Page 123 of Small Town Firsts

“So, you’re saying you don’t love Mom?”

“You truly are naïve, son. Your mother was a stepping stone. I wanted a certain type of lifestyle, and she had the purse strings to provide one. Didn’t hurt that she spread her legs for me like a whore. Unfortunately, that led to you.” He spits the words at me, and I’m shaking with barely concealed rage.

“You disgust me.”

As soon as the words pass my lips, his fist slams into my face, sending me onto my ass. “Likewise. But here’s the thing, son. You’regoingto do as I say, or you can kiss this comfortable lifestyle goodbye.”

I rub a hand over my cheek before hefting myself up from the floor. My anger turns to incredulity, because what the fuck is he even talking about? He’s acting like he foots the bill for my life, but that’s a fucking joke. I live—very comfortably, I might add—off of a trust from my Mimi Jean and have a full ride to school. I fight the urge to set his ass straight since Mom asked me to play along.

“It’s like that?” I ask him, trying my best to sound scorned.

“Yeah, son. It is.”

“I see. I guess my hands are tied then, huh?”

At my compliance, it’s like he’s a totally different person. Fucking split personality or some shit. “I don’t want to force anything, but promises and plans have been made, and you need to fall in line.”

Jesus, he’s insane. But there are those three words again. I grind my molars together and give him a terse nod.

“Good boy. I knew you’d come around. Now, next Friday night, Hal Burkett and I have planned an engagement party for you and Amanda at the clubhouse. Be there no later than half past six.”

It fucking kills me to smile and agree, but I do because surely Mom has a plan that will work.

CHAPTER 24

AJ

The past weekhas been nothing short of pure misery. Everything fucking hurts, and my mood is piss and vinegar.

My heart hurts from losing Brock.

My pride hurts from being so easily fooled.

My body hurts from hiding out in my bed anytime I’m not in class.

My head hurts from crying so much.

I’ve never in my entire life felt more pitiful than I do now. I’ve always thought I was strong, but this has proved that I’m not.

Then again, maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit. I’ve at least been strong enough to ignore his calls. The Saturday after everything went down, he called at least every other hour—to ease his guilty conscience, I assume.

Sunday, he only called four times.

Monday and Tuesday, he only called twice.

Wednesday and Thursday, only once.

And today…nothing. Nada. Zip. Which I guess means things are really and truly over. Stacia has been on me relentlessly to either answer or call him back. She’s adamant that there’s more going on than what it seems, but I call bullshit.

Even though she thinks I’m doing myself a disservice by not hearing him out, Stacia has been my rock this week. She’s like my very own fairy godmother. Every morning she shows up with a coffee, some type of pastry, and a pep talk. And every night she brings me dinner, and we watch some sort of girl-power movie.

I’ve always known she was the best bitch on this planet, but this week has shown me she’s so much more amazing than I thought. She doesn’t push me to talk about Brock, other than raising her brow at me when I don’t answer.

But tonight, she says we have plans and that I’ve moped long enough.

“AJ?”Stacia yells my name as she lets herself into the house.

“Bedroom,” I holler back.

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