Page 48 of Wreckage of Me
It’s the fact that he saidyetthat’s throwing me into a fit of anger. We’re not doneyet. It implies that we will be over, but it’s got to be on his timeline.
I march over to the door, watching him heading toward Sully’s truck. Right before he’s about to get in, I call after him.
“Stay out of my life, asshole!” Then slam the door shut, rushing to turn the three locks I have on it.
The adrenaline rush I felt only seconds ago seems to be diminishing by the second. I turn around and press my back against the hard surface, sliding down and all the way to the floor.
I really wish my mom was alive right now. I want her to hold me and tell me that boys suck, but that I’ll find a good one at some point in my life. I just need to be patient. Forget this ever happened.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
I jump at hearing my brother’s voice calling from upstairs. I glance that way and see him sitting on the top step, looking all sad and pitiful.
“Colt,” I force my legs to hold me in a standing position, then go up the steps, one at a time, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.
When I finally make it to the top one where Colt is, I drop next to him and lean my head on his shoulder. It’s just the two of us against the world. That’s how it’s been for over five years, we’re a team.
“Are you okay?” I ask him gently. I can tell something is bothering him. Something that’s way bigger than his sister being pregnant and him not knowing about it.
The big sigh he lets out is breaking my heart, so I let him have his moment. When he finally speaks, I feel all the blood draining from my head.
“It’s almost their anniversary again.”
This is for the first time since my parents’ accident that the date of when it happened completely slipped my mind. To say that I feel awful doesn’t even begin to describe it, especially when I see what it’s doing to my brother.
We sit in complete silence for a couple of minutes. Colton is wrapped in his grief, and I am just in shock over the fact that the two of us have been on our own for close to six years now. How has it been this long already?
“I hope they know about my scholarship,” Colton mumbles, sounding so small in the shy way he says it. “Dad used to say all the time, that I got what it takes, I just need to put in the work, right?” he chuckles.
“I remember that,” I nudge him with my elbow. I was such a busy teenager at the time, too busy to attend all my brother’s football games. But I remember our parents being so proud of him over it, especially Dad.
“And now that I got that,” Colton continues, “what else is there?”
“What do you mean?” I move a little to look at his face. It’s all sad and his eyes look glassy.
“I got the scholarship he always believed I deserved,” he shrugs in self deprecation. “Now what?”
“Colt,” I wrap an arm around him. “I thought you did this because you love football.”
“I do love it.”
“Then… I’m confused,” I confess. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to be away from home. Away from you.” He starts playing with a tag hanging off the bottom of the t-shirt he’s go on, flicking it over and over, in an almost hypnotic move.
“I’ll come to your games any chance I get,” I promise. “I am so proud of you.” And now I’m crying.
Colton turns sideways on the step and puts his arms around me, wrapping me in the biggest hug. He got his size from our dad, and now, in the way he’s holding me, he makes me think of Dad even more.
“Don’t cry now,” he croons. “Like you’re hormonal or some shit.”
I burst into laughter at his comment. “What do you know about being a hormonal girl?”
He just shrugs and doesn’t offer any other information, but his next question puts me on high alert.
“Would you keep it?”
“Keep what?”
