Silence.
All I hear is the sound of her soft breathing. My heart hammering. The crickets off in the distance.
“I didn’t realize you liked boys,” Mom says finally.
“I don’t.”
“I’m confused.”
“I don’t like boys. It was a dare. A follow up to another dare.”
If I could see her now, she’d be rolling her eyes at me.
“What was the other dare?”
“Make this boy fall in love with me and break his heart.”
“Maxwell Hayes!” Mom yells loud in my ear. “You will do no such thing. I raised you better.”
“Sorry, it must be the daddy issues showing.”
She sighs. “You will not hurt that boy for fun, do you hear me?”
“Fine,” I lied. Just because I’m in my feelings right now, it doesn’t mean this dare is over.
I’m going to my dorm to sleep off the alcohol and Clayton Reeves will be out of my system by morning. The echo of his body against mine will be gone. The taste of him on my lips will be nonexistent.
All I need is a good night's rest and round two of some good pussy.
Chapter 8
Maxwell
ThelastthingIwanted to do this morning while hungover as all hell was go to brunch with my father, but I guess we both owe it each other.
He drove me downtown, both of us not daring to speak to one another in the car.
The silence between us is filled so thick with tension that it makes it hard to breathe. Even the windows are cracked and fresh air isn’t helpful to our cause.
My head is pounding and I’m borderline about to throw up in his fancy Mercedes. Dad whips into the parking lot of what used to be our families favorite, Daisy's Kitchen. The car jerked so hard I threw up in my mouth and had to swallow it down, the acid-like puke burning at my throat.
When we’re out of the car and inside the diner, everyone greets my father like he’s king of the world. I get the same treatment, but it doesn’t feel the same as it always does.
Sitting down at our usual booth in the corner, a waitress comes over with a black coffee for dad and strawberry milk for me.
“Thanks, Darlene,” Dad says to her. She smiles back at him and lets us know she’ll be back with our orders. The best part about coming here is everyone already knows what we want and how we like it.
He looks at me and this is the moment I’ve been dreading since he texted me this morning. I'm not sure what to expect from him, but he doesn't keep me waiting and jumps right into it.
“I never wanted kids,” he admits, throwing me for a loop. “I worked at a place filled with people who either grew up or haven’t. The ones who hadn’t left impressions. Kids who would cause a ruckus and trouble just because.” It sounds like he’s describing me, but I ignore it and let him keep going.
“When your mom was pregnant, I almost left her, but then it occurred to me that it took both of us to make this child. And that I loved her way too much. I watched her, the way she nurtured you even in her belly. It was just short of magical. She lit up like a Christmas tree when she loved you. She loved you in a way that she didn’t me. You were her life. You changed her into a better version of herself. She was made to be a mother. The day you were born, she stopped being my wife. She stopped loving me like she always had. It was you, always you, but for me? It was her. Always her.”
I put my hands in front of my face to cover the way that my chin is quivering.
“I did everything she ever asked of me. If she ran out of formula at ten at night, I was at the store. If she needed a missing ingredient for dinner, I went running. If she wanted to go out for dinner, I broughther. If she needed alone time, I watched you. I fed you. I changed your ass. I did everything a parent is supposed to do, but I never did it because I loved you. I did it because I loved her.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I interrupt, my voice threatening to crack. One word away from breaking.
