Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TESSA
Silence reined throughout my car for the first two minutes of the drive back to Hope House. I clutched the steering wheel in an unrelenting grip, trying to figure out how to get through to this girl, when she suddenly spoke up.
“God, Kelsey’s mom is such a bitch.”
I cut my eyes in her direction. “Seriously?”
Her arms were once again crossed over her chest; her eyes, rimmed with thick coal eyeliner that did nothing but detract from her natural beauty, glared straight ahead as she pouted. “Well it’s true, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t bring myself to argue that fact, because the girl didn’t lie. Kelsey’s mom was a bitch. But that wasn’t the point. “First of all, watch your mouth.”
She let out a snort before I could say anything else. “Now you’re gonna get on my case about cussing? So much for you being cool,” she added on a mutter under her breath.
“Getting on you about your language has nothing to do with whether I’m cool or not.
It’s about respect. When you speak like that to an adult, you’re telling us you don’t respect us, and I won’t tolerate it.
I’m not your friend, Charity. I don’t care if you think I’m not cool.
The only thing I care about is your wellbeing. Got it?”
She huffed and turned to face the passenger window. “Yeah, I got it. Jeez.”
I chanced a brief look in her direction before turning back to the road ahead. “And while we’re at it, how about you lose the attitude as well?”
“And how about you get off my back, huh?” she snapped.
Slowing the car, I flipped on my signal and pulled to the side of the road, throwing the gear shift into park when I came to a stop so I could turn to face her head on.
“Let’s get something straight. You made the choice to cut class with your friends today, not me.
You decided to go into that woman’s business, a business she has more than likely worked herself to the bone to build, and steal from her.
Again, that wasn’t me. You want to be treated like an adult?
That’s something you earn, Charity. And as far as I can see, you haven’t done one single thing to earn that. ”
“Whatever,” she grumbled with a roll of her eyes.
“No, it’s not whatever,” I snapped. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to really listen to me.
You want to be mad at the world for the raw deal you were given?
Again, that’s on you. But one day, you’re going to be too old to blame your messed-up childhood for the mistakes you make.
You’re going to have to make a decision soon, Charity.
You can either choose to continue down the path you’re on now, or you can choose to be better than the hand you were dealt, but you’re going to reach an age in the not-too-distant future where you’ll be held accountable for your own actions, no matter what your childhood was like, and making excuses isn’t going to do you a bit of good. ”
She’d turned to face me during my lecture, her face pinching with an agonizing sorrow she masked with rage.
“You don’t know shit about me!” she seethed.
“You probably had the perfect parents and lived in a perfect house. You can’t imagine what my life’s been like.
You’re just another fancy bitch like Kelsey’s mom.
Only you’re worse, because you have a stupid savior complex! ”
It took me several seconds to get my bearings enough to speak again, and when I did, my voice came out husky, raw with emotion.
“Every time you have to move from one foster home to another, they pack all your stuff up in garbage bags.” Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t say a word as I continued.
“It sucks, because seeing all your belongings like that makes you feel disposable. Like garbage. Then you get to your new home, which isn’t really a home, but just some house you’ll eventually be taken from all over again, and everything you own smells like plastic garbage bags.
All the kids at your school know what you are just by that smell and they make fun of you for it. ”
Charity’s lips parted on a thick exhale. “H-how . . . how did you . . .?”
“You were right. I had the perfect parents, and we lived in the perfect house. Then they died when I was ten years old,” I replied in a choked whisper.
“For eight years, I bounced around from one place to another, always stinking like plastic garbage bags.” Leaning close, I reached up to cup her cheek, brushing away the moisture that had fallen from her eyes.
“But you were also wrong. I don’t have a savior complex, sweetheart.
Yes, I want to help you, but only because I know from experience how hard all of this is for you.
” I dropped my hand and sat back before she had a chance to pull away from me.
“So you don’t have to think I’m cool, and you don’t have to like me.
