The Boy Who Has No Redemption (Soulless 8)

When I walked in the door, I chatted with my mom for a bit before I placed the food on the counter.

Lizzie stayed on the couch, her eyes down.

I turned to look at her. “What is it?”

“What is what?” she asked, still on her phone.

“I bring home food, and you have no reaction?” My hands moved to my hips, and I stared her down.

She finally raised her head and looked at me.

“Lizzie, what did you do?”

She sighed before she got off the couch and headed to her backpack. She unzipped a compartment before she revealed a piece of paper. “I need you to sign this…”

I unfolded it and read it. “You have detention every day because you’re failing math.” I lifted my gaze and looked at her, extremely disappointed. “Lizzie, why are you failing math?”

“Because I don’t get it, okay? It’s hard.”

“I don’t care if it’s hard. You need to figure it out.”

“I’ve gone to other tutors, and it doesn’t work. He was the only—”

“Do not depend on a man for anything, Lizzie. Do not allow yourself to fail because he’s not here to teach you. If you’ve learned anything from me, it’s not to rely on anyone but yourself. So that’s not an excuse. You will figure this out—on your own. Do you understand me?”

All she gave was a nod.

I signed the slip then left it on the counter. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with this right when I walked in the door, so I pulled out my sandwich, grabbed a glass of wine, and then sat at the dining table so I could enjoy my meal and not think about anything else.

Lizzie would normally eat on the couch for takeout, but she moved to the seat across from me. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re failing, Lizzie.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re mad about something else.” She unwrapped her sandwich and picked up a half.

I opened the bag of chips and dropped my gaze, both touched and annoyed by the fact that she knew me so well. “Just had a bad day at work.”

“Did he do something?”

There was an unspoken agreement between us not to say his name. I grabbed a few chips and placed them in my mouth.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

I loved it when Lizzie was kind and affectionate with me, but I hated the trigger for it—my sorrow. I hated that she knew I was sad. I hated that she knew I’d allowed some asshole to rip me apart. “He tried to apologize to me today…and I screamed at him.”

“You did?” she asked in surprise. “Good. He deserves it.”

“Yeah…” He absolutely deserved it.

“Then why are you so sad? I thought you would be happy that he apologized and admitted he was wrong. It must have felt good to tell him off.”

I unwrapped my sandwich and picked up half. “Yeah, I thought I would be happy too. But…it didn’t make me feel anything. I guess it’s nice to finally get some closure, but…I was so harsh with him. That’s not me. He’s turned me into someone I don’t like, and that just makes me feel worse.”

Lizzie didn’t eat. She held her sandwich and looked at me.

“He’s made me into this bitter, hateful, empty person. And I hate him for that. But I also hate myself for allowing him to do that. I should have been smarter. I should have done things differently. All of this could have been avoided if I’d just made better decisions.”

“But Mom, how can anyone live that way? How can anyone not make a mistake? That’s just unrealistic. You loved him, and you took a chance. He was the one who messed up, not you, so you shouldn’t feel bad. Don’t blame yourself, Mom. I don’t think less of you. No one thinks less of you.”

I took a pause to stare at my sandwich, to let the emotion disappear before it made me choke up and cry. “Thanks, sweetheart.” When I was ready, I lifted my chin and looked at her, seeing the most perfect person in the world across from me. I’d been her mom for thirteen years, but the older she became, the more she became my friend…my best friend.

“I’m glad you told him off. I know how much he hurt you, and he deserves to know how much he made you suffer. The apology doesn’t mean anything, but having the opportunity to tell him how you feel…that probably meant a lot more.”

“I guess.”

“You’ll get another job, and you won’t have to see him again. Then it’ll be over—for good. And you’ll find a really great guy, be happy, and then he’ll just be a guy whose name you can barely remember. I know it.”

“Thanks, baby.”

Days passed, and Derek and I didn’t see each other.

Maybe he was avoiding me, but I was also avoiding him, so it worked out pretty well. We talked over email about the applicants, which was preferable to looking at his face.