Page 25 of Break Me
Six
Fuck Benji Silva.
That’s all I can think as I pace around my living room, trying to work up the courage to go into Mom’s room, which, as my father just informed me, is likely the place she’ll die.
Die.
But I don’t really want to think about that, even though it’s really been a long time coming, so I think about Benji. Right now, he’s a distraction.
I need one.
I sink down into one of the stiff, dark wooden chairs, thankful my parents never really made us eat dinner in here unless it was something for Dad’s work. Mom was a dancer, and she liked to eat dinner in the living room. On the floor, crisscross applesauce style. And whatever Mom wanted, she usually got. Even now, Dad is still wrapped around her little finger.
Benji practically pushed me out of his condo, without telling me a damn thing about why he had a gun and was looking for a guy called Rolland.
Being practical, I searched for Rolland in Toronto, and found several, one giving me more pause than the others. A real estate mogul. But aside from many pictures of him in suits at various parties and functions, I could find nothing that would indicate why Benji would need a gun if he thought he was nearby.
I sigh, put my head in my hands.
Probably not the right Rolland.
I’m still feeling a little dehydrated and a lot hungover, and my feet ache from dancing the night away. But even that can’t stop the slow smile that curves on my lips. Because despite how it all came crashing down this morning, last night was fun, and as far as I know, there wasn’t even a single picture taken of me. Besides that, I know Benji had been watching me dance, and he didn’t mention that I’d done anything particularly embarrassing.
Although, then again, after he got that phone call and barged into Riley’s condo, he hadn’t mentioned much of anything.
I kind of feel bad for Riley. She’s got two dudes that seem to monitor her every breath and the girl just wants to hang with her bestie.
But as my phone vibrates on the table in front of me, I remember someone is trying—and failing—to monitor my every move too. And that failing part is really pissing Dumont off.
I pick up my phone and glance at the millionth text he’s sent since last night.
What the fuck, Ava? Are you okay? Dead? You weren’t in class today.
No shit I wasn’t in class. I’d told Tess I would miss this morning, and she’s coming over for dinner tonight, but I hadn’t bothered to tell Dumont, and I don’t even know why. Maybe because since he told me about the divorce, I’m feeling kind of…apprehensive. When he was still married, it meant things couldn’t go too far.
Now, though…
I switch my phone to silent and flip it over, laying my head on the table.
“Honey?” Dad’s voice.
I jump, and sit bolt upright, twisting in my seat to see him in the entranceway, a frown on his face.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?” He’s been waiting for me in their bedroom for a few minutes now. I changed out of my dress and into AG jeans and a pink t-shirt, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
Even still, I nod.
He’s losing the love of his life, and he’s holding his shit together, as he also presides over the shithole that is Briar. I can get myself together for this.
I stand to my feet, leave my phone on the table, and walk toward my father. I see his blue eyes—a shade darker than mine—are lined with red and there are deep purple shadows beneath them. As I walk closer to him, I feel some of my strength leave me.
I’m 22.
I’m going to need Mom for a long, long time. I need her right now. I want to talk to her about boys, including Dumont and Benji. I want to tell her how I have no idea what the hell I want to do with my life, and how I feel guilty being able to let that decision go for now, because of her and Dad’s money.
I want to tell her to take me with her, wherever she’s going.
