Chapter 3 #2
I don’t say it out loud, but I kind of hope she’s right.
She gives me an extra tight squeeze before I get off the bus, and as I walk home, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.
I’m just about to check it when I spot the motorcycle parked outside our house.
Not even knowing that Valeri is texting me is enough to stop the dread from forming in the pit of my stomach.
If Lyle is here at six in the morning that can only mean one thing—he and my dad have been drinking all night again.
As quiet as I can, I slip inside and tiptoe through the kitchen, biting back a groan at the empty beer cans lining the counter. When I step into the living room, I’m not surprised to see my dad passed out in the recliner, but I’m not expecting Lyle to still be awake.
“Morning, Evie,” he slurs, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
He’s sitting on the couch, arms draped along the back, knees spread wide, and pot belly hanging over his pants.
The picture is complete when he lets out a belch and then gives me a smile.
I ignore him and turn to go upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, not stopping until I’m in my room and shutting the door.
Dropping my bag, I let out a sigh and pull out my phone, eager to see what Valeri texted. I’m just about to read it when my door is thrown open with a bang.
“What the hell?” I yell, quickly backing out of my messages.
“Who are you texting?” Lyle’s filling my entire doorway with his mass, bracing his hands on the doorframe and looking just as pissed off as usual. He takes a step towards me, fully entering my room, filling me with a mixture of fear and anger. “Let me see your phone.”
He holds out his hand like I’m just going to give it to him. I put my phone back in my pocket and try not to show how anxious he’s making me.
“I’m not giving you my phone, Lyle, and I wasn’t texting anyone.”
“You better not have a boyfriend, Evie. You know your dad wouldn’t like that.”
“I’m almost twenty-one,” I remind him.
His dark eyes narrow as he comes closer, forcing me to back up into a corner. He’s close enough for me to smell his foul breath—the perfect mix of beer, chewing tobacco, and unwashed mouth.
“Don’t get sassy with me, little girl. Your dad and I have an understanding, and I’ve been patient long enough.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, even though I’m terrified I already know what he’s hinting at.
“It means that he told me I could have you once you were old enough.” His eyes run over me as his lips curl up in a disgusting leer of a smile.
“You look pretty damn ripe to me, honey.” He lets out a small laugh.
“Although it is hard to tell with all the baggy clothes you wear. Why don’t you take those coveralls off and let me have a good look at what I’ve been waiting so long for? ”
I push him as hard as I can and run from the room, locking myself in the bathroom across the hall. He chases after me, pounding on the door.
“Open the damn door, Evie!”
“Just leave, Lyle,” I yell back. “I don’t care what my dad told you. I’m not yours.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Not yet, sweetheart, but you will be.”
He bangs his fist against the door hard enough to make me jump back before walking off with a laugh.
I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and letting my forehead rest on my knees.
I don’t cry. I don’t wish my life was different.
I gave up on that fairytale long before I even hit my teenage years.
I just sit, more numb than anything else, and debate whether or not it’s safe to bolt back to my room.
The buzz of my phone has me pulling it from my pocket and lifting my head.
Valeri’s been busy. I swipe up so I can read the messages from the beginning.
I’m really sorry, Evie. I’m not sure what happened, but I didn’t mean to upset you. I really did just want to take you to breakfast.
A few minutes later, he sent: Please answer me so I at least know you’re okay.
And then: I really fucked this up. I’m sorry.
And the last message, the one that has me sucking in a quick breath says, The truth is that I can’t stop thinking about you. I would really love to see you again. Can I please take you out? We can go anywhere or do whatever you want. I just really want to see you again.
My chest constricts at his words, making me feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack, because god do I want to say yes.
With my passed-out father downstairs and his drunk, pervy friend, all I can think about is how badly I want to go out and for one fucking night forget how lousy my life is.
It’s a dangerous game, though, one that could easily end with me being broken-hearted and more depressed than ever.
I’m still not sure what to do, but it makes me feel like shit to know that he’s worrying about this.
I’m fine, Valeri. I’m sorry I freaked out.
