By the time I got home, my mood had gone from bad to worse. After dropping Piper off, I just drove. I needed to listen to some music, clear my head and try to get rid of this ache in my chest.
I wanted to blame Tate. Turn a blind eye like I always did when she was hurting.
But I couldn’t. Not this time.
There wasn’t going to be any running from the truth. No diving into a party or a girl to distract myself.
The truth was…I wish I could go back to that day in the park. Back to the fish pond when I’d first decided that she needed to hurt. I would’ve done it differently.
Instead of pushing her away, I would’ve buried my face in her hair and let her bring me back from wherever I’d gone. She wouldn’t have had to say or do anything. Just fill my world.
But my anger ran deeper than my love for her that day, and right now, I couldn’t face what I’d done. I couldn’t face that she hated me, that my mother barely wanted anything to do with me, and that my father spent every Saturday reminding me of what a loser I was.
Fuck it. Fuck them all.
I walked into my house, slammed the door and threw my keys across the room. The place was as quiet as a church, except for Madman’s paws scurrying across the floor.
He started clawing at my jeans and whimpering for attention.
“Not now, buddy,” I snipped and walked into the kitchen. Madman couldn’t calm me down, and I wanted to hit something. As I yanked open the refrigerator, I noticed that my mother had left a note stuck to the door.
Off for the night. Order a pizza. Love you!
And I slammed the door closed again. Always fucking gone.
I gripped both sides of the refrigerator and pressed my head into the stainless steel. It didn’t matter, I told myself. Everything was okay. I had shitty parents, but who didn’t? I’d pushed Tate away, but there were other girls out there. I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do with my life, but I was only eighteen—or almost eighteen.
Everything. Was. Fine.
I gripped the sides harder, willing myself to believe the lie.
And then I saw myself, alone in a kitchen, and holding a refrigerator. Telling myself that my life was good.
Fuck.
I started pounding the steel doors. Every muscle in my body felt choked as I slammed my palm against the appliance again and again. Madman yelped and scurried away.
All the shit my mom had sitting up on top turned over or shattered to the ground, and I just kept going. Using both hands to slam it time and again against the wall.
Nothing hurt if I knew I had you.
She was fucking with my head. Why couldn’t I just forget her?
I stopped, my shoulders slumped, forcing air in and out of my lungs, but it was never enough. I turned around to head up the stairs. If my mom was gone for the night, then there was no harm in bringing out the Jack. Since she was an alcoholic, I kept that shit hidden. But tonight I needed a way out. I couldn’t stomach the hurt. I couldn’t deal, and I needed to be numb.
On my way up the stairs, I noticed that the front door was open.
Shit.
It must not have latched when I’d slammed it before. And Madman got out, no doubt.
I kicked the door shut. Hard.
Fucking awesome. Even the dog had left.
Once in my room, I went to the stash Madoc and I skimmed from his father and pulled out a bottle.
Flinging off my hoodie and shirt, I kicked off my boots and unscrewed the bottle, swallowing massive gulps to drown out her voice in my head.
But walking over to my window, I instantly stilled.
There she was.
Dancing.
Closing her eyes and jumping around.
An image of her in a purple nightgown came to mind, but I couldn’t place it.
She looked ridiculous and couldn’t dance any better than me. I almost laughed when she threw the devil ears up in the air and screamed along to the music. My chest swelled with the urge to hold her.
And right then and there, I wanted her back.
But what the hell was I going to say to her? I couldn’t tell her everything.
Not everything.