But I don’t want to contemplate my family right now.
Not about the disappointment, not about trying to get my parents, my mom to see me doing something great, something I want to do, am happy to do…but that I also know I’m doing for her. Partly, anyway.
Also for Blake, of course.
But also maybe so she’ll acknowledge?—
Stop.
“I know you do.” I shove my thoughts down, focus on something that isn’t about me.
My parents are…less than what I wanted, what I hoped for.
But Storm’s dad? He’s a bastard.
His childhood was seriously fucked up.
Seriously.
“Which is why we both know I shouldn’t be disappointed by the status quo.”
“Yeah.” Storm sighs and leans back against the wall. “But logic doesn’t work when this shit hurts.”
“Stuff still bad with your dad?” I ask, not wanting to poke the bear, but also—seriously—wanting to shift the conversation away from my problems.
“Yup,” he mutters. “Always the same shit in Cedar Hollow. Just a different day, different month, different fucking year.”
We fall silent and I don’t miss that his eyes slide across the room, slide over to Joey and Damon, don’t miss the way that pain seems to settle over his bones, making him look a decade older.
Fuck.
Then there’s that.
Shitty childhood.
Fucked-up family.
The woman he wants choosing someone else.
“Storm—”
He pushes away from the wall. “I’m going to make another round of the room, see if we can’t get some more donations.”
“Hey, if you need to go, it’s all good. You’ve done your time and?—”
A sigh. “I promised to be here.” His gaze slides over my shoulder and his face softens for the first time in forever. “And I think your day is about to get a hell of a lot better.”
“What—?”
He claps me on the arm then walks away, heading for the corner opposite of Coach and Damon and?—
“Hey, handsome.”
Her soft, floral scent hits me first then her voice processes and I spin around, mouth dropping open, shock rippling through me. “Kylie? Baby, what the hell are you doing here?”
She’s dressed in a slinky blue dress, the ribbons of her silver sandals crisscrossing their way up her shins.
“Nice shoes, Teach.”
