mom this time that set her off?” I ask after Willow signals for me to come inside. I turn in a circle in the kitchen, glass crunching underneath my boots. Then I tip my head up and frown at the broken light above. “Someone broke your light.”
“I know.” She heaves a weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders sigh before crossing the kitchen and opening the fridge. “And I’m not sure what set her off. I think she’s just rebounding.”
I walk up behind her as she lowers her head and peers inside the empty fridge. “Did anyone bother you after I left? The house seemed empty.”
“A guy knocked on my room, but that’s it.”
“ That’s it? You say that like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s not. Not really. And at least he didn’t come inside my room.”
I take a deep breath as my frustration rises, reminding myself that I’m going to talk to her about this, get her out of here.
She extends her arm across the empty top shelf, slips her fingers behind it, and wiggles out a small box of pre-cooked bacon.
“Did you hide that back there?” I lean against the wall beside the fridge, observing her: the way strands of her long, brown hair hang in her big eyes; the arch of her back; the way her ass peeks out of her pajama bottoms … If I walked up behind her, it’d be the perfect position…
“Yeah, I did.” She steps back and closes the fridge, thrusting me out of my dirty thoughts. “I have to because my mom’s friends usually eat everything when they come over …” She trails off as she
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