“I want to know where my dad is, but he won’t tell me.”
“He’s in rehab. Everyone knows that.”
“But which one? Trystan said it’s in the desert somewhere. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was in Malibu at the one he always goes to.”
“Could you ask your dad?”
“I could, but he’d know I’m asking for you, and if he doesn’t want you knowing, he won’t tell me.”
“Why doesn’t he want me to know?”
“Why do you care? And why are you trying so hard to find him? Your dad’s fucked up. He didn’t even want you living with him.”
“He would if he wasn’t in rehab. If he’s getting out soon, maybe I could move in with him.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Why? Do you know something?”
“I need to go. Told the coach I’d be there at three.” He takes off.
He didn’t answer my question. Is it because he doesn’t have an answer or because he doesn’t want to tell me what he knows?
Chapter 21
The rest of the weekend I spend in my room. Angry. Sad. Consumed with thoughts of Axl with that other girl.
How could he do this to me? He said he loved me. He said he wanted a life with me. We had plans. And then, in an instant, it’s over.
Now I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll graduate and then what? Go back to New York? I can’t afford a place there by myself. I’d have to find some roommates, but even if I did, do I really want to be there? In the city where my mom died? The city filled with memories of Axl and me?
“Rumor, we’re going to dinner,” Brock says through my door. “Would you like to come along?”
“No,” I yell so he’ll hear me.
The door, which I thought was locked, swings open. Brock walks in and frowns when he sees me still in bed.
“Rumor, you can’t stay in here forever. You have school tomorrow.”
I turn away from him and pull the covers over me.
“Hey.” He sits beside me on the bed. “I know it’s tough when a relationship ends but it’s usually a sign the person wasn’t right for you.”
He’s giving me relationship advice? Is he serious? With his cheating and two failed marriages, he’s the last person I’d take advice from.
“Could you leave me alone, please?”
“You sure you don’t want to go to dinner? It’s a tradition we used to have when the boys were younger. We’d take them to dinner before the first day of school.” He laughs a little. “Their mother would throw a little party with cake and ice cream, and she’d give them each a small gift. She thought it’d help them feel better about going to school.”
“She sounds like a good mom,” I say in a quiet voice.
“She was,” he says, his voice trailing off. The bed moves as he gets up. “Last chance. I’d really like you to join us.”
“I’d rather stay here.”
“Okay, then. We’ll be back in an hour or so.” He walks to the door. “If you’d like to order something in, the takeout menus are in a drawer in the kitchen.”
