Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
DALLAS
I can’t help but chuckle when I see Haven looking at the excessive amount of food that’s spread out on the counter before us. After we finally came out of the bedroom, we were starving, so I decided to DoorDash anything and everything she loves. Chinese food. Pizza. Crumbl Cookies.
All the shit us athletes aren’t supposed to have but she deserves.
The softball team may not be in their regular season yet, but her coach would still have my ass if she saw everything I ordered.
But the girl works out hard enough to deserve an indulgence.
Besides, with the way her eyes are lighting up right now, I can tell she’s loving it. And that makes it all worth it to me.
“You even got my favorite cookies?” she gushes. “Dear God, I don’t know if I should kiss you or smack you because when it comes to those things, I have no will power at all.”
“Those cookies are so overrated,” I say honestly, cutting up my chicken and dunking a piece into honey mustard.
She looks like she might actually punch me now, and I know it’s because she takes her love for Crumbl Cookies seriously but I just shit on them.
“First of all, those are fighting words. The cookies are the freaking bomb.” She points her fork at me. “Second, you are so lame.” She scoffs at me, piling some more veggie lo mein and orange chicken onto her plate. “Over there, eating your grilled chicken and veggies.”
I look down at my plate and try not to show my disappointment.
I would love to eat everything I ordered, but not only is it football season, it’s also game week.
So I need to be on my best behavior. Coach has all his players on a strict diet right now, and I’m not going to go behind his back and fuck that up.
Besides, I’ll have my sweet treat later …
“Yeah, well, tell that to your dad during game week, babe,” I drawl, amusement filling my face. “Besides, maybe I’ll have my second meal later, and it won’t be this.” I point to my plate. “It’ll be something much sweeter, and hopefully I’ll get it while you’re sitting on my face.”
My words send a shiver down her spine, and she swallows her mouthful of food roughly, making me fight a grin.
“You know, we need to make sure that we clean up every bit of our mess before your parents come home.” She twirls her fork in the noodles. “We’ve sort of taken their house over lately.”
“Yeah, I guess we have,” I mutter, knowing that if I had it my way, we would just stay here until Tabor turns up.
It seems much safer than the damn Nest or Tower.
“Hurry up and eat so we can go watch one of your shitty chick flicks,” I say, wanting to change the subject because I know we’re supposed to stay at the athletic houses.
But fuck, right now it just doesn’t seem super safe even though I know I’m being overkill.
I don’t need to tell her twice because she’s one of the fastest eaters I know. Always has been, too. And before long, she’s stuffing way too much in her mouth. I just watch with a stupid grin on my face.
That’s my girl.
While she works on finding something on TV, Haven flashes me a side-eye.
“You should be studying, you know. Don’t you have a test coming up?”
We worked on my assignments earlier and reviewed some of the material that will be on the test, but I was over it for the day. I can only focus for so long and then I’m checked out.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure any amount of studying for that will help me,” I mumble, yawning. “Just gonna hope for the best.”
She’s silent for a moment, and I’m thrilled because maybe that means she’s dropped it. I appreciate her tutoring me—it’s helped me so much. But sometimes, I just want to hang out with my girlfriend.
Dropping the remote, she moves her legs under herself and turns to face me. Her expression becomes nervous, and she chews on her lip slightly before opening her mouth.
“Dallas …” She says my name almost as a whisper, a long pause following it. “Have you ever had any sort of testing done?” She grows nervous, shifting around slightly. “Testing to see if, like, maybe there’s something that’s stumping you up on schoolwork?”
An awkward smile flashes on my face as I fight the urge to become instantly angry.
“Like to test if I’m stupid you mean?” I challenge, unable to keep the frustration from my words. “No, Haven, probably don’t need a test for that,” I bite back, a sharpness in my tone I’ve rarely used with her.
“That’s not what I’m saying!” she throws back quickly, putting her hand on mine.
“I mean, there are a lot of factors that could play into why things are so hard. Dyslexia being one of them. You are so, so smart. You think outside the box. But, Dallas, if something like dyslexia is stumping you, there are so many ways to help it.” Her hand pats mine.
“We’d just need to work on getting a diagnosis. ”
I fill with anger in a record time. My face is burning. My whole body feels hot.
