I spun on my heels.
“Why?” I said, attempting to mimic his coldness.
“Because I have a right to know what goes on under my roof.”
“We were outside,” I snipped back.
Cameron fixed his stare, waiting for an answer.
“We talked about Bill,” I finally conceded.
“Anything else?” he probed
“Nope. What else is there?” I fumed. That was a lie, but I figured that my rage would hide any
traces of it.
Cameron didn’t answer and took a bite of his food as he stared me down.
The fact that he was still angry with me, that he had taken his anger out on his little brother
suddenly made me furious. My blood boiled, and my breath felt like it was going to spew fire. I
wasn’t holding anything back this time.
“Cameron Hillard, I know that you’re still upset with me because of last night, but you have
no right to take it out on Rocco. Rocco worked really hard today, and he was excited to show you
what he did. You just blew him off like he’s one of your foot soldiers. He’s your brother,” I
almost spelled out for him. “Your brother is a really great kid, who deserves better than to be
ordered around like a maid. And Frances and I didn’t talk about much, but if I wanted to talk
to her some more, I would. This might be your house, but you don’t control me or what I do. I
will talk to whoever I want, whenever I want.”
By the end of my speech, I was seething and panting.
Cameron was frozen at the table, his eyes the size of a shot glass. I turned around and calmly
walked upstairs. I gently closed the door behind me and sniffed a bit, but did not cry.
Downstairs, I heard Cameron’s chair fiercely pull out and the clinging of a bowl getting
pitched into the sink. I was afraid that he was going to come running after me and that I would
have to think of a new speech.
He never came. After a few stomped footsteps, the house was dead quiet once again.
The release of fury must have been therapeutic, because I slept quite well that night. I was
awoken only once by the usual sound of scratching and whining at my bedroom door. I drowsily got
up and let Meatball in for his bedtime.
I had never grown up with a dog—it was definitely strange to have Meatball sleep next to me at
first. But I was surprised by how quickly I got accustomed to the brute being there. It was
appeasing, even if, deep down, I knew that whatever the reason he slept in the same bed, it was
not out of any sense of duty to me.
Chapter Fourteen:
The Proper Kind of Diversion
In the morning, a light knock at my door brought Rocco into my room. He lounged himself on my
bed while I got dressed in the washroom.
“I heard you and Cameron arguing last night,” he told me.
“As far as I know, it takes at least two people to have an argument. It was more like I talked
loudly to myself while Cameron watched,” I yelled back through the door.
“Yeah, that’s usually how it goes with Cameron. It takes a lot for him to lose his cool, which
is really annoying when all you want is to just have it out. Sometimes I wish he would just be
like everyone else and fight back instead of acting like such an adult.”
I pasted a smile on my face and walked out of the room with a towel coiled on my head.
Rocco was lying on his side watching while I towel-dabbed my hair. “I heard all of the stuff
you said about me to Cameron … It was really nice of you,” he said, squinting. “But you
should know that you’re really not my type.”
This made me smile, genuinely. “I didn’t think that fifteen-year-olds could even have a type.
Don’t you just go for anything with breasts?”
“Maybe that’s why you’re not my type,” he said. “Besides, I’m much more mature than most
fifteen-year-olds.”
“Yes, I forgot that only real men throw tantrums in their rooms when they don’t get their way.
”
He shrugged. “Well, thanks for sticking up for me. I’ve never heard any one talk to my brother
like that.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said. “Not that it did either of us any good. I didn’t get to fight
it out, and you didn’t get what you wanted.”
“Actually, after you left last night, Cameron came into my room,” Rocco told me with his big
grin. Something was up—he was getting eager and fidgety. I waited patiently, excited with his
excitement. “Our plan worked,” he finally spilled. “Cameron said that I could go with him
next time. That I could be more than just a lookout.”
I didn’t know what being more than a lookout meant but I was glad to see Rocco so happy again.
“When do you leave?”
Rocco scowled at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I forgot to ask.”
Contently shrugging his shoulders, he slumped around on the bed and looked outside.