I followed Jackson back to the house, trying to keep up with his quick stride. “Just tell me, I won’t get upset. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
“He . . . He was just talking about how good you looked, and said that he was thinking about asking you out,” Jackson finally said.
My lips parted and I furrowed my eyebrows. “And that’s bad because . . . ?”
“Because he was an asshole!” Jackson’s voice started to rise. “And you deserve better than that.”
“Okaaay,” I said. “I guess, thanks again?”
“Yeah,” Jackson said with a slight nod. “That’s what friends do.”They protect each other.If Jackson thought keeping Brian away from me was protecting me, then I trusted his judgment.
I gave him another nod, wondering why it bothered him so much. But I didn’t question him anymore. I was just happy to finally leave the party.
Chapter 20
BEFORE
December, Twelve years ago
Mr. and Mrs. Delvecchio let me spend the night on Christmas Eve this year since Peter went to go see our mom again. This would be my third Christmas with the Delvecchios, but the first time I ever woke up with them on Christmas morning.
I slept in Julie’s old room, and in the morning, I padded my way down to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. When I entered the kitchen, Marie was making a pot of coffee and sniffling. At first I thought she was blowing her nose, until I got closer and realized she was crying.
I stopped in my tracks, and when she noticed me, she plastered on a smile, wiping at her eyes.
“Good morning, honey. How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good.” I put my hair behind my ears nervously. “Are you okay?”
Her smile got wobbly, and her eyes glassy. “Oh, just emotional that my kids are growing up. I miss Sam and Julie. I always braid Julie’s hair on Christmas morning, and she’s not here for me to do it this year.”
Her coffee finished brewing, and she turned around to fill a mug. I grabbed the orange juice from the fridge, and she handed me a glass to fill. I leaned back against the counter as I took a sip.
“You can braid my hair if you want,” I said with a shrug. My mom had never braided my hair—I didn’t even know if she knew how. Nobody had ever even taught me how to do a simple braid before; just last night I was about to watch a tutorial to learn how to do Jackson’s.
Marie smiled. “Yeah?”
I nodded, feeling bashful over how excited I was about the thought of my hair in two French braids.
She guided me to the family room, where she sat on the couch with me on the floor in front of her, my body between her legs. She ran her fingers through my hair to untangle the knots, then divided it into two sections, putting one side over my shoulder to separate it.
“You have such beautiful long hair, Addie,” Marie said as she grabbed three strands and started the process.
“Thank you.” My mom and Peter had brown hair, so I assumed I got my white-blonde hair from my dad. I didn’t even know his name, or what nationality he was. I knew I was half Italian from my mom’s side, but I would never know what the other half was.
I hadn’t seen my mom since I was fourteen, and she had never mothered me like this even when she was here. She didn’t do the things Marie did with her children. She’d never given me the type of attention this family gave me. For the first time since my mom left, I realized how shitty of a mom she had been, and how unfair it was. Did she even love me? Mr. and Mrs. Delvecchio showed me more affection than my own mom ever did.
When Marie finished braiding my hair she asked, “What do you think?”
I started to cry—I couldn’t help it. How had my mom never embraced me like this? I put my hands over my face to hide my tears, trying to control the sobs.
“Oh Addie . . . What’s wrong, honey?”
Being called honey just sent me over the edge, and I couldn’t hold back the full-on sobs, my entire being shaking with each cry. Marie pulled me up from the ground and right into her lap, my face buried under her chin. She wrapped her arms around me and I held onto her like I was a child. I would be seventeen in just two months, but I was crying like a fucking baby.
“My mom never did anything like that for me.” I didn’t even know if Marie could understand me with how watery my voice sounded. “I barely even have a mom; I don’t even think she loves me.” It was so easy for Mom to leave me, to move away with her boyfriend and abandon me and Peter.
Marie kissed the top of my head, pulling me closer to her chest. Her voice was serious when she said, “Addie, you are such a special girl. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand in this life, but you are growing into such a lovely person.”