His response is immediate, and I love that he doesn’t make me wait. I shouldn’t have ambushed you outside your work. Not my smoothest moment.
No, it was very sweet of you. I shouldn’t have run off like an idiot.
You’re not an idiot. Can we try this again? Maybe breakfast after your shift tomorrow?
I think about it and decide that breakfast is the most harmless option. My dad won’t be awake, and I can always say I had to work late and missed the bus if he does actually wake up and notice I’m not back at my usual time.
A huge smile spreads across my face while I type out I’d love that.
Get some sleep, Evie. I’ll be there to get you tomorrow morning. ;)
I try not to read too much into that winky face.
I’ve never texted a guy, and I’ve sure as hell never flirted before.
I’m in so far over my head that it’s not even funny.
There’s going to be no hiding how damn awkward I am around him.
Pushing that worry aside, I do what I do best and stand up so I can go escape into sleep.
I press my ear against the door and wait several minutes until I’m sure Lyle isn’t waiting in the hallway for me.
Peeking out, as soon as I see it’s clear, I bolt into my room and lock my door.
I put my phone on the nightstand to charge, slip out of my coveralls, take off my glasses, and then burrow under the blankets.
Everything else will just have to wait while I slip into the familiar blackness and disappear.
When I wake eight hours later, the first thing I do is grab my glasses and check my phone.
There aren’t any new messages, and the disappointment is quick and sharp, and it scares the hell out of me.
I just met him, and I barely know him. I refuse to go crazy over the gorgeous man who’s showing me attention.
My life is pathetic enough. I’m not going to add to it by becoming super needy and dependent.
My growling stomach reminds me that it’s been way too long since I’ve eaten.
After making sure Lyle is gone, I make a quick stop at the bathroom and then head downstairs to fix something to eat.
My dad is sprawled out in his recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.
I really hate that I share DNA with this man.
Ignoring him, I walk into the kitchen and start gathering everything I need to make a sandwich.
“Make me one too,” he hollers out, still flipping through the channels.
I bite back my smartass comment and instead grab a second plate. When I hand it to him, he takes it without so much as a thank you, never taking his eyes off the action movie he’s watching. When I don’t move, he gives me an annoyed look.
“What?”
“Lyle forced his way into my bedroom,” I tell him.
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” he mutters, turning his eyes back to the TV.
“He said that you two have an arrangement, that you promised me to him. What the hell did you tell him, Dad?”
“Don’t you use that tone with me,” he growls, setting his sandwich down so he can point his finger at me. I know I’m treading on dangerous ground, but I’m not some piece of fucking cattle that he can sell off to the highest bidder.
“What did he mean?” I ask again, working to keep my tone relaxed.
“He likes you.” He gives a shrug and relaxes back into the chair.
“It’s not like anyone else is showing any interest, and let’s face it, Evie, a girl like you isn’t going to have boys knocking down the door.
Lyle’s a good choice for you, and he promised me he won’t ever take you from me.
He lives so close that you can still come and take care of things over here after work. ”
It takes me several seconds before I can speak, and when I do, I can hear the quiver in my voice. It has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the rage that’s boiling right beneath the surface.
“So you and Lyle came up with this plan for my future, a plan where I’ll be married to your best friend, who I think is disgusting by the way, and then I can take care of him and you and go to work? That’s the future you see for me?”
His eyes harden when they meet mine. “What the fuck else are you going to do?”
“I could meet someone,” I say before I can think better of it. “I could fall in love and marry and get the hell out of this dump.”
In a second, he’s up, spilling the plate on the floor and giving me a sharp smack to the face that barely misses breaking my glasses before fisting my hair and holding me still. Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Have you met someone?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I better not find out that you’re planning on running off with some strange man like a little whore, Evie.”
“I’m not.” I try to get out of his grip, but he just pulls my hair harder, making me hiss in pain.
The whole side of my face stings, but I force myself to remain still.
“I haven’t met anyone. I was just saying that maybe there’s another option besides me ending up with Lyle. I don’t want to be with him.”