Chapter 8
Delaney
The following few days, I try to keep up with homework and stay awake at school. When I’m not knee deep in work of one form or another, I find myself wondering about Maddox.
How old is he? Does he have a girlfriend? Did he sleep with Darcy?
She hasn’t been back since she walked out the door with the two of them. Jon, our boss, was pissed when she missed her shift last night while visions of an orgy danced through my brain.
Maybe she’s still recovering? Gah.
Beyond the bedroom door, I hear Joey’s phone ring and reach for my earbuds as he answers.
Unfortunately, Joey doesn’t understand the concept of inside voices and just listening to him speak grates on my last nerve, but I pause when he says, “She’s fine.”
Is that Mom?
Stepping from the bed, I press my ear to the door, as he continues, “Don’t got much choice Helen, unless you wanna tell her?”
Tell me what?
Although I can only hear his side, I assume from the tenor of his tone that he’s annoyed. I should know, it’s how he sounds every time he speaks to me.
“You know what, Helen? Fuck you. I did this shit cuz you asked. Now I got her all up my ass and for what?”
Huh? What did she ask him to do?
He grumbles something I can’t hear, and I stand before approaching the door.
“Don’t go down that road, Helen,” Joey says, and I close my eyes. “That’s a mess no one needs. Let it alone.”
Leave what alone? Does Joey know she’s in treatment?
Does he know why? What other secrets might they be hoarding between them?
As far as I have seen, Joey doesn’t do hard drugs. Nope, he’s content with his booze and that remote fucking control.
I assume the conversation ends after that because the sound of one of his stupid games fills the void.
What were they talking about?
As far as I know the only thing they have in common is me. Shit, I hope it was something stupid because I don’t know how much more she can endure before she does something she can’t take back.
Fuck.
Wiping the burgeoning tears from my eyes, I turn back to my sandwich.
I will not cry about this again.
Later, I roll over and sit up, wiping my eyes. I must have dozed off because an hour has passed, and the remainder of my sandwich is dry and crusty.
I’ve got an hour before my next shift at the diner, and I eye my shoes on the floor before grabbing my plate and approaching the door.
On the other side, I find Joey asleep, the low rumble of his snores competing with the warble of the television.
After tiptoeing to the counter, I set my plate by the sink before pausing.
Thanks to the hours of working on my feet, I now have the beginnings of a hole in my favorite pair of shoes.
I meant to ask Joey about it earlier but forgot. Since I know he will be extra cranky when he wakes from his nap and I need something to hold off the damage now, I glance at him to make sure he’s still sleeping before searching the drawers by the sink.
For my efforts, I find everything from old mail to screws but nothing that will help with my shoes.
Next, I approach the closet. Jam packed full of shit from worn clothes to sheets that have seen better days, I run my fingers over the top shelf and come away with dust bunnies before dropping to my knees.
Surely, he has duct tape in here somewhere.
On the floor, I find an old pair of work boots and stifle a snort. To me, the old man has always been a lazy drunk, but I guess he worked at some point in his life.
I almost pass on the second shoe box in the back but change my mind and slide the lid off just as Joey sputters from the couch.
Frozen, I stare at the box until he resumes his obnoxious snoring before closing my eyes.
Why is everything a fight with this asshole? I shouldn’t be nervous about searching for tape, yet here I am.
Now that my heart is in my throat, I pull the box closer. Although I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, with Joey it’s always hard to tell what will set him off.
I can’t see much in the darkened hall, and I don’t want to risk turning on the light.
Instead, I root around inside, only to recoil when I touch something cold and angular.
What the hell?
Glancing at Joey, I carefully push the box with the gun resting inside back into place and drop the lid on top before fumbling with the closet doors.
With a last look at Joey, still snoring away, I escape to my room and drop on the bed.
Why is my deadbeat drunk dad, hiding a gun in a shoebox in the closet?
I’m still brooding over the gun the following evening.
Although I don’t think Joey knows that I found it, he bitched at me earlier about touching his things. I mean…really?
The man has zero boundaries and an annoying habit of taking my shit.
Hello…I work to pay for what I need, not the big lug who sits on his ass every day.
With a groan, I step into the bathroom and check my hair and makeup.
Draven texted earlier about a party and while I know I should stay in and study, I can’t bear the thought of staring at these four walls a second longer.
