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Grandma squeezed my shoulder and walked toward her house. Talking to Becca was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wasn’t a fucking coward, so I headed toward her.
“Hey,” she said softly, not making eye contact. She wore a pair of small shorts and a tank top. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, what looked like yesterday’s eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes. Becca was beautiful, even like this. She always had been, but damn, the spark was gone from her eyes now, like it had been completely snuffed out.
Rage simmered beneath my skin, boiling me from the inside. She was another casualty of my choices.
“Hey,” I finally managed to respond.
We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever loved her. Maybe that made me even more of a dick, thinking that way. I’d cared about her a lot for a while, but I hadn’t loved her. Even back then I was pretty sure I’d known that. Becca had deserved better than me then, and she deserved better than Rex now, but how in the hell did you make someone see that?
“I don’t know why I’m here. Rex would kill me if he found out.”
Heat flushed my body, making me sweat. “Does he hurt you? Has that motherfucker laid a hand on you?” Parrish said he hadn’t, but maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Becca hid it well.
“No!” she rushed out, and something about her tone made me believe her. “He’s not physically abusive at all. I swear, Riv. I might be willing to accept a lot, but I wouldn’t deal with that. Not when I have Lainey and Soph.”
But she would if she didn’t have them? Was that what she meant? “You need to leave him. Get as far away from him as you can.”
“Can we go for a walk?” she asked, instead of responding to what I’d said.
I didn’t want to do this, knew what was coming, but I also couldn’t turn her down. She deserved better than that, so we headed around the back of the house and through the woods.
“Where are the kids?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
“With Parrish. I fought with Rex, and he stayed away from home all weekend. I was overwhelmed, and like always, Parrish showed up this morning and saved the day. I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get out of the house.”
Like always, Parrish saved the day. Why didn’t that surprise me?
“You guys are close?”
“He’s the only person in my life who really gives a shit about me, not counting the girls.” She kicked a twig. “She’s not yours, Riv, in case you wondered.”
I nodded, not telling her I knew that from Parrish. Since I wasn’t sure what he’d told her—if anything—about whatever it was we were doing, I was keeping my mouth shut. “I believe you.”
“I wish she were.” Her voice was so low, it was hard to hear her.
“I’m not much better than Rex. Don’t paint me as someone I’m not.”
“You’d be a better father than he is. You were a better boyfriend too.” I shook my head, but she continued. “I’m not just saying that because I’m not happy with Rex. I hate what I did to you…cheating on you with him, not seeing you in prison, jumping from being your girl to his. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I’m the way I am. God, I hate myself for that shit, but I can’t seem to stop doing it. I know that’s not an excuse, but—”
“Who in the hell did you have in your life to teach you any better? We’re all just doing the best we can. I bet you think I should be forgiven for my sins, but you wouldn’t think the same about yourself.” That was human nature, wasn’t it? Unless you were a narcissist. But we were all easier on others than on ourselves. I wasn’t blind to the fact that I did the same thing I was telling her she did.
“And you’re not the same?” she asked, then stopped walking. I had no choice but to follow suit. “I could feel it, ya know? Even before everything went down with Jerry, I could feel you pulling away from me. You hardly touched me anymore. You never kissed me, though you rarely did even when we were happy. You were in your own world most of the time. You didn’t want me, but you didn’t know how to walk away from me either.” Tears pooled in her eyes, then chased each other down her face. Every one of them felt like they were my fault, someone else I’d hurt, her tears trying to drown me.
“It wasn’t you. It’s me. I don’t…” At the time I’d felt I was done with it all. I’d wanted more. I hadn’t known how to give myself to anyone—something that hadn’t changed. “My fuckups aren’t because there is something wrong with you.”
