“About the fact you’re older and guys and I was wondering—”
“You don’t need to have that conversation with me.”
“What conversation?”
“Sex. Boys. Mom had it with me.”
“Harper, I think it best I talk to you about this. Me and Hannah.”
“Why? Because you can’t stand to know that Mom was there for me?”
“Hannah’s worried. She noticed a couple of boys hanging around you, and she wanted to be there for you.”
Harper laughed. “You still won’t acknowledge that she existed, can you? Is it, like, just a mistake, is that it? You can’t stand the fact that Mom got things right, and you didn’t.”
“Your mother didn’t know enough.”
“She knew that if you put a cock inside a pussy and climax, there’s a risk of a baby. There’s also a risk of that cock being infected because they don’t know how to keep it in their pants. What more do you need me to know?”
“That is enough from you.”
“Why? Can’t handle being the infected dick of the story?”
Ian slapped her around the face. The action took her by surprise. Her cheek hurt, and as she covered her face, her heart raced.
Blood.
So much blood.
“When the right man comes along, you’ll know. Also, don’t waste your life on a guy that will move on to the shiny new toy. Men do that. Men can’t handle getting old.”
Her eyes had been open when Harper found her in the tub.
The pain in her cheek didn’t even compare to the pain in her heart.
Drawing her fist back, she let it fly, connecting with her dad’s face. She didn’t linger though. Running for her bedroom door, she ran downstairs, shoving Hannah out of the way as she left her home.
She didn’t look, didn’t even care where she was going. She had to get away.
To stop seeing the blood.
To stop feeling the pain within herself.
Before she realized what was happening, she found herself standing at the gates of her old home, in her old neighborhood, in pajamas. Her slippers did not really offer her any protection against the wet pavement.
The house had been bought by a young couple with a couple of kids. Staring up at her old bedroom window, she felt tears spring to her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”
She turned to see Jett beside her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I live here. You ran past me as I was taking the trash out.”
They both stood beneath a streetlight. He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face up to the light.
“Did Draven do that?”
She touched her cheek. “No. My dad.”
“Your dad hit you?”
“It’s the first time. I did call him an infected cock, so I guess we’re even.”
“Why would you call him that?” Jett asked.
“He wanted to talk about sex.”
“Is your dad a pervert?”
She laughed. “No. I don’t think so.” She rubbed at her temples. “He didn’t think my mother had the right qualifications to talk about sex. I guess, he was wrong. I got angry. I’m not allowed to talk about her or to have anything of hers.”
“Is this why you’re obsessed with the jacket?”
She nibbled her lip. “It was the last thing she gave me. It means something. If I took it home, they’d probably destroy it. It’s like they’re trying to kill off every single memory of her I have. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. It’s really not.”
Jett laughed. “I play with knives because my stepfather likes to try and rape my ass. There, that’s an over-share. We’re even.”
She froze. “Really?”
“A long story, short. I’m good with a knife.”
Rain started to fall around them.
“We got to get out of the rain,” he said.
She looked up to the sky, wanting to have the rain fall all around her rather than go back home.
“Come on.” He held her hand and walked her back to his place.
The lawn was overgrown, and the paint on the outside of the house was flaking. She’d passed this place plenty of times but didn’t know it was Jett’s.
He didn’t use the front door, instead going to the window at the front and prying it open.
“This is your room?” she asked.
She’d never been in a guy’s room before.
“Welcome to my humble abode. I don’t sleep upstairs. It’s easier to make an escape here.”
She noticed the bedroom door was bolted, and he closed the window.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt the chill settling in her bones.
“You’re cold.” He had a blanket in his hands and was wrapping it around her.
She shouldn’t be here. She knew it but didn’t ask to leave. Going home wasn’t an option. Taking a seat on his bed, she watched as he started to type on his cell phone.
“You’re not calling my dad, are you?”
“Not all of us have your dad on speed dial,” he said.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.