Chapter 2
Delaney
It seems impossible that I share DNA with the drunk slob currently hogging the bathroom when he knows that I have to leave in thirty minutes.
However, that’s what my mother says and who am I to challenge the facts?
I can just hear my grief counselor now…focus on what you can change, Delaney.
Easier said than done and much of what she said turned out to be useless because despite her best efforts, I simply couldn’t accept the bullshit she tried so hard to get me to swallow.
What the kind, older woman with fuzzy eyebrows did teach me though, was how to battle the surges of anxiety that I couldn’t explain but pressed at my chest at the most inconvenient of times.
I can’t say it’s anxiety I’m feeling right now but if counting back from fifteen will temper the annoyance creating an ache in the base of my skull, I’m not above using it.
Although it’s only been six months since I left my home, it feels like an eternity and on days like today, I’m reminded of what I lost.
It’s not just access to more than one bathroom. I’m not a complete asshole but after seventeen years of having certain freedoms, it’s that much harder to accept the current circumstances.
While part of me longs to set everything aside and just go home. I know it’s not that easy.
I tried…I did, and days passed while I shoved that shit to the farthest reaches of my brain and moved on, but it lingered like a wound that just wouldn’t heal.
However, the dam holding those emotions broke the day I came home and found my stepdad holding my mom while she wailed and thrashed in his arms. I’ll never forget the raspy desperation in her voice as she begged to die while Peter pinned his condemning gaze on me before bowing his head.
All of this led me back here, to Joey…my dad.
Unfortunately, he’s not used to sharing his space and I’m not used to a drunk slob who doesn’t fucking care about anything but his next drink and what’s playing on the television.
I suppose I should be grateful that he can feed and clean himself but every day that I wake up to his drunken antics, I’m forced to accept how far and fast my situation has changed.
With a groan, I tap on the bathroom door again as my phone buzzes against my hip.
Of course, the asshole doesn’t bother to respond.
I turned eighteen two weeks ago. I’m legally free to do whatever I want but I’m still holding out the hope that I can graduate, and it’s taking me longer to save money.
It wouldn’t be so bad if Joey could remember to pay a fucking bill occasionally, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
He’s no more thrilled about me being here than I am but I don’t know what to do, so I’m existing and it fucking sucks.
Beyond that, after skipping the game last night, I now have to face the music. I woke to a slew of messages from the cheer team, all of which demanded to know where the hell I was last night.
It shouldn’t matter but my friends are the last vestige of normal that I’m clinging to.
However, I know explaining my need to tutor the devil for money will only lead to why and I don’t have a sufficient answer.
While they’re partying and hoping to skate through senior year in anticipation of graduating, I’m working my ass off to make sure the bills get paid.
To say our lives are now worlds apart would be an understatement. I should have quit Cheer before the year started but I wanted so badly to have one normal thing in my life amongst the chaos.
Besides, once I let that go, it will be a slippery slope to losing my friends. And what am I going to do? Invite them home to meet Daddy sitting in the yard in his freaking boxers?
Yeah…no.
Since I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I agreed to go to a party at Celina’s this evening. Celina lives on “the hill” with all the other rich kids.
Although we’re not the closest of friends, I appreciate her no-nonsense attitude and ability to rein Becky in when she’s spiraling out of control.
Still, dread pools in my stomach as I drop down on the bench in front of the dinner and wait for Lana to pick me up.
Thankfully, this isn’t a popular hangout for the crew, but I know, eventually, they’re going to hear about my job waiting tables.
I’m ready with excuses, although weary of the subterfuge. If I admit it to myself, I’ll go down a spiral of other thoughts, which is why I avoid the knowledge that I’m ashamed to admit just how far my family has fallen.
When Lana pulls up in her pretty little sedan gifted to her on her sixteenth birthday, I slide into the passenger seat and smile, ignoring the pang of jealousy that settles in my gut.
If I hadn’t left Mom and Peter, I’d still be driving my own vehicle.
Slamming the door closed to those thoughts, I touch up my hair in the mirror while Lana pulls away from the curb. I feel sweaty and grimy after my walk from the trailer, but thank god, I look fine per my reflection.
“What happened yesterday?” she says, glancing at me before making a right turn.
Hiding my grimace, I mumble, “I went home sick.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you text me? We were worried.”
