“What the hell?” I hear someone shout. “What the fuck is going on?”
Someone grabs me, pulling the pipe out of my hands, and I whip around, seeing Jake. His shirt is open, and his feet are bare, and Noah hangs back by the door, watching in horror.
Jake looks between his son and me, breathing hard.
I clench my fists, a beautiful numbness seeping down over me.
Kaleb holds my gaze for a moment, the pulse in his neck throbbing, but then turns and grabs clothes off the dryer, finishing getting dressed. He doesn’t even have his boots tied before he slips on his coat and grabs his stocked pack, heading for the door.
“Wait, what the fuck is going on?” Jake grabs his son.
Kaleb jerks out of his hold and continues walking.
“You’re not going anywhere in this weather!” he yells at Kaleb.
Kaleb stops, turns, and looks at me. His eyes falter for a moment, looking sorry or some shit, and for a moment I think he’s going to come back.
He simply holds my eyes, lays his hand flat on his chest, and taps it twice.
I don’t know what it means, and I don’t fucking care.
Without sparing another moment, he turns and leaves, disappearing into the cold night.
Tiernan
I take a bite of my toast, holding it between my fingers as I prop the book open at the table. Their eyes burn my cheeks, but I avoid their gazes as I copy notes from the text into my notebook.
I take another bite.
“Are you okay?” Jake asks.
I flip the notebook over, continuing the sentence I’m writing. “I’m fine.”
The wind howls outside, and the snow kicks up and taps at the windows. The animals have been tended to, but we won’t be doing much else outside today. It’s below zero.
Not that I’ve been helping much lately anyway, and I don’t really care what Jake has to say about it. I dare him to pick a fight.
“You’re fine,” Noah repeats. “You’ve said that every day for the past week. And yet, you’ll barely talk to us.”
Guilt pricks at me, and I forget what I’m writing. It takes a moment to remember the word I was jotting down and continue.
Noah doesn’t deserve my silent treatment. Neither does Jake, really.
It just hurts. I don’t know what hurts exactly or why it hurts, but I’m angry, and I can’t pretend I’m not. Jake followed Kaleb that night, and I went directly to the shower that was still left running, sitting in there for a half hour before my shivers and tears subsided.
When he came back, though, he came back alone, and I haven’t cried since. We haven’t seen Kaleb.
“I’m sorry he did that to your piece,” Jake tells me, holding his cup of coffee.
But I just shrug. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was taking it with me in April anyway.”
“April?” Noah blurts out, and I hear him shift in his chair. “College doesn’t start until August.”
“I’ll be finished with my course work soon,” I tell them, not looking up. “As soon as the roads are clear, I’m going home.”
I’m eighteen, I’m financially independent, and I don’t belong here. Why would I stay?
I feel Jake lean in, tense. “This is your home.”