“Just drop it, would you?” I snap, my entire body becoming tense.
I look away from her, though I still feel her gaze on the side of my face. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she whispers, pulling her hand away. “I just wanted to help.”
“Help by tutoring me like you’re supposed to then,” I say, snapping my eyes back to her. “Not trying to play physiatrist and give me some stupid fucking diagnosis that doesn’t mean shit.”
I know I’m being a dick. I know I’m taking it too far. But fucking hell, I hate this conversation right now. Mostly, I hate who I’m having it with.
“Okay then,” she mumbles, bringing her attention to the screen. Her body language becomes cold.
When a movie begins—another with Kate Hudson, no doubt—I scoot off the couch. “I’m going to bed,” I tell her, and this time, she doesn’t even glance my way. “It’s been a long day.”
“Night,” is the only word she returns, never making eye contact—not once. I should lean down and kiss her. I should apologize too.
Instead, I walk to my room, leaving her … all alone.
I stare at the ceiling fan, hating myself for being such a dick when all Haven was trying to do was help.
I hate being dumb. I hate feeling like my brain doesn’t fucking work.
But most of all, I hate that the woman I love, the one I want to look at me like I’m good enough for her, said it out loud … and triggered some monster inside me.
The monster I’ve long known was in there but have always tried to fight from coming out. Mostly because I’m scared of it. I’m scared of it overtaking me.
The longer I sat beside her, trying to act like everything was fine and we could just watch some chick flick she chose, the angrier I became, and I needed to walk away before I snapped at her again.
Because despite how pissed off she made me, I’m more pissed at myself that I couldn’t just keep myself in check.
I hate that I hurt her feelings. I know I did because when she’s embarrassed or sad, she just acts bitchy.
Which is how she acted when I went to bed, not even looking up at me.
I know she’s trying to help. And I know she wants the best for me, but something about this shit makes me a dick. I can’t stand talking about it, and I hate feeling exposed and bare.
I should walk out into the living room, apologize, then carry her into bed and show her how sorry I am for being an asshole. But I can’t bring myself to do that because right now. I can’t face her. But I also can’t fall asleep.
I know if I stare at this fan long enough though, eventually, I’ll pass out. Preferably before she comes to bed and I have to deal with this mess I created.
Part of me always kept her at arm’s length because I know she’s too good for me, and I never wanted her to let me in only for me to hurt her.
But then there’s another part of me—maybe an even bigger one.
And that’s the part that’s scared that if I did let her in, she’d realize that I’m not worthy of her love, and she’d leave me.
Now, lying here, that’s my biggest fear. And yet, I’m too fucked up to walk into the living room and tell her I’m sorry.
The walk home might seem long to some kids, but for me, it isn’t long enough. I could walk for days, but knowing what’s waiting for me at the end of it, it still wouldn’t be long enough.
After getting a twenty-one percent on my reading test earlier—twenty-freaking-one—my teacher pulled me aside and said she had gotten in touch with my father, and that together, she hopes they could work to get me some help.
She doesn’t realize what she’s done, but I do.
She looked so excited earlier—proud because she could never get ahold of my parents.
My dad is only around when he comes home after days and weeks of being off doing drugs with his so-called friends, and my mom …
well, she’s practically a permanent fixture in her bed these days.
It may seem sad to my teachers when they can’t reach my parents. To me, it’s always been a blessing.
Until today.
There are a lot of things that my dad will beat the crap out of me for.
Most of which are things I can’t control because even breathing seems to piss him off the past six or so months.
But the man has always hated how stupid I am.
And now that he knows I got a terrible test score, I can’t imagine how angry he’s going to be.
I walk extra slow, knowing that any other day, it wouldn’t matter if I went home at all—no one would notice or care.
But today? He’ll be waiting for me. And if I don’t go home, he’ll just take it out on my mother.
Even though she seems numb to it now, I can’t stand watching him hurt her.
Because she’s a woman, and a man should never lay a finger on a woman.
Then again, my father is no man. I’m old enough to know that.
Walking down the long gravel driveway, I see my father’s old truck, and my stomach sinks. I knew he’d be here, but I guess there was a tiny part of me that hoped I was wrong.