“How can you be happy?” Bitter anger boils inside me, filling my veins with an angry venom.
“What’s not to be happy about?” Henry pipes up, and I swing my frigid gaze to his, acid burning up my throat.
What’s not to be happy about?
“While I could name off a long list of things I’m not happy with, starting with my father missing, which neither of you seems to care about,” I spit, bearing my teeth.
Henry squints his eyes at me, and instead of responding, takes a drink from his glass, a glass that he looks like he wants to toss at my head.
My mother of course gasps, her eyes widening with horror as if I’ve slapped her.
“I’m getting very tired of your attitude. I’ve tried to be understanding but…” she starts to lash out, but I don’t give her the chance to finish whatever ridiculous shit she was going to make up. I wonder if she even believes the shit she says.
“Both of you did this.” I point my finger at my mother, and then Henry. “It was your selfish choices that drove a wedge between your marriages. If you hadn’t fucked each other, maybe our families would be whole. Maybe my father wouldn’t be missing, and maybe I wouldn’t be in this deranged jail cell.”
I’m past angry, and more in the murderous rage bracket.
“Ava Marie!” my mother scolds as if I’m a child, her face paling at my spoken truth. So far, I’ve never called her out on her bullshit, but I’m done, so far past done I don’t care what happens to me anymore. Put me on the street, take it all away. At least when it’s over, I’ll still have myself. I turn on my heels, my sandals squeaking across the floor as I stomp out into the foyer.
“You will not talk to your mother like that, not in my house,” Henry bellows behind me, and I can’t help myself, I turn around, lift my hand, and flip him off. If he thinks he’s going to try and father me, he has another thing coming. I’ll jump off the side of a cliff before I let that happen.
“Go fuck yourself, Henry,” I sneer, wanting to wipe the floor with his face, but instead stomp up the stairs and into my room slamming the door so hard that it rattles. Shucking off my backpack, I toss it into the corner on a chair and kick off my sandals. Then I sink into the mattress and wish for it to swallow me whole.
Tears start to fall without permission and a sob pushes past my lips, the noise breaking the silence around me. Alone. Always alone. I have no one, nothing, my mother doesn’t care about me, my father is missing, and Vance… Squeezing my eyes shut, I try and forget about him. About his scent, the way his body feels against mine, and his words.
I love you.
I would never tell him, never, but I love him too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vance
My fingers throb, and my eyes burn, but I finally finished the English paper for her. Most think I’m dumb and that I don’t know my ass from my head, but I do. I just don’t apply myself. Thumbing through the freshly printed pieces of paper, I count them ensuring they’re all there before stapling them together. I would never put so much work into one of my own papers, for her, on the other hand, I stayed up until almost midnight so I could finish this. Professor Hall might have given her ten days, but I want this off her mind.
Opening my door, I sneak across the hall to hers. All I plan on doing is going into her room quietly to lay this on her desk so she has it in the morning, but when I grab the brass doorknob and turn it slowly, pushing it open gently, a soft sob meets my ears. The noise is earth-shattering, raw, and a cry for help. I open the door enough to slip into the room. It’s dark, but I can see enough to make out the bed.
I put the paper down on the desk and step closer. Ava’s sobbing quiets down, but I know she’s still crying by the low sniffing noises she’s emitting. I should ask her if she is okay? If there is anything I can do. But I’m not stupid. I know she’ll just send me away.
She doesn’t want to admit that she needs anyone, and especially not me. Staring down at her unmoving form, I wonder if she would push me away if I slid into the bed next to her? Maybe she would just let me comfort her while pretending I’m not here. I’ve never comforted anyone in my life, mainly because I never had the need or urge to do so. Not until her.