ONE
COLSON
Mom:Where are you?
Mom:My own goddamn son, leaving me to fend for myself.
Mom:What the hell am I going to tell Finn when he noses around?
Mom:You told him you’d handle this.
Mom:Goddamn it, Colson.
You don’t realizehow tiny a car is until you pack it to the brim with your belongings. Take my Ford Focus, for example. It seemed big enough to hold what I wanted to bring with me, but that was until I started filling it, shoving everything I thought I’d need into every nook and cranny.
It puts things into perspective, how I should be in Harrison Heights, not following Sebastian’s hundred-thousand-dollarLexus over the Sycamore Memorial Bridge to Chatham Hills—aka the wealthy side of the tracks. Or in this case, bridge.
A breath escapes my lungs, and I turn the radio down. The speakers on the right side are blown out. Have been since the day I bought it. At first it was trippy, but I’m used to it now. I have no choice but to be since I don’t have family money sprouting out of my ass like Sebastian does. Not that I hate him for it. He’s my cousin after all. The person I looked up to when I was a kid, even if we were the same age.
He’s the kind of guy who will drop what he’s doing to come help you with no questions asked. The guy that will take the shirt off his back and give it to you if needed. Generous isn’t the proper word to really hone in on the type of person he is, and it’s all because of how Aunt Bess and Uncle Thad raised him.
But that doesn’t make this any easier. I didn’t get dealt the hand his parents gave him. Hell, my dad took off long before I ever met him, and Mom, well, she’s in a class of her own and the reason I’m in this shit predicament.
I don’t feel bad for myself normally or play the comparison game, but I’m feeling off after the week I’ve had. I get that some people were born with opportunities out the ass. I don’t look at them differently. Don’t treat them any other way than how I’d like to be treated, but that doesn’t change how noticeable it is on a day like today.
Despite our totally different childhoods, Sebastian and I have been close since we were kids. I spent a lot of time in the Rodriguez household, and back when I was too young to understand, I would go home thinking I’d burst from the jealousy that consumed me because he had it all, and what did I have?
A mother with a bad habit, shitty parenting skills, and not an ounce of nurturing in sight.
Sebastian turns on his blinker, indicating he’s making a right. I follow him through the onslaught of cars in the parking area. He lives in a fancy college apartment on campus. Spring Meadows is what I think the sign said. Many steps up from the dorm he lived in two years ago.
I feel like the biggest mooch when he rolls his window down and signals where to park. Sebastian is too compassionate and charitable for his own good. I hate that I’m taking advantage of his family’s wealth when I’m keeping secrets and lying to them. That I’ll be living with him knowing that his parents are the ones who’ll be covering my portion of the rent when I only told them half the story.
I pull into a space labeledfor residents only. He does the same, and we both slip out, meeting at the back of our cars.
“I’ll talk to the campus admin and get you a parking pass made this week. Then you won’t have to worry about getting a ticket or parking a mile from the entrance.” He regards me with the purest brown-green hazel eyes. My stomach coils at what it might do to our relationship if he finds out about the gaps in my tale of mom stealing a wad of cash out of my nightstand.
I turn, my eyes scaling the height of the ten-story building. Made from the strongest brick and enhanced with black framed windows and fancy light fixtures at the entrance. “They really do that around here. Hand out tickets?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. They don’t usually cause an issue unless they see a bunch of cars without parking passes a lot, but never say never, right?” Trying to reassure me, he gives me a hefty pat on the back before swiping a hand through his chestnut hair. For him, it’s no big deal to have to pay a parking fine, but my checking account is lower than normal and my savings have been wiped out.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him even though I’m the one who called him. This is the fourth time I’m saying it, and the last chance I’m giving him to back out.
I already know he won’t.
He’s under the assumption that Mom stole money that was meant to be deposited into my checking account and in her bout of thievery, left me with little to spare. Hence why he was quick to offer me the extra room in his and his roommates’ college apartment.
That, and he’s never been able to stand Janie Moore. Not since he was old enough to understand how little she cared about anyone but herself.
I was too exhausted after dealing with Mom’s lies and manipulation to fight him on it. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t be walking into this building with him, not when I have the kind of heat on my back that would have him asking a million questions. It doesn’t help that Aunt Bess got in my head too, telling me that time apart from Mom would do me good when she found out about Sebastian’s hospitality. I know she’s right, but it bothers the fuck out of me that I had to leave the only place I’ve known as home at all.
“I know I don’t have to,” Sebastian says. “But it’s happening, so you’re going to have to be okay with accepting help for once. This is the best possible outcome for you, and you know it.”
With the information I’ve fed him, he’s not wrong, but what he doesn’t know—and what I’ll never share—is that having ten grand put in my pocket is the best-case scenario.
Guilt ripples down my spine as if there’s a snake under my skin, squirming and slithering.
I don’t want to bring mom’s drug problems into their lives more than she already has. Moving in with Sebastian for the time being will help me tie up the loose ends so this life Mom refuses to leave doesn’t taint mine before it even begins.But also, I gave Sebastian—and Aunt Bess—my word, and as much as I’ve been waffling on backing out of this new living arrangement, I need to keep it.
