“I don’t hate people with money,” I whisper.
“Then what’s the big deal?” I feel her gaze on me, but I can’t look at her. It hurts too much.
“I bought you a car … and you said nothing.” I grunt. “I’m sure you and your parents had a good laugh about that.”
“Flynn …”
“One scoopof ice cream on our first date. That’s what I could afford. And I waited in misery for a whole week until I had enough money to take you to dinner.” I tug on my coat. “I didn’t buy this fucking suit because I wanted to save the money to pay for your parking each month, or maybe help pay for gas in your car. I brought you flowers I picked myself because they were free, and I tied them with a goddamn shoelace.” I shake my head. “I’m sure you’ve been showered with dozens and dozens of expensive flowers, jewelry, fancy chocolates, you name it.” I close my eyes. “I’m such a fucking fool.”
“Flynn,” she whispers, then sniffles, resting her hand on my leg. “None of that matters to me.”
“Well, it matters to me! Yeah. It’s my pride. Is that what you want to hear? Is that a flaw?” I force myself to look at her tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “I havenothing.” I jab a finger into my chest. “Except my pride, and now that’s gone. I didn’t walk away from a glamorous life. Do you know what a luxury that is?Oh, fame and fortune were too stressful, maybe I’ll pretend to be a common person. I’ll pretend to understand what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck and slum in a two-bedroom apartment where I have my own bedroom and shop at Whole Foods.”
She swallows hard and wipes her tears. “You’re an asshole,” she whispers. “Because you only see what you want to see. You did it with the Rawlings, and now you’re doing it with me. And I’m—” her voice breaks. “I’m sorry that you don’t feel worthy of nice things, of opportunities … of love.” She opens the door. “That’s your loss.”
“My loss?”
She climbs out and heads across the street between cars.
I follow her. “My loss? Are you fucking kidding me?” I run after her.
The screech of a horn cuts through the air, I look to my right, blinded by headlights, but I keep running.
“Watch out, you stupid kid!” some guy yells out his window.
June fishes her keys out of her handbag.
“You want to know what’s my loss?” I shrug off my jacket and unbutton my shirt. “Pick a scar, June. Pick. A. Fucking. Scar. Let’s talk about the loss of my innocence. Every broken bone. Third-degree burns. Belts to my backside. A fractured nose. Hair yanked out in chunks. Days locked in a closet.” I choke on my next words.The man who made me touch him.I say in my head. They may never leave. I may never tell anyone. “You don’t know shit about my loss,” I whisper.
She frantically wipes her face through her sobs and trails of black mascara down her cheeks.
Slowly buttoning my shirt, I shrug. “I don’t hate what you or the Rawlings have,” I say in defeat. “I just don’t want it. I never want to forget where I’ve been, and how many people are still there. Not for a night out in fancy clothes. Not for anything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Flynn
I returnRupert’s Chevelle and text Monroe:
Can u come get me? No questions asked
He picks me up twenty minutes after I send him the address. As requested, he doesn’t ask questions. He drives to the empty parking lot behind the auto body shop where he works. Then he reaches into the back seat and pulls a six-pack of beer from a sack and hands it to me as we stare at the outlines of graffiti by the service entrance door.
I crack open a beer and down half of it. Monroe’s phone lights up with a text from Naomi, but he turns off the screen and flips it face down on the dash. He’s my only true friend, and I’m losing him to a woman and the life neither of us ever imagined. I’m happy for him. He deserves it.
“She’s rich,” I say. “And famous.” I drink the rest of the beer, crush the can, and toss it on the floor at my feet before opening another beer. “And I’m not pissed off that she didn’t tell me. I’m pissed off that I waited too long to tell her my …” I laugh. “My exciting news. I’m an ex-convict. That would go over well at Thanksgiving with her rich family. Right?” I lean my headback and close my eyes. “She’s … fucking brilliant, man. A cellist with a band. And they’ve played concerts around the world. She’s talented beyond words. Smart. And for whatever reason, she liked me. But it was all a lie. We were a lie. She was hiding her greatness. I’ve been hiding the most regretful, embarrassing parts of my life.” I lift my head and open my eyes. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”
“Because you told her and she doesn’t want to be with you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t tell her. I was going to. That was the plan. Even if I lost her, I needed to tell her. But after I discovered her secret, I just … couldn’t. Man, you should have seen this person who recognized her. She went on and on like June was her idol. And I felt like a fraud standing next to her.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself, Flynn.”
I shake my head. “If she were my daughter, I wouldn’t let her within a mile of a guy like me.”
“A guy like you? Define that. A hard worker? A guy who cares less about himself than literally everyone he meets? A survivor? A loyal friend? A fucking muse?”
I laugh, shaking my head before drinking the entire contents of another can of beer. “Stupid job. That woman is either going to kill herself or she’s not. And her husband will blame me no matter what. I’m not a muse. I’m a … what’s the word? Something goat?”
