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“Honey, calm down.”
“You’re trying tostealmyson. How am I supposed to be calm?” How can anyone expect me to be? I can’t wrap my head around it. Their fucked-up perspective of the situation. How they view me as the erratic, unreasonable one when John is right fucking there. “If you care about either of us, even a little bit, leave us alone. Let us be happy.”
“Some things are more important than happiness.”
See, that’s where we differ. I will never agree with that. Happiness is all I want for August—my parents have never had that same desire for me. They’re never going to get it and I’m tired of trying to force them too.
“You said none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t left home,” I say quietly, firmly, hoping to God he’s really listening because it’s the last time I’m trying. “You hate Cass because of what you’ve read online. Well, Daddy, none of this would’ve happened if John treated me and August the same way Cass does. Cass cares about us. He looks after us. He’s a good man who would never do what John has done. Whatyou’redoing. He would never hurt us like that.”
I don’t wait for a response; in all honesty, I don’t expect one. I learned a long time ago to stop expecting anything, so with a heavy heart, I walk away from the first man who broke my heart.
* * *
The boys win all their games but there’s nothing celebratory about our group as we reluctantly stroll towards the parking lot. August looks exhausted, and I bet it has very little to do with hours of exercise and everything to do with hours spent fending off his father’s ‘advice’ and his soon-to-be stepmother’s… everything. There’s nothing specifically irritating about Clare—she justis.
It’s a gift, really. The power of annoyance.
Even now, as she walks a few feet ahead, she pisses me off. Keeps glancing over her shoulder and pursing her lips at August and I, like him walking beside me, one of his hands locked with one of mine, is… God, I don’t even know. Offensive? Weird?
Out of character, sure. I can’t recall August willingly holding my hand since he hit double digits but when John’s around, he forgets he’s supposed to be too cool for it. He clings like he never grew out of that phase. Despite the situation and how much I hate why he needs such comfort, I soak it up. Because I need it too.
Swinging his arm gently, I bump his hip with mine. “How you doing, Goose?”
August shrugs. “Fine.”
“Oof.” I scrunch my nose. “Don’t let Luna hear you. That’s a dollar for thefinejar.”
He blows out a breath, just enough of a laugh to it that the anxious knot in my chest eases slightly. “This sucks. They suck.”
“It does. They do.”
“I don’t wanna go to dinner.”
“Me neither.”
“Izzy says I should fake an infectious disease or something to get out of it.”
“Babe, I could give birth right here, right now and they’d still make us go.”
A chuckle brushes the top of my head, lips soon to follow. “Maybe don’t do that.”
Letting Cass spin me around, I set my free hand on his chest, patting gently. “Don’t worry. September Lane is smart. She knows better. I think Carol’s voice scared her into my chest cavity.”
Another chuckle, against the corner of my mouth this time when Cass stoops to brush his lips there. “September?”
“That’s when she’s due.”
“Is that how you picked August?”
“I was sixteen, high as a kite, and exhausted. Of course, that’s how I picked August.”
Palming my lower back, Cass kisses me gently. “Love that logic.”
Beside us, August mutters something about public displays of affections inciting a need for therapy but there’s nothing malicious or uncomfortable in his voice when he reminds Cass, “You owe me ice cream.”
Cass smiles, warm and wide and pretty damn proud. “Pretty sure I owe you three. One for each game, right?”
Later, I’ll ream him for the sugar high he’s undoubtedly about to induce. Right now, I’m a little too entranced by that freaking dimpled smile, and grateful for the matching one it draws out in August. Besides, he’ll probably learn his lesson when the early bedtime he claims is only due to him being an athlete and has no relation to his age is challenged by an eleven-year-old climbing the walls and begging for his attention.