Guilt gnaws at my insides, and I avoid her bright blue gaze by looking over her shoulder.
The truth trembles on my tongue but swallowing that shit back, I say, “I’m sorry. I was so messed up that I didn’t think about it.”
“Hm,” she hums, and I smooth my fingers down my thighs. What? What the fuck does “hm” mean?
“Well,” she continues, “Robert told Cammie, who told William that he saw you in the library with Draven.”
Ugh. I guess I should have thought that one out. Good news travels fast in this group.
“Um,” I say, fumbling with my phone when it chirps in my lap. Saved by the bell. Thank God.
You on your way, babe?
Shit. I’ve been avoiding Micah since we got in a huge fight two weeks ago.
Between Becky’s accusations, her skeevy boyfriend’s come-ons and Micah freaking out, I just don’t have the energy to deal with his shit.
“Who’s that?” Lana asks and with a sigh, I shove my phone between my thighs.
“Micah.”
“Oh, he’s been a total dick since you iced him out,” Lana says.
“I didn’t ice him out. I got tired of fighting about the same damn shit,” I say and when I spy her shaking her head from the corner of my eye I turn to her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It's not nothing. What?”
The corner of her lip lifts and she says, “You’ve changed, Delaney. You don’t hang out anymore. We hardly ever see you and when we do, you’re bitchy and tired. You won’t talk to anyone, and poor Micah doesn’t know how to deal with that.”
“Poor Micah? He did this shit to himself. Really, Lana? He called me a whore,” I say, slashing my hand through the air.
I know I’ve been distant, lost in my thoughts or avoiding the group but he should have taken my side. He should have believed me.
Instead, we fought about it for two fucking weeks before I stopped responding to his calls and texts.
“Okay, that was so not cool but what about the rest? Where have you been Delaney because it's not with us. Don’t you think Micah has a reason to be suspicious when suddenly, you’re too cool to hang?”
She has a point. I have been avoiding everyone but it’s not because I’m cheating on Micah, or I don’t like my friends.
I don’t know how to tell them the truth. I don’t even want it to be the truth.
Besides, I’m grieving and if someone would just look at me and ask me if I’m alright, they’d know that I’m not.
Instead, I get the same damn wide-eyed stares before they look away and ignore the thousand-pound elephant in the room.
Even Micah struggles with how to treat me. Although I almost prefer his awkward silence because after dating for two years, we spend fifty percent of that time fighting and most of that because Micah acts like a jealous dick.
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you found some hot guy to get it on with, but…” she says.
Inexplicably images of Draven’s brother, Maddox pass over my vision and I turn away, biting my lip.
This is one of the reasons I need to let Micah go because one look at Maddox and I can’t remember why Micah was so damn exciting.
I barely know the hot biker but my skin tingles at the thought of getting to know him, even if I have zero chance with a guy like that.
Thankfully, we pull up to Celina’s house and I’m given a reprieve from Lana’s questioning, but I know as soon as I walk through that door, Micah will be all over me.
This will go one of two ways…he’ll either apologize and promise to never do it again or start in on how I’m a whore fucking all the guys except him.
It’s a mindfuck, either way.
Lana walks ahead, while I slow and stare at the door, dread, once more pooling in my bones.
I know it’s a shitty thing to do and Lana’s right but have any of them reached out to ask if I’m, okay? Nope.
I’m walking a tightrope these days. Between school, work and living in a broken-down trailer with a drunken slob, my capacity to act normally is gone.
That’s only the beginning of the shit that swirls through my life on any given day. Just because I’m not home doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about my mom and what might be happening that I can’t prevent.
Meanwhile, my friends want to know why I skipped the last game. If they only knew…
Celina’s home sits on an acre of property with beautiful old trees lining the drive. Her dad is a corporate bigwig who’s almost always out of town. Her mom tends to hide away in one of the wings of the house which means Celina has carte blanche to do whatever she wants.
At the door, I exhale slowly and paste a smile on my face before pushing it open and following the music.
Passing through a large living room with white suede couches and paintings of tigers in the wild, and a beautiful chandelier casting beams of light onto the creamy tile floors, I look up from my musings when Micah says, “Babe.”
With a mental groan, I meet his deep blue gaze and say, “Hey.”
“Hey.” His mouth quirks into a cute smile and I ease because this is fun Micah, as opposed to the bitter, jealous version.