“Why am I here?” Milo asked, glancing out as we passed Micah’s Kia. “Pretty sure you can stalk your ex alone.”
“I told you.” I sighed. “You’re here to keep me from kicking in the front door. How do I get him to talk to me again?” I slapped the steering wheel. “All I want to do is explain that I care about him.”
“Care, huh? That’s what this is?” He stared at me, and I ignored him.
I wasn’t quite prepared to put a more serious label on a feeling I was having for someone who couldn’t even stand to look at me.
Milo hummed. “My dad brings my mom flowers when they fight. He says it doesn’t matter who started the fight. What matters is who apologizes, so he always does it, no matter what.”
I left the cul-de-sac and got caught at a red light. With a sigh, I leaned forward, bonking my head off the horn. Milo swore as the noise exploded into the night air, and I smirked for the first time all day as I sat up. “That won’t work for this,” I said, grinning at him. “Thanks for trying to help.”
“But it can’t hurt, right?” He shrugged and went back to his phone as it made a weird sound that I figured came from his game.
“I really hate you,” I said as the light turned green, and I tapped the gas pedal.
“Why?” He peeked out of the window. “Your boyfriend’s house is back that way,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “You can’t stalk him like a creep in this direction.”
“I’m going to find some flowers. Good ones. Not from the grocery store.”
“Damn, okay,” he said with a grin, then winked at me. “Roses are always good.”
“It has to be more than good,” I said, feeling desperate again. “But you’re right. I’m not a quitter. I’ve got this.”
He slapped my shoulder, and I was actually smiling as I pushed the pedal down and sped off.
14
MICAH
I’d spenta few days in a zombielike state, and I had no one close enough to notice. Alex hadn’t reached out to me, and I didn’t bother trying to contact him. After the disaster at the police station, I wanted to wallow in shame. My chest hadn’t stopped aching, and at one point while I was getting ready for class, I’d thought I was having a heart attack, but it turned out to be a panic attack.
As I stared out at the numerous faces in the lecture hall, I wondered how many of themknew. How many of the students were silently laughing at how stupid their teacher was? Yet, they all looked at me in confusion as I fell quiet.
“Sir?” Madalyn, one of the smartest people in my Introduction to Ancient Greek History class, sat up straighter in the front row. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and her round silver glasses flashed as she tilted her head. She had black ink tattooed along her arms and some of them reminded me of Yukio, including a particular one she had of a man on an electric guitar. “Is everything okay?”
No, Madalyn, it isn’t. I had my heart broken into a thousand pieces by a man around your age, and now I want to know if he, or anyone else, has spread the tale of my foolishness around the college.
Instead of saying any of those things, I smiled and continued the lecture.
After the lesson was finished and everyone had filtered up the steps and out of the hall, I grabbed my phone and stared at it. I didn’t have any missed calls fromhim, but there was one from my brother, then a text message asking me to call him.
With my lecture being the last of the day, I didn’t need to rush out, so I sat in the chair behind the simple white table at the front of the room. I liked the amphitheater hall, and I always enjoyed teaching in it, but today it didn’t bring me any joy as I glanced up the rows of seats. Staring at my phone, my thumb hovered over the screen as I contemplated what to do.
Phillip rarely called, and while he was much better than Dad in a lot of ways, he wasn’t exactly sympathetic to me, either. The one truly generous thing he’d ever done for me was to help with Alexander and his sports when he was a boy. I couldn’t stand the noise of the practices or the crowds at games, and he’d stepped in. I’d gone to therapy a couple of years ago to get help with that issue.
Phillip had grown up as the oldest and dealt with Dad’s attitude the longest. His hardened personality was Dad’s fault as much as my fearful one was, and we’d developed two very different trauma responses—at least, according to the research I’d done.
Finally, I tapped Phillip’s name and called him back. I slotted the phone between my ear and shoulder as I began to pack up my belongings, and five or so rings later, he answered.
“Hey, student fucker.”
I froze, soul-deep fear churning in my stomach until I gagged, nearly upending the contents onto the table in front of me. “What?” My voice sounded hollow and scared.
Phillip laughed. “I heard from Alexander you’re fucking someone his age. A student at his college. Is she pretty?”
I choked, not quite sure how to answer him, but I didn’t need to because if there was anything Phillip was good at, it was entertaining himself.
“Your son was pretty messed up about it, bro. I have to give it to you, never expected you to fuck someone so young. She’s gotta be almost half your age. Does she have nice tits?” He snickered. “Fuck. You’re living the dream. I bet she’s got a tight pussy, too. Imagine what Candy’s reaction would be. She married a man twenty years older, and you got a chick a lot younger.”
