He pauses. “Yeah, son?”
“Don’t call me again.”
I hang up and toss my phone across the room. My head tips back, toward the ceiling, and I close my stinging eyes. Our conversation replays in my head until my legs are shaking, bones rattling like they’re trying to escape the confines of my skin.
Fuck.
I rub my eyes with the balls of my palms, disgusted at the wetness I have to wipe away. Why’d he have to call? Why couldn’t he just leave me the hell alone, like he was doing?
It’s easy to think I’ve got a handle on our twisted relationship when we go without talking, but to hear his voice? The guilt? The reminder of everything he’s done; everything he’s filtered into my DNA? When I allow myself to think about it too long—how quick a good life can rot just by letting temptation take over—it fucking terrifies me.
At first, when I was a kid and things started getting bad, I felt it. I felt the ache in my gut telling me things were only gonna get worse. But I had no idea what it really meant. Where we’d wind up a few years later.
You’re just like me, son.
My chest hammers, and I try to push his gnawing voice away.
We share the same blood.
But like always, he’s too loud.
You’ll always be just like me.
Releasing a long exhale, I open my blurry eyes, focusing on each breath. When a harsh ray of sunlight pours in through the window, the glare making my eyes water even more, I push off the bed and stroll toward the curtain. I start to pull it shut, but the sprinklers catch my gaze.
I swallow.
A crystal-clear image of Blue sprawled out on the grass forces its way into my mind. The way she smiled up at me, a daring look in her eye, her body soaking wet. I wanted to stay out there with her. I wanted to pull her closer. To feel her against me, under me. Hell, after a minute I just wanted to keep her talking. But, shit. I swipe a palm down my face, shaking the thought and the impulse away.
There’s no better wake-up call than talking to my dad. He might as well have poured a bucket of ice water over my head.
I’m not like him. I can’t be like him.
Girls won’t blind me to what really matters. And if I have any chance of making it to where I want to be, where Ineedto be for Mom’s sake, there’s no room for anything else.Anyoneelse.
I will graduate with honors this year. I’ll get that scholarship. Then I’ll work my ass off to get my degree, and I will be able to provide for us on my own.
I didn’t need Conway before, and I don’t need him now.
Blue
Well, it doesn’t look great.
“Hmm,” Tim murmurs, seated at his desk. He sets down another Q-tip and angles the camera for inspection.
He helped me scan the photos I already have so I can email them, which was easier than I thought it’d be, but fixing a camera that was forgotten in the sprinklers? Not so easy.
“Sorry, Bluebell. Not sure there’s much else I can do for it. Think you’re ready to try the one Rebecca picked up?”
I eye the pink camera sitting beside his keyboard. It’s a newer model, also instant, but I’m reluctant to give up on my first one. I can keep flowers alive year-round, yet I barely had my poor camera a week before killing it.
Finally, I shrug. “I guess so.”
“All right.” He picks it up. “Let’s test it out. Let me see that smile.”
I straighten and place my hands on my waist, then flash him a wide grin.
Click.
