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I haven’t seen Allie angry really. I’ve seen her want to run, or pick a fight. But I’ve never seen her pissed like this. Her little hands fisted at her side. Her chin held high and her eyes narrowed. It’s sweet of her, but I wish it weren’t because of me.
“I’m sure,” my mother says and then pulls out another cigarette. She lights it and adds, “If you’re here for money, Rick didn’t leave anything to you.”
My body tightens and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. It fucking hurts. I can’t deny it.
I don’t know why what she said pains me even more. Not that Rick didn’t give me anything, but that she’d think I’d come back here looking for a handout.
Then again, money’s the only thing that ever mattered to her.
“He’s not going to do anything with his life, so you should really consider your other options,” my mother tells Allie. She nods her head condescendingly as she speaks to Allie and doesn’t even bother to look at me.
“What a bitch,” Allie says with a high-pitched voice, looking my mother directly in the eye. “You didn’t tell me she was this much of an asshole.” She turns her head to look at me with disbelief and then seems to check her anger when I don’t respond.
“Your son’s a good man and I have no clue how he got lucky enough to get away from you.”
My mother laughs. “Aww, sweetheart, I hope you enjoy getting your heart broken.”
Allie opens her mouth again, and her face is scrunched up as she bites her tongue. She’s letting my mother get the best of her.
The difference between these women is simple. Allie cares; my mother doesn’t.
I wrap one arm around Allie’s waist and pull her in close to me, letting her ass press against my upper thigh and cut her off.
“Like I said, just wanted to give you my condolences.”
Allie peeks up at me with a bewildered look. “Let’s go,” I tell her softly, not bothering to tell my mother goodbye.
ALLISON
“Are you angry with me?” I ask Dean and then try to swallow. But I can’t. There’s a spiked lump in the back of my throat that won’t go away.
I know I’m a bitch. I’ll be the first to admit it.
I like to hate people before they can hate me. I’ll call them out, but I call myself out on my own shit. I know it doesn’t make it right, though.
“I didn’t mean to upset you when I called your mother a bitch… or an asshole. Whatever the hell I said to her.” Even as I give him the apology, I feel awkward and like I’ve done him a disservice. He wanted to make things right with her and I think I just made things even worse. I don’t even remember what all I said.
I fidget with my thumbs nervously as I wait for Dean to look at me. I feel awful. “I should have just been quiet,” I tell him, and my voice cracks a little.
“You’re fine,” he says and lifts the turn signal lever, the ticks echoing in the hollow cabin of the car.
“What I said wasn’t, though,” I say. “I’m sorry, truly.”
Dean softens. He’s been tense and stiff ever since we left. My words have been caught in the back of my throat. It’s weird feeling this overwhelming urge to be forgiven. I’m not used to it. At least not like this.
“I told you she’s a bitch,” he says as he straightens out the wheel and leans back, setting his hand on my thigh in that same spot as before. Moving his thumb in the way I like. I’m getting used to him doing that and even more, I’m growing to love the little touches. I cover his hand with mine and peek up at him.
“Next time, I’ll be quiet.”
He turns to look at me with a pinched expression. “There’s not going to be a next time.” My stomach sinks and I can’t breathe until he adds, “I’m not going back there again.”
“Well, if there’s ever any other thing …” I stumble over my words. “I won’t—”
“I like that you stood up for me,” Dean says, cutting me off.
“You like it, so you forgive me? Or you like it—”
“I like the way you handled yourself. I’m not mad at all. There’s nothing to forgive.”
