Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“Your momma asked you a question, Son.” Dad watches me rather than lifting his fork to eat.

I hate being the focus of his attention. As a child, I lived for having his undivided attention, but his eyes aren’t filled with pride right now like they were when I was a child. Right now, he’s glaring at me like I’m purposely disrespecting him and my mother. The focus rubs me the wrong way. Knowing what I said to Frankie and how I treated her earlier is already like needles to my nerves. I don’t need to continue talking about her to my parents, but I open my mouth with the truth, anyway.

“Frances Young is a child. She has absolutely no responsibilities. She’s an entitled little girl who—”

“That’s enough,” Dad snaps, but there’s no fire behind his words. He doesn’t have the strength for it.

I’m hit with a new wave of guilt. His hands tremble as he rests them beside his plate.

“She’s perfect for you,” Mom says as she takes her seat across from me on Dad’s other side.

“Like how Benjamin Scott was perfect for you?” Mom gasps, and I hear Dad take in a ragged breath. “If I refuse to marry Frances, are you going to kick me out and disinherit me like your folks did when you rejected Benjamin?”

I almost chuckle at the disinherited part. There’s nothing they have for me to inherit but shame and failure.

Benjamin Scott was who her parents picked for her. He was the man that fit the perfect image of the husband they wanted for their daughter. He came from money and was active in the church. My mother fell in love with my dad instead. A poor farmer who spent too many hours in the fields during the week to worry about what God was doing on Sundays.

“That’s enough!” Dad slams his palms down on the table, rattling the dishes.

“Look, I’m sor—” My words stop when I look over at my dad. He’s white as a ghost, but before I can ask if he’s okay, he topples to the side, taking his uneaten plate of food to the floor with him.Chapter 10Frankie

It took all the focus I could muster to make it through helping Nan put away the groceries without confessing the kind of man Zeke Benson actually is. My hands trembled the entire time as my mind raced with a million brilliant, insulting things I could’ve said earlier in his truck. Of course when I was in the situation, I couldn’t do much of anything but stare at him like I was hearing him wrong.

“I am not obsessed with him, and I’m certainly not in love with his arrogant ass,” I mutter as I tug down the hem of my cutoff shorts. “He’s delusional.”

But then again, maybe he does have a point. I know how I was feeling when he pulled his mouth from mine. Just remembering our first kiss—my first kiss—makes my cheeks burn with the heat of a thousand suns.

Those first few seconds were beyond awkward, but after my brain caught up and realized what was happening, it was perfect.

I trace my tongue over my lips in memory, but as much as I want to focus on the good things that happened in his truck, his harsh words manage to filter in and take over like they always do.

He’s horrible, just vile and mean for no other reason than he must like to watch my face contort in agony. And every dang time I fall for it. Each time he treats me with kindness or shows me a side of him I think I could like, he blows it all away in the blink of an eye. The manipulation is weighing on me, and I’m only out here to build the courage to tell Nan I don’t want anything to do with him going forward. If she asks questions, I’ll tell her the truth. I can’t keep going on like this. It keeps me awake at night. My appetite is nonexistent because of the way he treats me. He’s ruining my life one insult at a time, and I’ve had enough.

Taking a deep breath, I bend forward, propping my chin on my hands and looking out over the land. The peaceful silence is interrupted by the wail of sirens. I’m not a stranger to the sound of police cars and ambulances. I hear them all the time back home, but it’s out of place out here. Not once in the weeks I’ve been here have I heard them.

I watch in fascination at the flashing red lights, wondering where they’re headed as an ambulance soars past the end of Nan’s driveway. My gut clenches when it slows, taking the driveway to Zeke’s place. I learned shortly after arriving that Zeke and his family live on Jacobson land in the smaller house on the property.