Chapter 12
TWELVE
NORTH
It’s no surprise to me that I run into Logan, Bailey, and Axel at the grocery store. A town this small with one big chain store, two boutique markets none of us can afford to shop at, and a Walmart at the edge of town means I tend to run into everyone I know everywhere.
And even when it’s my day off, I can’t escape the crew—not that I want to.
Bailey has officially been with us long enough not to be called a rookie anymore, but when I call out, “Yo! Rook!” she turns and smiles, then rolls her eyes.
“Fuck off, North.”
I walk over and tap my cart against hers as Logan frowns. “I thought I was the rookie.”
“You are, cupcake,” I tell him with a wink. “But Bay will always be my little Rook.”
She flips me off as she laughs. “So, what are you doing? Practicing your stalking skills? Life so boring you have to harass us on your day off?”
I peer into their cart and glower at the frozen waffles. “Bro. No.”
“I love Eggos, let me live,” Bay says, trying to cover them.
“You’re killin’ me, Rook. Fuck’s sake.” I don’t fight her though. I’d love to have enough time to meal prep for the entire week, but if I do that, I won’t have time to stock my mom’s house, and most of the time, she has to come first.
It also doesn’t help that—in spite of telling myself it’s a terrible idea—I’m grabbing stuff for Leo too.
“What are you up to?” Axel asks quietly. He’s been around longer than I have, but we don’t spend a lot of time together since he’s on the EMT side, and only the younger ones hang with us.
But he’s always been kind, and I wish I knew him better.
He has deep-set dark eyes that I swear sometimes can see straight into my soul. Does he know what a dipshit I’ve been? Does he know I’m dying inside after this afternoon with Leo? I’m probably just being paranoid, but I can’t help the feeling in my chest.
“Meal prep for my mom,” I say, then brace myself for him to call me out for not disclosing Leo’s food.
His lips lift into something like a smile. “You’re sweet.”
My entire body sags with relief. Okay. I’m just being a dipshit. I’m not walking around with a glowing neon sign attached to my forehead that says, “Fucking my nemesis.”
“Trust me, he’s not sweet,” Bay says, elbowing him. I’m pretty sure they’re related somehow, but I’m too afraid to ask how. “But he does love his mama.”
“That I do.” Sometimes that love wars with the resentment I have for her, but I deal with it.
The girls and I have no other choice.
“I should take off,” I say, pulling my cart back. “Rook, rookie, you behave for Axel.”
Bay flips me off, and Logan flushes a little but nods. He’s about as old as I am, but he seems lost, and he’s so fucking shy. I don’t totally get why. Ozzie is a lot more naive, but he’s easier to get along with.
I shoot them all a two-fingered salute off my forehead, then turn down the pasta aisle to grab a few boxes of rigatoni and to see if they have any decent gnocchi that doesn’t taste like that weird, attempted sourdough ass.
Filling the rest of my cart, I make my way up to the register, and my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. Easton’s name is on the screen, so I send him to voicemail.
That earns me an immediate text.
Easton: VMAIL? JUST SAY YOU WANT ME TO DIE!
Me: You’re starting to sound like my baby sister. And don’t capslock me, babe. I’m checking out at the market. Call you in a sec.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I smile at the cashier, who looks no older than nineteen and stoned out of his mind.
He scans everything so slowly, I fight the urge to leap behind the counter and do it myself, but instead, I busy my hands with rearranging all the cards in my wallet until he reads the total.
“Two seventy-six…and, uh…” He squints at the screen.
Sixteen cents.
Fuck me. Fuck my life. I’m going to go broke just trying to keep everyone fed. That’s all my fun money, but whatever. I’m kind of a loser anyway, and I don’t really get out much. Besides, I have a seventy-two-hour shift coming up, so that’s going to occupy all my time.
I tap my card against the reader, then try not to look at the receipt as it prints. The stoned guy shoves it into a bag, then passes me the cart, and I walk out, trying not to think about how bleak everything feels.
Off in the distance, storm clouds are gathering, and my stomach sinks. It’s a sign that it’s going to be a rough night. I’m not on duty, but there’s a good chance that if shit hits the fan, I’ll be called in.
And while I really want to enjoy my day off, I realize maybe that’ll be a good thing. At the very least, I won’t have to think about Leo for a while, and that might give me a little bit of peace.
