Page 85 of A Wreck, You Make Me

Yes, because after I’ve had time to think about it all, I’m starting to realize maybe itwasmy fault. If I hadn’t said anything, maybe dad would still be here. Jeremy would never have become a permanent fixture in our lives. Maybe my mother wouldn’t be so dysfunctional and hateful. I can’t remember how she was before Dad left but I think she didn’t hate me so much.

“B-but I told my dad about the affair,” I tell him, my heart pounding in my chest. “I was angry at my m-mom and I?—”

“How old were you?”

“Five.”

Anger flashes through his features. “I stand corrected. Sheisa piece of shit and so is your dad.”

“But—”

“Did you make your mother cheat?” he asks and biting my lip, I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. She did that all on her own. If you hadn’t said anything, someone else would have. Or your dad would’ve found out in some other way. But hewould’vefound out. So no, it’s not your fault. You were fucking five. She shouldn’t have put that on you but she did because she was looking to blame someone other than herself for fucking up her life. Do you understand?”

I swallow, my eyes wide. I didn’t think of it in that way.

“Tell me you understand that,” he insists then, his voice low.

“Yes,” I say instantly.

“And if she ever comes around, you’re going to tell me.”

“I will.”

He nods with satisfaction and my belly flutters. Before I can dwell on that, he continues, “As for your father, he would’ve left one way or another. Because hewantedto leave. You don’t fucking divorce your cheating wife and then never see your kid for the rest of your life. Unless you really don’t want to. Unless you wanted to leave for a long time. And you know it has nothing to do with you either, right? It’s not your fault. Some men are just born bastards who don’t know how to handle responsibility.”

Yeah, like his father left. He did because he wanted to. I know my mother had a hand in it but maybe he was looking for an excuse too. And before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Like your… father.”

His anger is palpable now and I press my spine into the wall, fisting my hands. I know I shouldn’t have brought it up. He never likes it when I bring up things and while I could have before, now I absolutely have no right. But before I can backtrack, he replies, in a low tone, “Yeah.”

And I breathe out in relief.

“Why did he call you that night?” he asks next.

He means the night when he found my phone and therefore, my secret. Swallowing thickly, I reply, “I-I guess, to ask me for money. He never really calls me or talks to me or whatever. But my mother had been calling me about borrowing money and…” When I see his eyes narrow, I quickly clarify, “But I won’t give her any money, not anymore. And as I said, I’ll tell you if and when she c-comes around.”

My answer doesn’t really put him at ease because his eyes are still narrowed and something thrums under his skin that I’ve never seen before. It gets my heart racing as he asks, “Did my father ever?—”

“No,” I say immediately. I don’t even let him finish the question because I already know what he’s asking. He’s asking if his father ever hurt me and he didn’t. Not that way. He never laid a violent hand on me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Because if you’re fucking lying again?—”

“I’m not.”

I mean, not technically. Because yes, he didn’t hurt me but it’s not as if he didn’t try or want to. But I’m not going to go there. It’s in the past. Nothing happened. Nothingwillever happen. I’m safe now. I’m truly and absolutely safe. Safer than ever. Snow too.

He watches me a beat before exhaling long and hard. Like he can finally breathe again. And it’s so hard to just stand here and not go to him. To not touch him, hug him. To tell him I’m okay and everything is okay. That he doesn’t need to worry about me all that much. He’s already doing so many things. Plus I don’t even think I deserve it after everything.

I don’t get to say anything because he growls at me, picking up a thread I forgot about until now, “And second, if I made you realize you’re worth taking care of, then why the fuck are you saying no to college?”

How did he… Right, of course. God, I need to really get with the program. Didn’t I already just establish that he did everything, that he was behind it all? So why wouldn’t he be behind this whole college thing that Callie brought up earlier?

“How did you,” I ask, unable to stop myself, “know about the dance thing? That I want to study dance.”

I wish I could say his eyes display something mysterious at my question, but I can’t. His eyes, his expression, his entire body screams one and only one thing at me as to how he knows I want to study dancing. He knows it better than anyone else because he’s the only one I’ve danced for. The intimacy alone in his stare kills me so I have to look away as he says, “That was a stupid fucking question.” I wince, curling my bare toes as he goes on, “And Snow confirmed it when we had our chat.”