But you should know, no matter how you act or how rude you are, I’m not giving up. ”
I left it at that and put the car back into motion. The rest of the drive was silent. It wasn’t until I cut the ignition and Charity opened the door that I spoke again. “You know you’re totally grounded, right?”
She shifted in her seat, one foot on the gravel outside, the other still in the car. “What?”
“No electronics, no TV, and no phone for a week.”
“No way!” she cried, the moody kid back in full force.
“Did you really think that because the cops took it easy on you, there wouldn’t be any repercussions?”
She let out a melodramatic whine. “Omigod, this sucks. I can’t go without my phone!” she cried. “What if there’s an emergency?”
“Lucky for you, the only places you’ll be are school and here, surrounded by a bunch of grown-ups more than capable of using their phones should the worst happen and a zombie apocalypse strikes.”
“So what am I supposed to do for a whole week?”
“Oh, don’t you worry.” I gave her an evil grin. “You’ll be too busy catching up on all the school work you’ve missed, and helping me, Reggie, Diana, and anyone else who needs it with chores around here. Starting with dinner.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Just consider this part of my epic un-coolness.” I jerked my chin toward the house. “Now go on.”
She stomped to the front door, but didn’t bother arguing.
I’d take that as a win.
After finishing my day at Hope House, I grabbed my stuff and headed out.
I barely had the energy to hit up Fresh Foods on my way home—or, more accurately, on the way back to the inn, but I was out of wine, and the only things I had to eat were some bits of leftover cheese and a half-filled tube of crackers.
That wasn’t going to cut it. After the day I’d had, I required chocolate.
Lots and lots of chocolate. And maybe something just a bit more substantial so I could at least claim I attempted to eat a few things from the other food groups.
Working in order of importance, I hit up the candy aisle first, in search of what I referred to as The Triple Threat: Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, Twix, and Three Musketeers. All of which required at least an hour in the freezer before consumption.
I threw three bags each of the fun-sized candy bars into my cart and moved on to the wine aisle.
I’d just rounded the corner toward the produce section when I jerked to a stop. At the sight of Bryce standing only a yard or so away of me, my lungs deflated.
I’d worked so hard these past few weeks to avoid him, hoping that the old adage, “out of sight, out of mind,” would prove true. But I hadn’t been so lucky. Even though I hadn’t laid eyes on him, he was constantly in my thoughts.
At random times I’d find myself wondering what he was doing in that moment or if he was thinking about me.
I’d think about what he’d said to me as he stood by his truck, how he’d never lied to me.
Each night I dreamed of that week we’d had together.
And when the thoughts overwhelmed me, I’d move to the wardrobe where I’d stashed an old shoe box and flip it open.
I’d told myself a million times over the years that I hated him, and when I was packing to make the move from Houston to Hope Valley, I’d found the box in the back of my closet and contemplated throwing it away.
But I couldn’t.
No matter how scarred my heart was, I hadn’t been able to let go of the memories in that box. And now that he was back in my life, I found myself rifling through it more than I had in the last decade.
As if feeling my gaze on him like lasers beating into his skin, his head swiveled in my direction.
The moment he saw me, those spearmint eyes flared, and those full, puffy lips stretched into a smile.
And God, what a smile it was. Even better than the ones I’d gotten from the detective at the police station earlier that day.
My feet stayed glued to the floor as he closed the distance between us. “Tessa.”
That one word came out rough and smoky, and my body reacted instantly. Thank goodness for the long sleeves the chill outside required, because they were the only thing hiding the goosebumps that had broken out across my skin. Fighting back a shiver, I carefully blanked my face and replied, “Bryce.”
The shivers grew worse, and I felt my nipples stiffen as he looked me up and down like a man dying of hunger. “How . . .” He cleared his throat against the rasp and started over. “How have you been?”
“Good. Busy. And you?” Dear Lord, had polite small talk ever been so awkward?
“I’ve been all right.” He was all right. “All right” wasn’t quite in league with “good.” Had his word choice been intentional?
He scoped out the contents of my cart, humor dancing in his gaze, as he mumbled, “Wow. That’s a lot of candy and wine.”