Page 42 of 2204 Hunter Lane
Every time I drove drunk, every single time, I expected a reaction. But never once was it given. Never did he ever stop me to say, “son, you keep doin’ that and you’ll wound up like your mother,” or “Hunt, I can’t lose you too.”
None of that shit. He let me suffer alone, while he had a new woman distracting him, feeding his urges while he set aside the sadness.
I didn’t have the luxury of doing that, and he didn’t give a fuck about who I was or who I became because of it all.
My eyes focused on my phone screen, a calendar reminder popping up that read: Thanksgiving Day.
Ha-ha.What a blessed start to the fucking event.
I found a few missed texts from Britt and Josh saying:
1:02am – Josh: Why’d you call me?
1:02am – Britt: Are you okay, Hunty? I missed your call.
1:16am – Britt: Miss me? *open image*
My dick hardened at her naked picture, making a mental note to call her over when I got back.
1:19am – Josh: Lemme know that you’re alive, man.
8:32am – Britt: Happy Thanksgiving Hunty!!!
Checking my call log, I realized I’d dialled both of them a handful of times, probably out of my mind wasted cause there’s no way I’d just talk for shits.
I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a grey thermal, combing back my blonde locks with my fingers.
It was only ten a.m. and I was wide awake for some reason. Probably the urge to get out of the house, as far away from my dad and Bambi as possible.
But not without an apology. As much as I didn’t remember the night, I knew there were lines that had been stepped over. And I couldn’t go on with my day knowing I’d crossed those boundaries; not just with her, but with anyone.
I stalked down the hallway, passing my dad and Payton’s room and resisted the urge to slide up the middle finger.
Bambi was staying in the guest bedroom and before I could lift my bruised knuckles to knock, her quiet voice floated through the cracks of the door.
It was muffled, so I couldn’t exactly point out what she was saying, but I heard enough.
“This is why I didn’t tell you –”
“Mom, you’re not listening to me.”
“Please, just –”
And sobs. Tiny little Bambi sobs that glued me to the floor.
In that moment, I didn’t know what to do. I’d nursed crying girls to good health before but definitely not in the ways Bambi would like to heal… not in the ways I could help her even if I tried.
She probably hated my guts and it was warranted. After the disaster of last night, I’d hate me too. Fuck, I already did.
Bambi sounded so… helpless. Like she’d had this conversation with her mom before or something.
Come to think of it, I never actually asked her about her family life in the city. And that’s when it hit me, what I’d said last night… it all came back.
I was assuming she just screwed a bunch of rich pricks and sold her soul to the wolves of Wall Street? Who fucking says that? What was I thinking?
There really wasn’t much I knew about Bambi other than her surprise appearance in my life, the fact she read books, was damn annoying and a wizard at growing the family business.
She also had this weird thing of greeting everyone who passed her. Like she sought out any single person who looked in her direction just so she could say hello.
