Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Rory
I hurry across campus from one class to the next, a hot tea clasped in my hands because I’m trying to cut back on my amount of coffee. Only, this chai tea stuff tastes like shit and I’ll end up buying coffee anyway. Honestly, you must be related to Satan to like the stuff.
I toss the offending cup into a trashcan I pass by before entering the brick structure my psychology class is housed in. It’s my favorite of all my classes. I’ve always loved exploring the human psyche. What makes people tick, make certain choices, how our personalities can be determined by our upbringing. All of it is fascinating to me.
Opening the door, I walk down the stairs, sliding into my usual seat by a girl named Julie. She’s already seated, laptop up and ready on a new blank document to take notes. I’m not envious at all of the coffee by her side.
Actually I totally am, so much so I’m tempted to steal it, but I refuse to be that much of a coffee fiend.
Lowering my backpack to the ground, I pull my own laptop out so I’ll be prepared for the extensive note taking Professor Simmons expects of us. It’s not that I mind note taking, but he speaks so quickly that I have to type inhumanly fast to keep up. By the end of the lecture my fingers are always left sore and slightly swollen around the knuckles. I wish I was exaggerating.
I flash a smile at Connor when he sits down beside me. It’s funny to me despite the lack of assigned seating we always end up in the same seats.
“No coffee today?” he asks in a sleep-ridden voice. His hair is a mess like he did, in fact, roll out of bed before rushing here.
“Thought I’d try tea.” I stick out my tongue and roll my eyes for good measure.
He chuckles. “Big mistake, I take it?”
“You have no idea.”
Professor Simmons enters the room, shuffles some papers, and gets straight to his lecture.
My fingers fly across the keyboard as he speaks, not slowing until he utters the one word I’m not prepared to hear.
Suicide .
My fingers stop all together, my breath held in my throat when my lungs refuse to cooperate.
Over the years, I’ve learned I can’t avoid the topic of suicide. Whether it’s referenced on TV, in a book, or any other number of ways. Despite that, sometimes, like now, it hits me harder than other times. Taking me back to eight-years-old when my whole life was forever changed because of that word.
Professor Simmons keeps talking, but I don’t hear him, not over the rush of blood roaring like an ocean in my ears.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!”
“…Daddy?”
“DADDY! NO!”
I grab my stuff, my laptop under my arm, and run from the classroom. Heads turn my way and I hear the professor tell everyone to get back to work.
Bursting through the doors, I inhale the first lungful of air I’ve taken since he uttered that word.
Running down the hall, I stop when I reach the end, leaning against the wall since my body is suddenly too heavy to hold up.
Coming home from school, armed with my A+ project in hand, I’d been so excited to show my father. Ramsey Abbott was known as a Senator by most people, but to me he was just Daddy.
Until that day.
When he hung himself from a beam in our family room.
At first I didn’t understand what I saw, but by the time it registered in my child brain it was too late to unsee. My mom came in behind me, her scream shrill at the sight of his limp dangling body.
Sometimes I can still smell the awful scent of human bile permeating the room.
“Hazel! Stay outside,” she’d screamed, grabbing me by the shoulders and ushering me back out. “Take your sister!”
Everything happened in a flurry then, people coming in and out of the house, other politicians showing up, and no one seemed to understand why a man as beloved as my father would take his own life.
That is until a week later, during his funeral no less, the news leaked the story of the century all about how my father was taking bribes and covering up dirty crimes.
Senator Ramsey Abbott ceased being a good person in the eyes of anyone that day.
We lost everything.
The house, the cars, every cent.
We were the ones that paid for his crimes.
That day, too, was the last day my mother ever cried. After that, she just stopped caring.
It’s funny too, considering the corruption that runs deep in politics that my father was singled out. I guess the difference is he got caught.
A tear drips off my chin, shocking me back into reality. I hate crying. My mom fed on my tears, said it made me weak. I guess since she never cried anymore that made her the strong one.
I hate that her words get to me even now. She’s states away, still in Florida, doing God knows what to keep a roof over her head. As much as I want to say I don’t care, I wish that were true. All these years a small granule inside of me, as minuscule as a grain of sand, has loved her despite her flaws and hoped she’d get her life back on track for Hazel and me.
She never has and I know deep down she never will.
After my father’s betrayal, she couldn’t cope, spiraling out of control.
I know she truly loved him, and his suicide hurt her like a gaping wound, but it was the loss of the money that drove her mad.
I’ve always vowed to myself to never let money become such a priority in my life. I want enough to own a house, put food on the table, and cover other necessities. As long as I have that I’ll be happy.
“What are you doing sniveling in the hallway? Princesses do seem to cry in all those Disney movies. Very woe-is-me-esque if you ask me.”
I look up to see Mascen strolling down the hall, jeans hugging his narrow waist and thick thighs, a heather gray t-shirt molded to his muscular torso, and that fucking baseball cap on backwards.
A baseball cap should not be so sexy.
“What do you want, Wade?” I growl out, bending down to put my laptop in my bag. I try to inconspicuously dry my tears, but I know he sees. Mascen Wade seems to see everything. His boots come to a stop inches from my backpack, the heat of his body managing to warm the space around us.
“I was just passing by and saw you crying. It’s not my fault you’re drawing attention to yourself.”
I wrinkle my nose, standing up straight. “If you’re only here to insult me, go away. I’m not in the mood to trade barbs with you.”
He lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “Oh, but it’s so much fun.” His lip curls in distaste as he continues to stand there.
I huff out a breath and toss my backpack over my shoulder. He won’t move, so I’m forced to bump into him as I pass.
He falls into step beside me, causing me to stifle a groan. I want to fall apart in quiet solitude. The last person I want to witness me crumble is Mascen.
Why does he have to be here? Campus is huge, couldn’t he be anywhere else?
“Can you go away?” I hiss out, not bothering to look over at him.
“I’m headed this way, Princess. You were the one crying. Excuse me for being a gentleman and stopping to console you.”
My steps freeze. When he realizes I’m no longer beside him, he turns around, walking back to stand in front of me.
“You call that being a gentleman?” I shake my head rapidly back and forth. “Any time we’ve spoken pretty much every word out of your mouth is an insult.” Lifting my chin, I glare haughtily up at him. “What happened to the kind, sweet boy I knew growing up? That boy is nothing like the person standing in front of me.” Moving in closer to him, our chests only a centimeter apart, I say, “How would your mom feel if she knew how you talk to me?”
His jaw clenches, the muscle twitching. His lips pinch together while his dark brows draw in. Even glaring at me like he wants to set me on fire, Mascen Wade is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
He ducks his head and my breath catches when his lips press right against my ear. The cloying scent of cigarettes lingers on his skin, masking his normal aroma. “Life happened. You should know that better than anyone.” Straightening, he takes a step back. “Dry your tears, Princess. Whatever it is, it’s not worth crying over.”
With those parting words, he turns, leaving me alone in the hall as he descends the stairs.
His final words echo behind him, and for a moment, in those sparkling gray eyes, I saw the boy I used to know. Not the one I know could break my heart so easily if I don’t stay away.