“I’ll go,” I interrupt.
If and when he texts that group chat, Cas will see it. She willdefinitelyshow up. And the idea of her seeing Atticus while I’m not around, potentially earning his forgiveness, makes something ugly and envious spread through my chest.
Even if he hates me for it, I won’t let Cas see him alone. I just can’t.
“Good to hear,” Julian tells me, and there’s something knowing and sympathetic in his voice that makes me want to vomit.
I pull out his dipstick and show him his new, full, clean oil.
“All done,” I say, returning it to the tank and shutting his hood. “You’re good to go.”
“Thanks, man.” Julian hops down from the table, jiggling his keys. “And hey, I’m happy you’re coming. I’ve, uh, missed everyone. With Susie and Landon a state away, you guys are the closest friends I’ve got.”
Guilt and shame fill my body as I stare into his kind brown eyes, my hands trembling at my sides.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage.
Julian heads toward the driver’s side of his truck before he stops, speaking to me without ever turning around. “You guys aren’t ignoring me because of Atty, right? I know that Cassie and I had some brief flirting going on, and I know it was probably a shock to catch me with another man, but I… I never intended to hurt anyone. I wasn’t trying to use her.”
The irony of his statement, the cruel reality of it, is sickening. I don’t know how to explain to him that it wasn’t his doing that ruined our friendship, but rather thatwewere usinghim.
“No,” I try to assure him. “We’ve just been… busy.”
“Right,” he murmurs, shoulders sagging. “Hopefully everyone can get a little unbusy then.”
With that, he gets into his truck, gives me a small wave, and drives away.
I collapse into bed after my second shower of the day, my legs aching from the intense workout I completed about an hour ago.
It feels nice to hurt, to ache, somewhere other than my heart.
Before I left work, Uncle Danny stopped me and asked how Mom is doing, so of course I had to lie. I had to tell him that she’s fine, just being her normal self.
I didn’t mention that she’s still a lazy drunk. I didn’t share that she takes a good chunk of the paychecks he hands me or that she still brings around that fuckwad who put his hands on me.
But Uncle Danny bought it—or at least I think he did—and I scurried off to the gym.
Now, as I lay on my full-sized mattress in the dark, I kind of regret that lie. Maybe I should tell him. Not that he’d help me; I’m a grown adult now, and he has responsibilities of his own. But it might be nice to have someone to talk to about it. Someone who personally knows Mom…
But then I remember how pathetic it makes me to still be here, picking up after her, and I decide against it once more.
Lying is the answer as of now.
I can hear Mom in the living room. The loud music and constant chatter are clear indicators of another party; an indicator I don’t need since they’d already begun by the time I returned from the gym.
In the morning I’ll have another mess to clean, and she’ll swipe more cash from me. It’s like clockwork.
I feel worn down. I feel hopeless. It doesn’t matter how much fulfillment my job gives me when going home torments me all the same. My life is a never-ending series of misery and regret, and there’s not much I can do to stop it.
Well, not much outside of abandoning my mother and moving towns. So I’ll live in this bubble of hurt until she passes or until I’m saved by someone more capable than me. Not that I’m truly expecting that to happen.
The room around me is stifling tonight—it’s been getting hotter and hotter the more spring arrives. I guess I was too tired to notice it last year.
I toss and turn, throwing my comforter off of my heated skin.
I want to sleep, but I can’t seem to slip off. I feel… well, I feel as if someone is watching me.
The hair on my arms is raising, and I keep searching around my empty bedroom in hopes that I’ll catch the culprit. But I’m just Cameron, and I’m not interesting enough for someone to break in, let alone watch me lie in bed.
