Page 60 of The Hang Up

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I have some questions about the food,” I said loud enough so anybody listening could hear me. But at this point, I didn’t care. The rage I felt had been building since our trip to Point Pleasant. Maybe before. I’d somehow been able to push it down. Not willing to upset this curious balance we had. Now I was done with all that.

I led him to his study. Safer than his bedroom, and I couldn’t deal with all the memories there. Once we were inside, I slammed the door shut.

“What’s going on?”

“I just talked to my mom. She knows about us—”

“I know. I was there when she grilled us.” Joshua gave me a confused look like I’d hit my head on something.

“You know,” I said through gritted teeth. “But how long have you known?”

“Brock, sweetheart—”

“No.” I held up my hand. “Just tell me the truth. When did my mom figure it out? When did she tell you?”

I could see the realization dawning in his eyes. “After the barbecue. When we were cleaning up.”

“And you didn’t tell me? You didn’t think it was important enough for me to know?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. We were going on vacation, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“It wasn’t your decision to make. I’m an adult.” I practically yelled the words. “Stop treating me like a kid.”

He covered his face with his hands and then pulled them down, blowing out a breath. “I’m not. It wasn’t like that. I’m protective of those I care about. That isn’t anything new. I was going to tell you when we got back, but then your mom called—”

“Who else, Joshua? Who else knows?”

“No one. I mean, Mitch. But you know that.”

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. “How can I trust you?”

“You want to talk about trust? You’ve been upset since we’ve been back, but you never want to talk about it. I don’t think this is about your mom at all.”

“You don’t get to decide why I’m upset. You can’t control everything, Joshua.”

“And you don’t have to be so dramatic about everything.”

I stared at him. He hadn’t said grow up. But it had been implied. And I’d sure the fuck heard it. “I don’t need you to take care of things for me. I don’t need you to protect me. And I sure as hell don’t need a dad.”

I stormed out of the room, not waiting for a response.

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty. Pushing my palms against my eyes, I willed myself not to cry. I couldn’t even go home. I’d agreed to this. Not only making the food but also helping clean up. And I didn’t back out of my responsibilities. That was what my dad had done. My mom had taught us to always follow through. As much as it hurt, I stayed.

Didn’t mean I couldn’t stay hidden. And by hidden, of course, I meant the kitchen.

* * *

“Whatcha doing in here?”

I scrubbed the lemon, avoiding my roommate’s eyes at all costs. Sean and I had never kept secrets from each other. Sure, he’d been vague about Ben, but this was different, and we both knew it.

I was an awful person. The guilt felt heavy in my stomach. Still raw from the fight with Joshua. What was I doing? Risking everything for what? Moments of happiness? But none of it was real.

Joshua was never going to choose me over his son. And wanting him to made me a terrible friend.

No, sleeping with Sean’s dad made me a terrible friend.

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