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Hot, angry tears well up. “He has no right.”
He shakes his head angrily. “It’s what he does. We should be used to it by now.”
“I’m not getting used to anything. He needs to stop interfering with us.”
“I agree. And that’s why I choose you over the job,” he says as he plays with my hair, trying to soothe me. I turn to face him. I should be the one consoling him. He just lost his job because of my toxic family.
“We shouldn’t have to choose anything.”
“I know.” He nods.
“But you’ve worked so hard with these kids, and they need you,” I say, getting angrier.
“What do you want to do, Callie?” he says, still eerily calm.
“I’ll talk to him…” I pull back. “Wait, you already have a plan, don’t you? Why are you so calm about this?”
He softly pulls me to him, kissing me. “I don’t have a plan. But I have you. And that’s what matters the most. We’ll figure the rest out.”
“You’re not giving up, are you?”
“I’m not giving up on anything, Callie. Don’t you get that?”
His familiar whiskey eyes search mine for confirmation that I understand what he’s saying.
“We’re in this together, SJ.”
“I want to be the first thing you touch in the morning and the last person you see at night when you close your eyes.” Then he leans in and kisses me again. “This town can fuck right off if they try to get in the way of that.”
My chest aches when I think of all the years we’ve lost. I’m not losing any more time with him.
twenty-five
Callie
Then
“When wereyou going to tell us that you and that boy were prom king and queen?” my mother yells angrily before I can even shut the front door. I look over and take in the wine bottle she’s emptying into her wineglass.
“Hello to you too, Mom,” I say dryly. It’s not even four o’clock. Great. This will be a fun evening. I’m so over her. “When did you get back?”
“Why can’t you choose a nice boy with a good family?” she whines, throwing up her hands and ignoring my question. She’s been gone for five days, and I haven’t heard from her.
I stare at her, disgusted. “Why can’t you just be there for me and actually be a mother?”
She slaps me hard across the face, and I turn and hold my face where she hit me. My skin stings and feels fiery hot. The sting of tears fall from years of neglect and abuse that hurt more than her slap. I guess I had that one coming. The truth hurts.
“I am a good mother.” She narrows her bloodshot and angry eyes at me. “We give you everything.”
“Okay, Mom.” I stare at her in disbelief. I’m leaving for college soon anyway. I don’t know why she even cares at this point. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He’s not good enough for you!” she yells.
“No, you’re holding a grudge against his mother, and he has nothing to do with any of that.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks angrily, her eyes darkening.
“His mother. She admitted everything. When were you going to tell me that I have a half sister out in the world?”
