Page 88 of Against the Autumn Pines
My hand went back to her waist, and I closed my eyes, effectively ending the conversation, or at least trying to.
“I can’t say it back?” she asked, her tone a little stronger now and filled with indignation.
“Nope. I don’t want to hear it while you’re stressed and still in shock from everything that just happened. I can wait till you’re clear-headed and ready to drop to your knees and beg me to let you say it.” I opened an eye and peeked down to see her pouting slightly, and I chuckled. “Good night, little flame.”
She sighed and cuddled up against my chest. “The doors are locked, right?”
“Locked extra tight, alarm is on, and my phone is on loud just in case anything happens,” I said confidently.
I felt her nod and lean her forehead against my bare chest.
“Thank you, Batman,” she whispered.
“Anything for you, Poison Ivy.”
38
A PRETTY DRESS + SMILE
Ember
“Ember,where the fuck do you think you’re going? We’re having a conversation,” Mom shouted.
“No, you’re having a conversation. I’m an unwilling participant. I’m going to Grandpa’s.” I had no energy for this with her right now. I had SATs this weekend, and I needed to study. None of which was happening because my brothers were out in the garage fixing their dirt bikes with the music blaring through the entire house.
“No, you aren’t. We are talking. Your father will be home this weekend, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.” I rolled my eyes, unable to hold back how ridiculous she sounded.
“Oh, let me guess, his newest Ponzi scheme didn’t work out, so he’s home to leech more money out of us? Sure hope his dick is good enough for all this drama.”
Lori Dunagan was a hard woman to shock, but sometimes I gother—like right now. As if at almost seventeen years old, I had no concept of sex or that my sperm donor was a piece of human garbage.
I’d spent years trying to capture that man’s love, but the only love he had in his heart was for himself. I didn’t want to compete anymore, nor would I.
“I have my SATs on Saturday morning. I’ll do my best to be home with a pretty dress and smile, waiting for my wonderful father, okay?” I said, trying to tone down the condescending edge in my voice. It wasn’t totally my mother’s fault she was wrapped around his finger so tight. Grandpa said that my father could sell a blind man a pair of eyeglasses. He was just a sweet talker, and sadly, he chose to use his powers for evil.
He’d disappear for weeks, sometimes months, sending Mom money when she could get a hold of him, but that was it. For all we knew, he had some other family out there he was fucking around with too.
“I don’t even know why you’re bothering with them. We aren’t paying for college, Ember.”
“I didn’t ask you to. I’ll see you later,” I muttered as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out the front door.
Jumping on my bike, I started peddling to my Grandpa’s house. It was a few miles, but that was good. Gave me time to think and calm myself.
I wanted to open a bakery—sell some of my Grandma’s old recipes and more of mine. Serve fancy coffee and yummy pastries that made people feel good, but I knew I’d be a better bet if I went to college, had my business degree, and took some extra culinary classes. That meant I had to go to school in the city, which meant more money.
Money I didn’t have, but scholarships? Those I could apply for. So that was my goal. Apply for anything I even sort of qualified for and make it happen.
When I pulled up to my Grandpa’s house, he smiled at me from the front porch. “Thought you were studying today.”
“Evan and Elliot have Disturbed cranked so loud in the garage, I’m shocked you couldn’t hear it from here. Can I use the kitchen table?” I asked with a ridiculous puppy dog pout look on my face.
He chuckled. “Of course, doll. Go on in.”
I kissed his cheek on my way in and let out a sigh of relief. I was home.
My brain feltlike a pile of scrambled eggs, and I wanted to scream, but instead, my eyes focused on the single stream of sunlight coming into the room. It was bright as fuck, and my internal clock was telling me it was late in the day. I needed to get up.
The dream I’d had—the memory—had me on edge. I hadn’t thought about that day in a million years. I’d lost count over the years of the times I’d used Grandpa’s house as a refuge. He was the only one who ever knew about my dream with the bakery, the only one I trusted to really support me in the dream.
