Page 44 of Hate Wrecked

Not the way my mother and Asa were—fighting and warring against each other. Jealousy and secrets.

My mom thought Asa was cheating on her. And I wish I didn’t know she was right. Nothing about him screamed faithful partner for life.

At least not with my mother.

I thought she was more of an experiment than a wife. He thought having a relationship with an older woman would be fun. He never wanted to marry one. He never wanted stepdaughters. He never wanted any of this, but he took it.

He took this family, and…now it was poisoned.

“Do you like being there more than here? Rowan asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” I said. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in my answer. Rowan was the only thing there that brought me joy. The only thing that made me smile.

I missed my mother and who she was, who we were together. And when my sisters were here, they were shells of themselves.

And all I did was worry about them.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered, looking at the door.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” I responded. “I’m sure you would rather be out there.” I don’t know why I said it. Why would he want to be out there? He didn’t party. He didn’t do the things the guests at the party did. He said he read and hiked. He liked quiet evenings with a good movie.

His blue eyes pierced me. “You know I wouldn't rather be out there.”

“Yeah,” I rushed. “I forgot you don’t party.”

“Must seem pretty dull to you,” he said, looking away.

“No. It seems steady. Steady is good.”

“Yeah. Steady. It’s sort of what I’ve always had to be.”

“Why’s that?” I asked

Rowan looked at the door. “For my mother. She had a hard time after my father. And being in a new country. Sometimes, I didn’t feel like her son; I felt more like a friend. Which… I see now that isn’t entirely healthy. She was a good mum, but sometimes it felt like I had to take care of her. So I get it.”

I looked away, burned by his honesty. I didn’t like it. “I don’t want to take care of her.”

“I know.”

“It’s not my job.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rowan agreed.

“I have to take care of my sisters. And myself,” I said, my words like a mantra. “Until they are old enough to live on their own.”

“Is that why you aren’t living alone yet?” he asked.

I was eighteen—old enough to leave the house, to have one of my own. It would be bought by my parents, sure, but still—a safe place to escape the noise. But no, I was stuck in a purgatory of their making, watching my sisters watch the chaos around us.

“Yes,” I said running my hands through my hair.

“I hope you can find a good reason to stay. Something good here, if possible,” he replied. And I wished he knew.

He was all of the good things.

Maybe that’s why I pushed him away after that night. Why I let myself fall deeper into the games Barry played.

Why I convinced myself I liked them.

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