“Especially when you had to move to Ashwood Crossing.”
His head whips toward me, eyes narrowing. “How the fuck you know about that?”
“It’s on Haven’s college application,” I say smoothly.
“’Course it is.” He laughs humorlessly. “That little runt sure got a pair of fucking balls on her, don’t she?”
“She did what she had to do, Bobby.”
His snort is as distasteful as the look he throws my way. “So did I. And what do I get? Ungrateful leech steals my fucking car and runs off to some swanky school.”
“Got to cut her some slack. She didn’t have a mother growing up.”
“’Course she’d put that in her application. Always looking for a fucking handout, that one.” He lets out a rueful snort. “Bet she don’t even remember Ginny.” Bobby stares out the window, jaw working like he’s chewing on something tough. “OD’d when Haven was still in diapers. I’ll never forget the smell.” He shakes his head, mouth twisting with disgust. “Ginny was always bad at changing her, but it’d been fucking hours.”
My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, and for a dangerous moment I have to fight not to slam on the brakes.
“Haven wastherewhen her mother OD’d?” My voice is hoarse all of a sudden, my mouth dry.
“Told you, she don’t remember shit about nothing.”
Why the fuck Bobby sounds so defensive when he claims he wasn’t even there is suspicious as fuck. But I say nothing—because Jesus, what the fuckcanI say?—and when Bobby carries on like we’re discussing a fucking footfall match it all starts making sense.
“Me and Lenny went out to score. Left Haven with Ginny like always. Weren’t even gone all that long, just had a few beers on the way back. But when we got there...” His voice trails off,and for a moment, I glimpse genuine pain beneath the ravaged exterior. “Ginny was cold and the girl was just sitting there in the corner in her dirty diapers.”
Christ.
For the first time since I met Haven Lee, I feel a stab of something that might be genuine sympathy for her. I can’t imagine what would be going through such a young child’s mind during an incident like that. If they’d even comprehend the significance until years later.
I was sixteen when the ambulance came to take Sybil’s body away. She’d been cold, too. That’s how long she’d been in the bath, bleeding out.
Enough time for the water to run cold.
Enough time for Billy to run cold.
Sympathies aside, this changes nothing.
If anything, it makes what’s happening between me and Haven more...understandable.
Haven was primed for corruption long before I came along. I’m probably not the first person who’s taken advantage of the cracks her terrible childhood tore through her psyche.
But I will be the last.
Soon as I figure out how to repair the damage I caused on Tuesday.
Coked-up Bastian has a habit of fucking up, but I’ve learned how to not be so hard on myself.
If I’d been in my right mind, I’d have realized Haven was far too lucid.
Now she remembers everything, and I’ve got a big mess to clean up…and God knows where I’ll find the motivation. Zero dopamine, incredibly low levels of serotonin, and a headache that no amount of Advil can tackle is turning an hour’s indiscretion into massive regret.
Even worse, I’ve started backsliding into old habits.
Spiraling.
“Still, that’s tough for a kid.” I stop for a red light, watching Bobby from my peripheral vision as I try to wedge out the piece of glitter in my cuticle. It’s a losing battle, though. There’s even more under my fucking nail. “Tough on you.”
“Yeah, well.” He scratches at his neck again, nails leaving angry red trails on his skin. “Life’s tough.”