It’s weird that she wants to hang out suddenly but maybe like me, she needs an escape and as far as I know she doesn’t really have any friends.
At least not at Bay River High.
I admit, I’m also curious about Maddox and wouldn’t mind seeing him too.
After pulling my hair into a ponytail and applying makeup, I’m satisfied that I look presentable and head toward the door, passing my dad lying on the couch.
Since his eyes are closed, I don’t bother to say goodbye and I know from experience, he doesn’t care if I’m gone or when I return.
The freedom is nice but there’s a small part of me that resents his attitude because it’s clear that he doesn’t care about me…period.
“Hey,” I say as I slide in beside Draven.
Sporting her usual goth girl look, she nods and reverses out of the drive.
I’m expecting her normal surly silence and look up in surprise when she says, “What’s the deal with your dad?”
“My dad? Nothing.”
She glances at me sideways and says, “He special or something?”
Fuck me.
Hiding my grimace, I mumble, “No.”
“Hm,” she hums, and I bite my tongue.
With her, I never know what the angle is, so I’m preparing for the worst when she echoes my thoughts and says, “Whatever. Could be worse.”
“How?”
Her fingers tighten around the wheel, and she mumbles, “Surrounded by a buncha dickhead bikers with too much time on their hands.”
I don’t know exactly what she means but I can imagine. I had Peter policing my world and that was bad enough.
What would it be like to have a whole slew of overprotective men around me?
I don’t comment because she has a frown on her face. Instead, I play with my phone until it buzzes against my ass.
With a grimace, I pull it out, expecting another series of texts from Micah. I’m relieved to find a message from Lana instead.
We’re going to Pizza Haven. Where u at?
“Fuck me,” I mumble, my fingers hovering over the phone.
It’s been tense since I walked in on them gossiping about me the other night. Both hurt and angry by their insinuations, I’ve done my best to avoid further interaction.
Besides, her reaching out is just another reminder of how much my life has changed and although I appreciate it, I now know how they feel and it’s just another cutting blow in a long line of them.
Normally I’d be the one leading the charge with Micah by my side. Now I’m in a car with Draven, heading toward God knows where while my friends continue their lives without me.
To say my life has changed would be a dramatic understatement and when Draven glances at me, I close out my phone before shoving it between my thighs.
I don’t know what to say and it’s the coward's way out but I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this until later and text about being home or something.
I know I’m being an asshole but hearing from Lana reminds me of the catalyst that changed everything forever.
My friends and even Micah were a part of that old life, and the reminder brings back memories I would rather forget, such as Petey’s sweet smile when we took him with us to the beach the year before he died.
He was so excited to hang out with me. Meanwhile, I was grumpy and annoyed because with Petey there, I couldn’t relax and party.
Nope, I had to watch my brother’s every move, especially around the water. The irony isn’t lost on me, but I wish with every fiber of my being that I could go back to that day and soak in all the moments now lost to time.
My soul burns for one more day and I’d give anything to see his lopsided grin or to kiss him goodnight and feel his dainty fingers brush through my hair.
I know avoiding thinking about him doesn’t solve the problem, but I don’t know how to ease the anxiety constantly building in my lungs.
Thankfully, when we pull into the trees before the track, I escape my thoughts as Draven parks.
Before I breach the trees into the clearing though, I wipe my eyes. Unfortunately, I can’t erase the weight that presses at my chest and I wish that I had decided to stay home after all.
The acrid scent of car exhaust and campfire smoke assaults my nostrils bringing me sharply back to the present and I do my best to shove my grief away as a shadow forms over my head and Josh says, “Hey.”
Although I’m grateful to see a friendly face, there’s a part of me still sitting back in that car wishing I could change the past.
Josh doesn’t understand this part of my life though and after years of pretending, it’s easier to pull up the facade I’ve perfected.
“Hey,” I say, relieved when his puzzled frown fades.
Now is not the time to fall apart but I suspect if he asked me about it, I might do just that.
The roar of the engines vibrates in my tummy, and I smile gratefully when he says, “You’re just in time for the race.”
I definitely need a distraction and follow when he pushes his way through the crowd, pressing his hand against my back before gently pushing me to the front.
This time my heart is not in it though, and I can barely track the cars as they battle it out before me.