“Dad said he wouldn’t pay for my college if I didn’t stop ignoring him.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true, but I do think you need to talk to him, Eric.” My mom tiptoed over to me on her quiet feet and gave me a hug from behind. “He wants to apologize.”
He probably only told her that to make her happy, because so far, my father hadn’t even recognized that he fucked up. He’d only sent angry, threatening texts since the day my mom threw him out.
When my mom pulled back, I finally turned and looked at her. I was antsy on the inside, annoyed and frustrated, but I didn’t show her that. “As long as you’re happy, I’m good, Mom.” I began pulling away and started down the hall. “But just because you forgive him, doesn’t mean I do.”
Because how can you forgive someone who doesn’t even have the decency to admit they’re wrong?
Chapter Forty-Three
Madeline
Eric- No Netflix and chill tonight with my mom. She got called into work.
My heart jumped. Finally. I’d been waiting fo
r Eric to text me since he bolted to his house this morning when my mom pulled up from “a night with a friend”. Which really meant she’d stayed at some man’s house instead of bringing him home.
I couldn’t really be mad about that, because at least she wasn’t bringing them near me anymore, but at the same time, I wanted to shake her and ask why we hadn’t just left. But every time I’d bring up my father or ask about him in any way whatsoever, she’d leave the room while mumbling about not wanting to talk about it.
She didn’t even ask about Eric and me this morning. She brushed right past it, as if she hadn’t slept with his father.
Pushing the thought of my mom away, I texted Eric back.
Me: So does this mean we can’t Netflix and chill, or…?
Eric: I’m already walking over. Unlock your bedroom door.
I instantly got giddy. Last night was a crazy whirlwind between us. From me walking into the cabin, reinstating myself with everyone, claiming Eric without caring who saw. After the high wore off this morning, I panicked a little. I wasn’t sure how school would look on Monday, but what was done was done.
I was in this. Selfish or not.
After unlocking my bedroom door, I ran over to my window and peered down at Eric walking through the dewy grass. He was wearing dark-gray joggers, his Nikes, and a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up. He didn’t glance at my window, but before long, I heard him climbing the steps.
My door swung open, and happiness started to make my skin tickle, but then he made eye contact with me, and my happiness faded.
“What’s wrong?” I slowly crept toward him as he glanced to the floor. He sighed loudly, his fists clenched by his sides. “Is it about your dad? What did your mom say this morning?”
I wanted to text him and ask how things went, but I didn’t want to seem clingy. I’d never been a real girlfriend before, which sounded so pathetic, but Christian and I were never like that. We never pried into each other's lives—precisely why we stayed in our fake, apathetic relationship for so long.
Eric’s jawline was sharp as he looked past me, his temples rocking back and forth, his high cheekbones as sturdy as stone. “Eric?” I asked again, gripping onto his flexing fists.
“She’s taking him back.”
No way.
“Even after…” I stopped myself from bringing up the one act that tore us apart.
He slanted his head, looking to the ceiling as if the thought was inconceivable. “Yes,” he bit out. “Even after fucking your mom—and whoever else he fucked.”
I flinched, that annoying bout of guilt hitting me.
A loud growl escaped him as he tore his fists from my hands. He brought one hand to the bridge of his nose as his eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”
“You have no reason to be sorry,” I whispered, grabbing his hand again and pulling it away from his face.
His eyes opened. “I didn’t mean to get angry. Your father is so much worse than mine. I’m just…” His head shook back and forth, and I pushed his hood back. The dark strands of his hair were damp from a shower, and the smell of his shampoo filled my bedroom.