Better When He's Bold
Page 47
It was highly inappropriate that my little sister was practically giving me a high five over getting laid, and I hadn’t realized I was smiling. Oh, Lord, what was I going to do about Race?
“Just be smart, don’t do anything stupid while you’re out tonight, okay?”
“I never do, Brysen.”
I wished I could say the same thing. She left me to my own devices, and I finished a project I had, looked over my Math Theory notes, and somewhere in there fell asleep for a few minutes. I then had to scramble to get up and get ready for my shift at the restaurant that night, because naptime hadn’t been planned, but my body was obviously in need of some rest after the paces it had been put through the night before. I don’t think I had ever had the kind of sex that left you feeling it long after, all over, everywhere, before. That alone was enough reason to be leery of getting into anything deeper with Race. A girl could quickly become addicted to that feeling, and there was no place in my life right now for a frivolous addiction.
I was running down the stairs, trying to pin the front of my hair out of my face with a bobby pin, when I noticed that my dad had made his way home finally. He was pacing between the kitchen and the living room, his phone pressed to his ear, while my mom sat on the couch and watched him with glassy eyes. She didn’t look like she had been drinking, but the calm from this afternoon was gone from her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked the question not really expecting an honest answer from either of them.
My dad held up a hand and I looked at my mom, who just ignored me. I wanted to throttle them both.
I was going to just keep going, let them stew in the broth of unease and discontentment that always seemed to fill the air inside of this house, when my dad caught my wrist as I reached the front door. I looked at him in surprise and shook him loose. His grip was way harder than it needed to be, and up close there was a scary kind of desperation swirling in his gaze that made me nervous.
“Brysen, I need you to let me use your car for a few days.”
I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. I had given up everything to come home, to be here for Karsen. The only things I had left were my car and school. The things I had to work my butt off to keep.
“No way. I have to go to work and I’m not taking the bus or finding a ride. What’s wrong with the Lexus?”
My mom didn’t drive anymore. She had lost her license after the accident but Dad had managed to hold on to a nice Lexus SUV.
He scowled at me and looked at his phone as it started ringing again.
“It’s in the shop for a couple days. Stop being selfish. I provide for this family, not you. I need your car.”
I laughed again but this time I almost choked on it.
“No.” This wasn’t an argument I was going to have. My car was not something I was going to give up, it was seriously the last tie to any kind of freedom I had. I would rather lick the bottom of my shoe than be stuck in this house with no viable way to get anywhere else. Plus I worked my tail off to keep my car; he wasn’t going to get away with trying to make me feel bad about not handing it over to him.
I pulled the door open and marched out of the house without looking back. I heard him follow me and looked over my shoulder to see my mom hovering uncertainly in the doorway. As soon as she could, I knew she was going to grab a bottle and that being alone in the house while Dad locked himself in the office was a major trigger for her. I couldn’t work up any concern about it, it was too commonplace now. I was mad, really mad, and when my dad reached for my arm again I actually slapped his hand away, which had him drawing back from me with a scowl.
“Stop it. I’m not giving you my car, Dad. You can take the bus, or walk, or I don’t know—hire a rickshaw. I’m not letting you make something else my problem.”
“I haven’t made anything your problem, Brysen.”
“Really? Like letting Mom trash the kitchen and not doing anything to stop her or bothering to make sure Karsen was okay isn’t making something my problem? Or how about the fact Mom doesn’t go anywhere, Dad, yet she always somehow manages to have a bottle of booze on hand? That’s not my problem either, right?”
I shook my head and stalked to the BMW. They were things I had wanted to say to him for a long time, and there was more, so much more, but I could see by the stubborn tilt of his chin and the way his eyes narrowed at the edges that he was only hearing my refusal to hand over my keys. It was the same old story, neither he nor my mother had any idea how hard being here was for me, and they obviously were both too caught up in their own misery and regrettable decision making to care. Which was exactly why I couldn’t leave Karsen alone in the house, whether she was going to need me forever or not.
“Just be smart, don’t do anything stupid while you’re out tonight, okay?”
“I never do, Brysen.”
I wished I could say the same thing. She left me to my own devices, and I finished a project I had, looked over my Math Theory notes, and somewhere in there fell asleep for a few minutes. I then had to scramble to get up and get ready for my shift at the restaurant that night, because naptime hadn’t been planned, but my body was obviously in need of some rest after the paces it had been put through the night before. I don’t think I had ever had the kind of sex that left you feeling it long after, all over, everywhere, before. That alone was enough reason to be leery of getting into anything deeper with Race. A girl could quickly become addicted to that feeling, and there was no place in my life right now for a frivolous addiction.
I was running down the stairs, trying to pin the front of my hair out of my face with a bobby pin, when I noticed that my dad had made his way home finally. He was pacing between the kitchen and the living room, his phone pressed to his ear, while my mom sat on the couch and watched him with glassy eyes. She didn’t look like she had been drinking, but the calm from this afternoon was gone from her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked the question not really expecting an honest answer from either of them.
My dad held up a hand and I looked at my mom, who just ignored me. I wanted to throttle them both.
I was going to just keep going, let them stew in the broth of unease and discontentment that always seemed to fill the air inside of this house, when my dad caught my wrist as I reached the front door. I looked at him in surprise and shook him loose. His grip was way harder than it needed to be, and up close there was a scary kind of desperation swirling in his gaze that made me nervous.
“Brysen, I need you to let me use your car for a few days.”
I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. I had given up everything to come home, to be here for Karsen. The only things I had left were my car and school. The things I had to work my butt off to keep.
“No way. I have to go to work and I’m not taking the bus or finding a ride. What’s wrong with the Lexus?”
My mom didn’t drive anymore. She had lost her license after the accident but Dad had managed to hold on to a nice Lexus SUV.
He scowled at me and looked at his phone as it started ringing again.
“It’s in the shop for a couple days. Stop being selfish. I provide for this family, not you. I need your car.”
I laughed again but this time I almost choked on it.
“No.” This wasn’t an argument I was going to have. My car was not something I was going to give up, it was seriously the last tie to any kind of freedom I had. I would rather lick the bottom of my shoe than be stuck in this house with no viable way to get anywhere else. Plus I worked my tail off to keep my car; he wasn’t going to get away with trying to make me feel bad about not handing it over to him.
I pulled the door open and marched out of the house without looking back. I heard him follow me and looked over my shoulder to see my mom hovering uncertainly in the doorway. As soon as she could, I knew she was going to grab a bottle and that being alone in the house while Dad locked himself in the office was a major trigger for her. I couldn’t work up any concern about it, it was too commonplace now. I was mad, really mad, and when my dad reached for my arm again I actually slapped his hand away, which had him drawing back from me with a scowl.
“Stop it. I’m not giving you my car, Dad. You can take the bus, or walk, or I don’t know—hire a rickshaw. I’m not letting you make something else my problem.”
“I haven’t made anything your problem, Brysen.”
“Really? Like letting Mom trash the kitchen and not doing anything to stop her or bothering to make sure Karsen was okay isn’t making something my problem? Or how about the fact Mom doesn’t go anywhere, Dad, yet she always somehow manages to have a bottle of booze on hand? That’s not my problem either, right?”
I shook my head and stalked to the BMW. They were things I had wanted to say to him for a long time, and there was more, so much more, but I could see by the stubborn tilt of his chin and the way his eyes narrowed at the edges that he was only hearing my refusal to hand over my keys. It was the same old story, neither he nor my mother had any idea how hard being here was for me, and they obviously were both too caught up in their own misery and regrettable decision making to care. Which was exactly why I couldn’t leave Karsen alone in the house, whether she was going to need me forever or not.
