Page 49 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“What’s this about taking my baby away for Christmas?” Mom and Dad have the same phone etiquette.

“Not all day.” I pick at the T on my cap. “Just for the morning.”

“And you’re going to spend the day with your father and I, right?” Her accusatory tone shrinks me to five years old, and that’s just her mom power over the phone.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit. The sound of the break door opening turns my head toward the entrance. “I’m not up to seeing Dad right now.”

I catch the smallest bit of reddish hair and wide brown eyes before they duck back behind the corner. I smirk at the wall, wondering if Candace believes she’s really that stealthy.

“It’s Christmas, Peter.” Mom voice again. “You can’t take all my kids away.”

“Do you have stuff planned, Mom?”

“You know we can’t afford—”

“Then you’re welcome to stop by my place.” My parents have not set foot in my apartment, and it’s not for a lack of invitation. The apartment is a touchy subject, since both Mad and I moved out before either of them was ready. Mom, emotionally and Dad, financially.

“You know your father won’t be happy.”

“He should be,” I bite. I know she’s not the reason I’m so upset, but I can’t help but let the bitterness out now. I’m getting lectured about Christmas after Dad told me they weren’t doing anythingandafter I committed to paying their mortgage. “He doesn’t have to worry about a disappointed ten-year-old again.”

I let out a long breath, eyeing the corner where I know Candace is hidden. “Can we talk later, Mom? I have to get back to work.”

“Fine.” She hangs up, and I try not to bury my face again. Candace wouldn’t like to discover the guy she hired to teach her to be bad weeping over an argument with his parents.

“You can come out now,” I say, forcing my classic smirk onto my face. Her dark brown eyes peer out from the corner, and an apologetic wrinkle pulls her brow.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “I didn’t mean to listen—”

“You completely meant to listen!” I say with a laugh. Her eyes narrow, and she gives me a good whack in the shoulder as she sits. A lightness eases through the heavy branches inside me, and the thorns start to retract. I scoot closer without really thinking about it and knock my knee against hers. “What’re you doing here?”

Candace has art class on Mondays, so she doesn’t work the late shift, which is about to start. I still haven’t found sleep, but her presence is better than an energy drink.

She lifts her hand, her paycheck clutched between her fingers. “Forgot to pick it up Friday.”

Oh to be in the position to forget pay day. My gut feels sticky and heavy as I realize that every bit of money on mine is now going to my dad.

“So… are you not inviting your parents for Christmas?”

I raise an eyebrow, and that apologetic wrinkle makes an encore appearance.

“Sorry. It’s not my business.”

“No.” I lift a shoulder.

“No it’s not my business or no you’re not inviting them?”

I chuckle and fall against the back cushion. My knee is still pressed against hers. I’d move it, but I kinda like the warmth, and it’s not like she’s straddling me on my bike again. I thought for sure my brain would short-circuit that night and I’d prove every horrible bike horror of hers right.

“I let them know they can come if they want. But I need Demi there.” My eyes focus on my lap. “I’ve got her tree.”

“Is it decorated yet?” she teases.

“Maddie made it look much better, yeah.”

“Good.” She leans into the couch with me, and I wonder why she’s not more in a hurry but grateful she’s sitting in my silence with me. Almost like she’s sucking the tension out of the atmosphere around me bit by bit.

“I hope they come,” she says after a minute.

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