Page 123 of Bred
Lies. I’m so jealous. I didn’t even know him, wasn’t even legal, but if I could retroactively wipe his mind of every non-relative woman who has ever resided in it, I would.
It’s his fault I’m so crazy when it comes to this stuff. He’s so handsome, every girl he meets wants to steal him from me. I’ve seen people stop on the streets to do a double take after catching sight of him.
His rough and tumble guy friends even give him hell about it. They say he attracts too much attention on jobs, rib him that someday his damn face is going to get them all in deep shit.
He’s never done anything to make me doubt him, though. Loyalty runs through his veins as thick as blood and that’ssosexy to me.
An eruption of sadness rises up out of nowhere.
I guess it’s not out of nowhere. He should be here, and he isn’t, and I don’t know why. My mind wants to go to all the worst places, but I can’t let it.
Tears sting my eyes and I grab the replacement toilet paper roll off the back of the toilet.
Bristol watches with a pained look as I tear off a few squares and fold them so I can blow my nose. “He really didn’t text or anything?”
I shake my head.
“That’s so not like him,” she murmurs.
“You’re telling me,” I mutter back as I toss the wadded-up paper in the trash bin.
“Did he say what he was doing before this?”
I shrug, not really wanting to give her any details. Not that I even know any—he tells me the less I know about it, the better—but I know he does risky stuff. “He had to work,” I say vaguely.
“At the garage, or…?”
She trails off to avoid outright asking if I mean legitimate work, or the other kind.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I guess I should just get this dress off.”
“Do you need help with the zipper?” she asks as I brush past her and escape the tiny bathroom.
“I’m fine,” I call loudly, hoping she takes the hint and doesn’t follow me.
I want to be alone right now.
Well, that’s not true, but the person I want to be with isn’t here.
Once I’m in my bedroom with the door closed, I rip out the sparkly pins and release my long blonde hair from the prison of its up do. I unclasp the necklace Lucas bought me for our three-month anniversary and try not to cry as I fight with the zipper on the back of my dress.
With increasing irritation, I give up on the stuck zipper and go over to my dresser to grab what I plan to change into—his shirt, the one he let me wear home one night. He never asked for it back, and I never offered it because it smells like him, and I like to keep it stashed in my bottom drawer where I can pull it out on nights like these.
This isn’t the first. I hope it’s not the last, too.
I don’tenjoynights like these by any means, but I’ll take as many of them as I have to if it means eventually, he’ll come home to me.
I don’t care that he does bad guy shit for money. I know the real him, and I know he’s amazing. He’s just willing to do whatever it takes to provide for his loved ones.
I don’t know, maybe it’s messed up, but I find that admirable.
I catch movement in the hall and think Bristol may have come up after me, but it’s not Bristol. It’s our friend, Hailey McKinney. Her parents passed away last year, and she didn’t have any relatives in our school district she could stay with. She has a grandmother she doesn’t get along with who lives out of state, but when she was supposed to go there, she packed her shit and ran away.
She’s living with us right now.
I’m clutching his T-shirt in my stolen prom dress with my makeup running when I turn to face her.
Where my responsible older sister was concerned and ready to lend an ear if I wanted to pour my heart out to her, Hailey stops in the door jamb, props a hand on her hip, and asks, “Want me to go grab my baseball bat? You can take off that ugly dress and I’ll grab my shoes. We can go fuck up his car.”
