‘All of his shit’ consisting of his bowls, litter tray, litter, and food. But that stuff counted, damn it.
“He’ll come home with me, of course. We can always double up so he’s got things at both of our homes.”
“So we’re co-parenting?” I mumbled as I took a corner, feeling fucking frustrated.
“I guess we could do that, but I don’t see what the problem is, Jackson? What’s going on?”
Instead of owning up and just saying it all out loud like a man, I took the childlike approach to it—something that I didn’t realize until all hell broke loose.
“Nothing. There’s jack shit wrong.”
She didn’t say anything, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her staring blankly out of the windshield.
When I was younger, when my brothers and I fought, there was screaming, yelling, punches thrown, and everything got worked out.
Well, no, actually, it didn’t get worked out. That was usually thanks to our parents either knocking our heads together or making us work as a unit to clean up what we’d broken. I’d lost count of how many lamps, plates, glasses, end tables, coffee tables, bowls, et cetera, we’d broken.
At the time, it’d seem warranted, but now I winced when I thought about it. We were such shitheads. Come to think of it, we were still shitheads. Nowadays, it was just punches and beer bottles that we threw, and the last time that’d happened was about a year ago, so maybe we were finally growing up.
Unfortunately, with the realization that I’d matured, I still didn’t just do the adult thing and just come out and say it.
Finally, she broke the tension. “Know what? Just drop me off at my place. I’ll arrange a time to come and get my stuff when you’re not there. Please could you look after Milkshake until then?”
“No,” I snapped, pulling up to a stop at the red light. “Fuck no.”
“Are you going to tell me what your problem is?”
Glaring at her, I ground out, “I don’t have a problem, you have a problem. Why don’t you just say it out loud, instead of nagging at me to do it.”
I hadn’t meant to say it the way I had, and if it were possible to do it, I’d have grabbed all the words and thrown them out of the vehicle before they hit her ears. But it wasn’t, and she heard them.
Her hand shot out, and she hit the center console between us, disengaging the locks. Then she jumped out of the truck and calmly walked over to the sidewalk, even smiling and holding her hand up at the old man in the car next to us, who was watching her with his bushy eyebrows up in the air.
Slowly, his eyes moved over to where I was sitting with my mouth open, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened.
I knew I’d fucked up the moment I’d said the words, but it wasn’t until he mouthed, “You’re fucked, son,” that it hit me how badly I’d done it.
Like I wasn’t already starting to freak out, he glanced back at where she was walking away from me and then shouted out, “Flowers ain’t gonna cut it, kid. You need to grovel.”
All of the fight left me, and I slumped forward until my head landed on the steering wheel. The sound of the horn blaring didn’t even register while I mentally kicked my own ass.
“If you don’t cut it the fuck out, I’m gonna kick your ass,” a deep voice bellowed. “Do you even know who I am?”
Lifting my head, I took in the huge guy with muscles bulging out of his shoulders and arms, standing in the door of his vehicle, and looking like he was seconds away from doing what he’d just threatened.
Normally I’d just lock my doors and look the other way, but I was so caught up in my pity party that common sense left the building. It didn’t just leave, it got on a plane and flew to Egypt.
Pressing the button for my window, I stuck my head out of it.
“Look, fucker, I just said something to my girlfriend”—I pointed at Sasha—“that made her get out of my goddamn vehicle and storm off. She only just got her cast off today from when I hit her with this fucking truck.” I ignored the horrified gasps from the people who heard it, too focused on the meathead who was now cracking his neck.
“Forgive the ever-loving fuck outta me if I feel bad about it. I wasn’t pressing my horn for you, you’re not even worth that bullshit. I didn’t even know you existed until you started yelling and threatening me.”
“You knew I existed,” he roared, the veins in his forehead popping out. “Everyone knows me.”
Jesus Christ, what the fuck was up with the world today?