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I shift in my seat, growing warmer and warmer despite the evening chill. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

But do I want him to?

Obviously.

I’m too intrigued and attracted to him to keep my distance.

“Whatever,” Dempsey says as he leans over to put the cigarette out on the porch floor. “Just giving my opinion.”

“Here’s my opinion,” I say, nodding at the discarded cigarette butt on the ground between us. “Smoking is bad for you. You’re not even old enough to legally buy them.”

“Since when do I follow any rules?” he counters, voice taunting.

“What does your dad think about you trying to get cancer before adulthood?”

“Honestly, he never really says anything.”

“Your mom?”

“She pretends not to notice. As long as I don’t blatantly do it in the living room, no one cares.”

The last three words are sharp and punctuated.

No. One. Cares.

I feel we’re teetering back onto the precipice of something big with Dempsey. In our conversations, he’s done a lot of complaining about his family, but I’m beginning to see a theme here. He feels unseen. Lost in the crowd. Forgotten. It makes sense why he’s always acting out. It’s an obvious cry for attention.

“They care,” I assure him. “How do you connect with your family? Besides riling them up with your words and bad boy behavior.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Bad boy behavior. You’re such a goodie-goodie, Tate.”

Wasn’t such a goodie-goodie when I got your brother hard in front of your family…

“Hardly,” I grumble, cheeks burning hot once more.

“They’re all too busy up each other’s asses all the time.”

“If they weren’t too busy, what would you hope to get from your family?”

He stills aside from the way he spins a silver skull ring around his middle finger. “Maybe a fucking thank you?”

The bitterness in his tone is sharp and prickly.

“Thank you for…”

“For being the goddamn scapegoat. The family fuck-up. Do you know how many times I’ve taken heat to protect everyone?” He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring into the darkness beyond the porch. “No one cares.”

There it is again.

No. One. Cares.

“Why do you feel it’s your duty to throw yourself on the landmine each time your family runs into problems?”

“That’s what we do,” he grumbles. “We Parks look out for each other.”

“Could they possibly be looking out for you in other ways that you’re not aware of?”

“Who the hell knows.”