Page 2 of Mistaken Identity
He should’ve been home this morning right after I left for school, but if he wasn’t there yet, that meant that he was probably still at the firehouse.
Fuck.
I looked across the street at my mom’s house and groaned.
I hated going over there.
Even worse, sometimes I felt like when I went over there, my mom hated me as much as she now hated my dad.
Probably, she had a right to.
When my dad moved out, I’d moved out right along with him.
Because no way was I staying at my mom’s place all alone.
I might get lost in all the shit and never be found again.
My mom was a hoarder.
It all started a couple of years ago when my little sister died during a robbery at the supermarket.
When the dust had settled after my sister’s funeral, Mom had decided never to leave the house again. Along with all of the shit that entered the house.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen her throw a single thing away since she’d rage-cleaned my sister’s room the day before she’d died.
Drawing a deep breath into my lungs, I got out of my truck that was in my grandma’s driveway and walked across the street while shoving my keys into my pocket.
The house was quiet when I made it inside.
I looked around, my face turned down in a frown.
“Mom?” I called.
My mom and dad had split three months ago.
Dad had found another woman that he fell in love with, and instead of forcing himself to stay and make a marriage between him and my mom work when it couldn’t, he’d left.
He hadn’t gotten with the other woman yet, though.
He was giving it time, being respectful.
Not rubbing it in.
He planned on waiting a year before he made his move on the woman that he fell in love with.
Which I completely respected.
My parents hadn’t ever had a great married life.
I could remember from my earliest memories, my mom and dad fighting like cats and dogs.
Once I was older and could understand why they were fighting, I never could figure out why they were still together.
Dad was a great dad—that was why I lived with him instead of my mother.
I loved him, and he loved me.
He came to all my games—even if he had to bring the entire firehouse with him when he was at work on those days.
