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"She needed both of us, a-hole. You should've been here."
"What a
re you pissy at me for?" Corrigan asked, confused and slightly defensive.
Bryce opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and walked towards his car.
"What is he mad at me for?" Corrigan switched his confusion to me.
I shrugged and wrapped my arms around me. "He wants to blame someone."
Corrigan rolled his eyes and shot out, "He shouldn't blame me. I'm not the one who broke into your place."
I winced.
Corrigan swore. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I wasn't thinking."
I shrugged him off. With a tight grin, I said softly, "Its fine. I'm fine. I'm alive."
"Sheldon!" Bryce called from his car.
"Where are you guys going? Do you need a place to stay?" Corrigan scowled in Bryce's direction.
"I'm going to stay at his place."
"With his mother?"
He understood too.
"That's what I said, but whatever."
"Oh…okay. Well, if you need help, call me." Corrigan flashed a reassuring smile and hugged me once more. By that time, Bryce had pulled the car beside us and I smiled grimly at Corrigan as I got inside.
The ride was quiet, but I was okay with that. I wasn't up for conversation, not at that moment. At one point I shivered and Bryce quickly switched the heat on.
I fought back tears and then cursed my own weakness.
When Bryce pulled up to his house and as he parked in the garage, I asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Bryce said firmly.
At the door, he grabbed my hand, shut off the garage light and opened the door. He didn't turn the lights on inside, but led me through his family's kitchen, dining room, and down to his bedroom.
He turned the light on when he closed his bedroom door.
Bryce started to change clothes and I moved into his bathroom.
When I came back in, he stood up from his desk and passed behind me.
I slid underneath his sheets and closed my eyes. The routine was so familiar and I knew it's what I needed. I fought back tears again, but rolled over to bury my head in Bryce's pillows.
It didn't take long before I heard the bathroom door open and his light switched off. Bryce slid in beside me and tucked the sheets around us both as he flipped on his stomach to lay one arm over my waist.
I sighed and tucked my head against his shoulder just before I fell asleep.
Chapter 12
Both of us jumped awake to a slammed door.
"What the hell?" Bryce groaned and ran a tired hand over his face. When his little sister let loose with a blood-curdling scream, he sighed again and moved to the edge of the bed.
I yawned and curled on my side as I pulled the bedcovers over me again.
Bryce stood up, shirtless, in his basketball shorts and padded barefoot out the door. He banged on a door and I heard him mediating between his seven-year-old sister, Savannah, and his fourteen-year-old brother, Luca.
The two were water and oil. And their mother never helped. She either scolded, threatened, or placated. She never disciplined. That was what Bryce told me once and I'd seen enough to agree with him.
From what I could overhear, Luca was sick and vomiting in the bathroom. Savannah needed the bathroom because she felt the same. And a second later Bryce's bedroom door flew open and Savannah let loose another scream as she scuttled to an abrupt stop on her way to her older brother's bathroom.
"Mooom!"
I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head.
Savannah stayed put.
"Mom! Mom! Mom! Bryce has a girl in his bed! Bryce has a girl in his bed! It's her, mom!"
Savannah might not have liked me, but AnnaBelle Scout liked me even less. In fact, I think she hated me at times and secretly, I didn't think it was because I was tight with her son. I think she was just jealous I wasn't ladylike and I still got her son.
Bryce swept into the room, tucked Savannah underneath one arm, and removed her. He shut the door and I heard him talking on the other side.
There was silence and then Savannah screamed again, slightly muffled, "Mom! Mom! Quick, before she jumps out the window."
"Shut up!" Bryce snapped.
A second later, he walked inside and sat on the bed's edge.
"I am not hiding from your mother," I said softly, seriously.
"I know." He yawned and ran a hand through his Mohawk, which looked flat in the morning.
A knock sounded at the door.
Bryce groaned deep in his throat before he stood and opened the door.
There was AnnaBelle Scout, a shimmering brunette vision. Her glare was ominous as she stood, already prim and proper in her silk chiffon dress and perfectly manicured hairstyle.
All in all, his mother was petite, beautiful, and the perfect lady.
She never drank. She never smoked. And I really thought that she'd never had sex.
"Bryce Elliot Scout." It was all she said.
"Mom…" Bryce started, exhausted.
I huddled in the corner and glared from underneath his bedcovers.
"You know how I feel about this girl," she continued sternly. "I have resigned myself to the fact that you insist on a friendship with her, but I forbid you to further any romantic notions. You need a good girl with morals and a family upbringing that meet your standards."
"Your standards, Mom," Bryce argued as he stood and looked at his mother. "This is my life. You've already got my future mapped out, but this is my life right now."
"You're a bitch," I said softly.
AnnaBelle gasped and whirled to me. Bryce had taken the heat from me and even shifted on his feet so she wouldn't look at me. I was done with him taking the heat for me.
"Excuse me?" she asked coldly.
I sat up and knew the skimpy tank-top would enrage her further. Sweetly, I said, "You heard me."
Bryce frowned, but he didn't say anything.
"I will not tolerate disrespect in my home—"
"Then get out," I interrupted quickly and let the bedcovers fall to reveal my underwear and bare legs. I regretted not wearing a thong instead of my boxer underwear, but at least they were made of black lace.
Her eyes widened.