The moment I open the door to my mom’s apartment, I know I’ve been gone too long. It smells musty and gross. There’s the sharp, pungent stench of something rotting in the sink like old spaghetti sauce and meat, and I can hear her snoring loudly from her bedroom.
A small prickle of fear races up my spine.
I trust my mom. I believe she hasn’t fallen off the wagon.
But there’s a part of me—an unhealed, angry, scarred teenager who still hates her a little bit for everything she put me through—who’s afraid she’s going to fuck all of her progress one of these days.
But I also know she’s tired because she’s sick. Her drug use over the years fucked her immune system into oblivion, and the fact that she started smoking at age thirteen and didn’t stop until last year, when pneumonia almost killed her, caused COPD.
She never quite recovered herself after my stepdad was put away. She was given the space and tools to heal in rehab, but in family therapy, we were all warned she wasn’t ever going to be the woman she was before he came along.
My sisters never knew that mom, but I did.
And it kills me a little bit to know they’ll go the rest of their lives not knowing the person she was before him.
Making my way over a few piles of unfolded laundry, I step into the kitchen and sigh. The pot of noodles on the stove is very green, and there are at least three pans that need sanitizing in the sink.
Leaving the groceries on the table, I get to work, slipping on a pair of gloves I don’t think she’s ever touched, and run the water as hot as it can go.
The cleaning is mindless, which used to be a good thing, but now all it does is give me space to think about Leo.
About the way he tasted, the way his dick felt in my hand.
The way just his presence alone made me come. And that he’s been my first everything, and I don’t think he knows it.
But it isn’t just that.
There’s also the terrifying memory of how I felt when I saw him hit the ground when he was running from me, and how it felt to lift him in my arms and carry him to his house.
And how close I’d come to kissing him again.
Last night, I woke up dreaming about what it would have been like to put my mouth on him and suck him dry. I don’t fucking need this. I don’t need a guy who wants to fuck me in spite of the fact that he can’t stand me.
I want to be loved. Or at the very least, I want to be liked. I want the person who’s lusting after me to not hate my guts while craving my dick. Not that Leo’s touched my dick, but god help me, it’s all I’ve been able to think about while jerking off over the last week and a half.
Or longer, though I’m not ready to admit that, even to myself.
Leaning over to start the dishwasher, I jolt when my phone begins to buzz, and I realize I’ve forgotten to call Easton back. I expect the call to be from him, so my eyes widen when I see Westin’s name on the screen.
“I can’t handle another emergency tonight,” I say as I answer.
She sighs. “You’re always so dramatic. Where are you right now?”
“Mom’s.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “Is it bad?”
I glance around at the laundry piles and grimace, but now that the dishes are clean, it smells nicer. “It could be worse. Is there something I should know?”
“I don’t think so. She’s been tired lately, but I think she’s having some kind of flare. Her doctor started her on new meds last week when I took her to her rheumatologist.”
Well, that’s…something, I suppose. At this point, her treatments are all for quality of life, not for cures, because there is no cure for anything she has. But knowing it’s meds and not the worst-case scenario has me breathing a little easier.
“She’s sleeping right now. After the dishes are done, I’m going to do some food prep. You want me to bring you anything?”
“Nah. We…actually.” She stops for a second. “Can I swing by? I want to talk to you about something.”
“West…”
“Please,” she begs.
I want to remind her that I have too much going on. That I have no more space in my head for someone else’s problems or another crisis. But she knows I’m not going to.
“Fine. I’ll be here a while.”
“Thanks. I’m actually like ten minutes away. See you soon.”
She hangs up before I get the chance to change my mind, which is just like her, and I shove my phone back into my pocket and start wiping down the counters and mopping the floor.
I’m halfway through the first laundry pile when the door opens, and she walks in with a very familiar man behind her. Henry smiles at me, only half his mouth lifting because after the beating he took from my stepdad, he never regained the full use of his right side.
He’s walking with crutches tonight, and a grimace from the constant pain I know he’s in, and I struggle to look at him because I fucking blame myself for this. I didn’t move fast enough when my stepdad went after him.
“Hey, North.”
I swallow down all my feelings as I drop the shirt I’m holding and stand up. I offer my left hand to him. He shifts off his crutch so he can shake it.
It is weird that they’re dating, but something bloomed between them after they reconnected, and I can see how much he loves her. I can see how their connection grew so far beyond what brought them together, and as jealous as I feel, I’m happy for them both.
“What are you guys up to?”