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Dad looks utterly bewildered as Mom roars, “Stella! Maybe let someone know before a letter comes so we can prepare.”
Ah, this is how Wes must feel. Well, fuck me sideways. “I know. I’m sorry. But I really can’t handle this right now.” And I know I should be freaking out a bit more, but honestly, I’m too worried about Wes to care that they know. They are only holding me up. But before I can even try to get out of this, my sister, my ride or die, Emery has my back.
She jumps in front of me, pointing toward my parents. Or so I think. “Asher and Ally got married in Spain!”
Oh, big fuck.
Asher’s eyes widen as Ally turns bright red. Mom and Dad both scream, “What!” at the same time as Emery takes my wrist in her hand.
With a wild look in her eye, she says, “Let’s blow this joint.”
As hysteria breaks out, we do just that.
I just hope that blowing off my parents and their endless questions won’t bite me in the ass, but do I really care?
No, I only care if Wes is okay.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wes
My phone keeps going off, but I refuse to look at it.
I feel as if I’ve completely lost control of everything. I had won against my demons in therapy, but seeing my dad, and then seeing Sandi… I am overwhelmed by all the pain they caused me. I hate that I can vividly remember the abuse. All the times I cried, begging my father to believe me. When I would run myself into the ice just so I didn’t have to go home. Or how I would lie to my coach and ask for duties around the rink. How I told my friend and he basically thought of me as a freak afterward because I was a better hockey player than him. When my dad lied to me in court to get Sandi off. The way she smiled when the case was dismissed.
All of it. Like a movie reel, playing over and over in my head.
I close my eyes as I cuddle deeper into my blanket, using it as a defense mechanism. I know it can’t protect me from anything, but under it, I feel like I’m hidden from all the demons that are doing a pretty successful job of tearing me down. I called to get an order of protection after Noelle suggested it. We had a session, but I’m so keyed up, it wasn’t successful. I basically shut down and didn’t say anything. She asked for another one tomorrow, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to sit there as she stares at me like the freak I am.
What kind of a man gets raped by his fucking stepmother? Especially someone like Sandi. I wish I could have been stronger; I wish I could have found something to hit her with—or hell, I should have called the police. But I was so scared to lose hockey or even my dad. While I did lose him, I kept my one true love. Well, hockey was my true love until Stella Brooks stepped into my life in some incredibly hot heels and rocked my world. I know she is beyond worried, and I feel awful. But at the same time, I’m so miffed at her. I get that she was trying to protect me, but at the same time, she left me vulnerable.
And that’s the last fucking thing I ever want to be again.
Though, I allowed myself to be with her. I showed all my cards to her, my whole heart. I jumped in with no holds barred whatsoever, and I don’t regret it. She’s worth it, but I know she’s probably livid I’ve ghosted her again. I know I promised I wouldn’t, but at the same time, I never thought I’d see my dad again.
What the hell was he thinking? I don’t owe them any kind of closure. Yeah, I have mine, but I want them to burn with guilt and own it. Just nowhere near me.
I throw down the remote as a new episode of Schitt’s Creek starts. I said I wouldn’t watch it without Stella, but watching it makes me feel better and as if she is with me. Sometimes I feel the David dude is Emery and Stella is Alexis, in a fashion sense kind of way. It makes me laugh, makes me happy. Though, I’m not really feeling any of those emotions right now. Right now, I feel raw.
When there is a knock at the door, I ignore it. I turn up the TV, leaning back against the couch. I close my eyes and wait for the knocking to stop. When it does, I open my eyes, but then I hear a noise at my window. I look over the back of the couch to see Emery with a knife in her hand, opening my window. My eyes widen as she pushes it up and then enters my house like she’s been breaking and entering since she was a toddler. When she flips her knife closed, she locks her eyes with mine. I’m not sure of the look on her face, but then she is coming toward me.
