Some Kind of Normal

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of Mrs. Henney as she shushed us.

Trevor ran his hand over his chin and studied me for a few moments, that slow grin still in place though it had pretty much left his eyes. “Don’t worry, Everly. Sorry. Ever. I’m having a good day today.” Sarcasm bit into his words. “I understand all of it.” He looked away and muttered. “Every single word.”

His eyes swung back, and I saw anger in their depths, which only made me feel worse than I already did.

“Just so you know, I’m not a moron. I might have been in a coma and all.” His eyes narrowed and he winced as if in pain. “Maybe my words come out a little slow sometimes, but you don’t have to talk to me as if I’m some kind of loser. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“You don’t know me,” I shot back.

“No, I guess I don’t. That’s one thing we can agree on.”

The feelings inside me—the hot, heavy, angry ones—had nothing to do with Trevor and everything to do with my dad. They were always there. Waiting for a chance to explode. They were etched into flesh and bone, and they colored everything in my life.

I thought of my mom and her sad eyes that poked out from underneath her perfect bangs when she thought no one could see. I thought of the denial that she clung to every single day, denial that she pretty much ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I thought of my father. Of how this morning as he spread peanut butter over his stupid bagel, he’d said that he’d be dropping Isaac off at a friend’s before heading into the city for errands.

Errands. You’d think he’d at least come up with a new excuse, because that one was getting old.

I didn’t ask him when he’d be back because I didn’t care, and he didn’t volunteer that information, so I figured that he was up to no good.

There it was. The sad story of Everly Jenkins. That was all that I had time for, and it was exhausting.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Really, I didn’t. That was a stupid thing for me to say. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The words were wooden and the apology pretty darn sad, but it was all I had.

Chapter Three

Trevor

“You look tired, honey. Are you sure you’re up to going out?”

I glanced at my dad for help, but his nose was buried in a biker magazine and he didn’t bat an eye. Kind of convenient, the magazine, but in a house run by the woman standing in front of me, with both hands on her hips and that penetrating gaze that could see through anything, not really a surprise.

My dad is a big guy. Not only is he tall with broad shoulders, he’s built like a brick house. He’s got bulging biceps, an affinity for tattoos, and a shaved head to boot. The tattoo thing we have in common, and though I can look him in the eye because we’re pretty much the same height now, I’m more on the lean side. On the football field I was the go-to wide receiver because I was built for speed, while my dad would have been the center or fullback.

He’s an intimidating dude, and when he wants to, he can look pretty damn scary.

Except he’s so far from scary it’s laughable. Don’t get me wrong. My dad’s temper has a slow fuse, and when it’s lit, he has no problem using his size to intimidate anyone who wrongs him. And he’s more than willing to back that attitude up with his fists. No one pushes him around. I mean, no one.

Well, except for my mom.

She has him by the balls, and he’s totally fine with it. He told me once that a good woman was hard to come by and even harder to keep. He said that when I found the right girl, I’d do whatever I needed to do to make her happy. Case in point? A few years back, Dad took up line dancing because my mom wouldn’t stop talking about it. Line dancing. Can you imagine? Talk about a bull in a china shop.

At the time I thought it was lame, and Nate and I used to razz him about it. A lot. I mean, he was about as far away from those line dancing guys as you could get. But my dad would just shake his head and grin. He told Nate and me that even though he had two left feet, it was worth it because it made my mom happy. He said that one day we’d learn what it meant to put someone else first.

One day we would learn how a smile could knock us on our ass.

All of that was fine—hell, it was his life and all—but I couldn’t help but think that when Mom got all up in my shit, he should at least stick up for me. Wasn’t there some kind of guy code?

“Trevor? Did you hear me? I think you’re a little pale. Maybe you should just stay in. Your first day studying must have been intense. You might have overdone it.”

Here we go.

“I’m fine.”

The words came out a little sharp, and I heard my dad rattle his magazine—his warning for respect. Whatever. I needed to get out. I’d been pissed ever since Everly blew me off at the library, and these days, my temper doesn’t have a slow fuse. It can turn on a dime, and right now, I felt something brewing.

I needed to get out.

If only I could find my damn cell phone. It was here, among all the crap tossed onto the kitchen counter. There was at least a week’s worth of newspapers piled up (who actually read the paper anymore?) along with an impressive amount of junk mail.