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“Great.” She practically bounces across the kitchen, away from me. When she reaches the threshold she pauses and says, “I might just go and call Jamison. See if he wants to take me out for dinner tonight.”
Of all the things she could have fucking said. My jaw grinds as I try to keep my reaction under wraps. Part of me wants to lock her in a room and tell her she’s not going anywhere. Another part of me understands that, regardless of our history, that isn’t something I should even be thinking about. Let alone acting on.
“Sutton and I are going out for dinner tonight, so enjoy yourself,” I blurt, more as a reminder to myself than anything.
“Oh. Well, maybe I’ll invite Jamison over here. I can cook him a homemade meal andreallytake care of him.” Savannah winks, her gaze trained on me.
Deep down, I know she’s just messing with me—to see if I meant my apology—but I’ll be damned if that man steps foot in my apartment. I make a mental note to give his description to the doorman and concierge before I leave for the day.
Savannah floats out of the room, a soft chuckle filtering back to me. I lean back against the counter again, my head now pounding as I look out over the city.
It’s going to be a longfuckingday.
NINETEEN
Noah
TEN YEARS AGO
The screendoor slams shut behind me. The sound of it banging against the frame echoing around the cul-de-sac. Nausea bubbles up inside of me as I double over and pull in lungfuls of cold December air. A rush of anxiety crashes into me over and over again. It crushes me under its weight.
He’s gone.
It’s okay.
He’s gone.
It’s okay.
She’s safe.
I know that he’ll be gone for the night. Every time it happens the same way. He gets angry about something she’s done—or not done, who fucking knows—and hits her. This is why I didn’t want to go to college. She tried to tell me she’d be fine but the bruises don’t lie.
This past week, everything seemed to be okay, but he just couldn’t stop himself this morning.On Christmas of all days.The flare of surprise before the angry mist took over told me that he didn’t expect me to get between them, again.
As if on instinct, my feet carry me across the street and down the sidewalk. Even though I’m focused on getting to my destination, I can’t silence the screams in my ears. A tightness grabs a hold of my chest, squeezing and twisting at the muscles. Clenching my fists, I push down the anger bubbling under the surface.
I hope he doesn’t come back.
My feet come to a stop outside of Jack’s house. The living room window faces out onto the street, a large green fir tree fills the bay window. From my position on the sidewalk, its twinkling lights mocks me as it blocks out the view into what I know would be a happy Christmas morning.
Briefly, I look back over at my house. In comparison to Jack’s, with its fresh looking shutters and pristine front porch, mine looks rundown and unkept. A gray cloud hangs heavy over it, a true representation of the misery contained inside. There are no Christmas lights, no tree with presents underneath and certainly no happy family.
“Are you gonna stay out here catching a cold or come in?” Jack calls, humor lacing his voice.
I don’t look over at him right away, because if I do, his humor will turn to sympathy and I don’t want to bring him down. Not today. No, for one day, I’d like to play pretend and not drag my best friend into my pit of despair. Jack’s already seen it all. But after that one time, when he helped me more than I could have imagined, I vowed he’d never see it again.
Pasting a smile onto my face, I turn to Jack, walking up the driveway. The stones crunch under my sneaker clad feet and I shiver as a gust of wind blows past me.
Jack claps me on the back as I step over the threshold into the house. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, the closest thing to a hug we give each other. “You can borrow one of my jackets when you go home later. Come on, we just started opening presents, then it’s about time we stuffed our faces.”
The smell of turkey and stuffing fills the house and my stomach gurgles. I haven’t eaten since Jack and I went to the mall yesterday afternoon. There’s never really any food in the house. My mom finds it hard to get to the store when my dad’s always gone with the car. Of course, he can bring beer home, but not anything of sustenance.
I pull back out of Jack’s embrace, not wanting to intrude. Christmas is supposed to be about family, right? Surely that means I shouldn’t leave my mom alone.
What if he comes back?
Resting both hands on my shoulders, Jack turns me, his face serious. His voice is soothing in a way I hate to hear and sounds far older than his twenty-one years of age. “She’ll be fine, you can take a plate home for her later. We want you to join us, No. You’re our family.”
