Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“If you’re trying to comprehend what it’s like for him, you’re wasting your time. It’s not something you can even fathom unless it happens to you.” A faraway look fills his eyes, and I can tell that he’s more like Zeke than I first realized.

“You lost your ranch?”

He swallows, his throat working before he nods. “A couple years ago. And I can tell you it’s soul-crushing when the bank comes and takes something you’d always thought would be there. Add that to the fact that Zeke’s dad is sick, and there’s no surprise that he’s angry every second of the day. His world has been filled with loss, and the hits just keep coming.”

Of its own volition, my lower lip trembles. Could that be why he’s so miserable every day? I haven’t even lived that level of loss, and it makes my heart break for him. I can’t imagine being in the middle of it every single second.

“Now, I’m not telling you all of this to get you to keep trying with him, but more to help you understand what he’s going through. He’s faced some struggles, and with his dad’s illness, he’s going to face more, but at the end of the day, you deserve to be treated better than what he’s been doing.”

“None of it matters,” I mumble, turning my attention back out the window. My focus on the dry grass and skinny cows is better than internalizing what has happened this summer with Zeke Benson. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’ll probably never see him again. I just wish my summer wasn’t filled with hate and aggression. I get enough of that back home. This summer was supposed to be different.”

“I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.” Rowdy pulls into the parking lot at the feed store, turns off the ignition, and twists in his seat to face me better.

“School starts next Tuesday.” I shrug.

“Does Zeke know you’re leaving?”

“I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since he acted like a jerk at the county fair, and I don’t have any intention of telling him today. He wouldn’t care, anyway.”

Rowdy’s eyes sparkle when he looks at me. “I’d wager a bet that you’re wrong about that part.”Chapter 23Zeke

The leftover meatloaf Mrs. Jacobson sent home with me yesterday is cardboard in my mouth with no taste and a dryness that makes me want to spit it back on the plate rather than chew it and swallow it down. But I know the meal is fine. It’s the atmosphere around my house that is ruining lunch and making my stomach twist into hard knots.

I came home with enough attitude to start a world war after Rowdy and Frankie drove away in his truck. I know that today is going to be different from the other days I came home for lunch.

The hospice aide, nurse, and chaplain are all here, and I could feel the heaviness of today the second I stepped inside the house fifteen minutes ago. Low whispers filter from the living room, but I do my best not to hear what they’re saying. I know what’s coming, and that knowledge has settled in my gut like a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate.

I clear my throat for the millionth time since I sat down, but it doesn’t dislodge the ball of guilt threatening to make me choke. Unable to eat, I stand from the dining room table and scrape the food into the trash. Focusing on washing my plate is a million times better than going into the living room and facing what’s coming.

But I don’t get to hide away for long.

“Zeke?”

I hang my head, hands gripping the edge of the sink when I hear Anne’s voice. The nurse has been nothing but helpful, a true blessing for my mom since my dad came home from the hospital, but the tone of her voice right now says the million things she doesn’t have to express with actual words.

“Yes, ma’am?” I can’t turn to face her. I need one more minute to myself before I see the sadness and truth in her dark brown eyes.

I want Frankie here. I need her kindness and compassion to cocoon me from this damn day. But I don’t get that. I don’t get to feel the warmth of her body when I need it the most because I’ve pushed her away. I’ve been so vicious and vile to her that she doesn’t even look in my direction. She’s avoided me for weeks when I know she has to be going crazy staying in the house all day.

“It won’t be long now.” I flinch when her warm, comforting hand touches my back.

I nod, understanding completely.

It all comes down to this. After weeks of pain, discomfort, medication, and Dad slowly slipping away, today all of that goes away. After he’s gone, it’ll only be Mom and me and more months of pain and discomfort from his loss.