Maybe it’s both.
“You made my moms sad, and I’m fucking pissed off at you,” she hisses. “But I still love you, you annoying bitch.”
I let out a choked noise, worried I’m about to start sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ll have to say that to them. And mean it. And explain why you’re working for the enemy.” She rattles off each demand while keeping a tight hold on me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, already envisioning the conversation. Where I tell them the diner doesn’t pay enough. Not for what I need.
After everything they’ve done for my family, it sounds so ungrateful. Even if it’s true.
“Okay,” I mutter into her shoulder. “I will. I promise.”
“You’re going through shit,” Darla grouches. “I get that, youknow?” Her voice loses the sharp edge, thickening with suppressed emotion. “You didn’t lose your mom, but it was a close thing. Multiple times. And now you’re terrified all the time of losing her. Or losing Shawn. Or someone else you care about.”
“I…”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“I still might shave your head in the middle of the night.” Darla lets go of the hug/threatening embrace only to dig her fingers into my shoulders and scowl down at me. “You lose people with lies.” I can’t escape the hard ice of her eyes as my terrifying friend lays down some tough love. “Tell the truth. Blow everything up. Sometimes what’s left after the chaos is better.”
Chapter
37
“What’s wrong?” George’squestion jerks me out of my anxious thoughts and back into reality. I glance up at him where he sits beside me on his couch.
After the confrontation with Darla at the diner, I headed home, showered, cried some while in the shower, dressed in my comfiest clothes, let Grumps out so he could intimidate squirrels, then showed up at George’s apartment like I had originally planned before my day went to shit. We’ve been sitting here, quietly watching a reality show about pilots flying to remote communities in Canada while Jet lets out the occasional demonic yowl from her hiding spot under the couch.
George’s discerning gray eyes track over my face, and I guess I’ve gotten out of the habit of masking my emotions around him. Probably an indication of emotional growth, but the new vulnerability makes it hard to hide that the toxic judgments his mentor spoke to me still loom heavy in my brain. Especially when my walls were demolished even more by Darla’s words.
Ever since that shift at Beefies, my mind has continued to reel, seeking a solution. A way to shut down the scandalous picture Vernon painted of my relationship.
Only one option seems to fix the source of the problem.
“I was thinking.” My voice is tight, and I have to clear my throat to get the next words out. “About the rest of my flight hours.”
George smiles. “Not too many more now.”
“I don’t think you should be my instructor. Not anymore.”
George was sitting in a relaxed sprawl, but his body stiffens. Slowly, he sits up, his eyes on me.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re sleeping together. We’re sleeping together, and you’re not charging me.”
He frowns, the expression digging deep lines into his brow. “Those aren’t related.”
“We know that. Other people don’t.”
“What other people?” He shakes his head as if an annoying fly buzzes around his face. “No, it doesn’t matter. Screw those other people.”
He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew who brought up the subject.
Or would he keep the same stance he has now? Would he tell Vernon to fuck off?
My hopeful heart wants to believe the latter, but my stomach cramps at the idea anyway. George lost his mother and doesn’t get along with his father. Whenever he talks about Vernon, I can hear the respect and affection in his voice. I don’t want to be the wedge that splits George from his mentor.
