Page 40 of Stupid Dirty

Now my career is over. No more training, no more trophies, no more excuses.

But his attitude towards me is worse than ever.

Maybe the shitty way he treated me was how he always wanted to treat me, and the racing just gave him an excuse.

I’ve given up trying to figure it out.

“You’re right,” I say. Cade’s eyebrows shoot sky-high. I turn my body so I can look him in the eye. “You’re right. He’s getting worse, not better. We’re circling each other in the same old toxic patterns and there isn’t even an excuse for it anymore. I should get out.”

Cade looks completely sideswept, and I’m not surprised. I’m kind of sideswept myself.

An idea occurs to me. It’s dumb, but maybe it’s also just what we need.

“What if I stay here? Just until your dad leaves town, to help hold down the fort. I know there’s not a lot of space, but I’d get some distance from my own shitty dad, and I’d feel better knowing you guys were safe-”

“Yes!” Cade licks his lips nervously, looking a little taken aback by his own enthusiasm. “Yeah. I mean, that’s a good idea.” He blows out a breath and sags, his shoulder brushing against mine. “I’d feel better if you were here, too.”

“Okay. Perfect.” I lick my lips as well, suddenly nervous for no particular reason. “I’ll go home and grab some stuff, and be back in half an hour, then we’ll head out. Cool?”

Cade nods. His gaze hasn’t left my face since we started this conversation. “Cool.”

I don’t move for a second. It feels like there’s something else that needs to be said right now. There’s something heavy in the air, but I can’t figure out what it is.

Cade licks his lips again and leans incrementally further into the space between us. He’s like a magnet, drawing me in as well,until there are only a few inches of charged air separating us. When I look Cade in the eye, I see his gaze flick down to my mouth and then back up.

My stomach bottoms out like I’m on a rollercoaster and there’s a tingle in the tips of my fingers. The moment hangs between us, but no one moves. No one even breathes.

I have to break the tension before I do something insane. Focus on Dad. The fear of what he’s about to do to me is an excellent distraction from whatever confusing shit just happened, so I grab onto it with my brain and don’t let go. Leaning back, I push off Cade’s mattress and walk to the door.

“Silas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug.

“Hey, you’re the one who did all the work and made us friends. This is what friends are for, right?”

A weird expression flits across his face, but it’s gone before I can try to figure it out.

“Right.”

The entire drive back to my house is a blur. I move on muscle memory, my focus turned inwards while I psyche myself up for whatever confrontation is coming. All the things I wouldn’t dare to let myself think, let alone say out loud, are running through my head.

I’m an adult. You can’t control me.

My career is over and we both need to move on.

I don’t owe you anything.

You can’t keep punishing me for what Mom did.

The words tumble through my head like a rototiller, but instead of getting me ready, it feels like they’re carving off a little chunk of my confidence with every turn.

There’s a reason I don’t let myself think about these things. The longer I dwell on it all, the more images of Mom flit through my mind, sending everything off-kilter. I don’t have many memories, and the ones I do are probably colored by Dad’s rants from when he gets drunk and mouthy.

I remember how she used to wake me up in the middle of the night. She would be so panicked, convinced that something terrible had happened, but once she saw I was alright, the relief would wash over her. She’d pull me into her lap and cling to me. I thought it was normal at the time, because it was all I knew. Even now, two decades later, it feels weird to sleep through the night without being woken up. And even though I know it was a sign of how sick she was, I never felt more intensely loved than in those moments.