Her lashes blink hard as she considers my words. “You had dinner? With Dad?”
“That’s what I said.”
“What about Mom?” she snaps, waving angrily toward Mom’s room.
I let out a harsh breath of air, shrugging. “It’s not like she cares anymore anyway.”
My words may as well have slapped Carrie because she stumbles back, holding her hand over her mouth as tears fill her blue eyes that look just like mine.
“She’s depressed, asshole.” She swipes away a tear that escapes before poking me hard in the middle of my chest. “But that’s what the men in this family do, huh? When shit gets tough, they bail.”
“Carrie, that’s enough—”
“You’re right. It is. I’ll find my own ride tomorrow.”
With those words, she storms into her room, slamming the door behind her. I wait for Mom to get up to see what the commotion is about, but the house is silent.
I walk down the hall and peek in on our mother. She’s sleeping peacefully in the same position as before. Bending over, I plant a kiss on her head and turn off the television.
“Night, Mom.”
“Night, Canny.”
I cringe as I stand in the dark and listen to her soft breathing. Did she hear Carrie’s and my argument? Does she think I’m a traitor too?
Guilt is a stifling cloud around me. I suck in a sharp breath and bolt from her room. It isn’t until I’m lying face down on my bed that my heart and erratic thoughts begin to calm. By one in the morning, I realize I haven’t messaged Naomi to tell her good night.
But then I think about what an asshole I was to her earlier today. She’s still pissed, hence why there’s no text waiting for me. With a heavy sigh, I toss my phone away from me. My thoughts drift from the girl who deserves better than my moody ass to someone else.
Taunting, dark brown eyes mock me from behind my lids as sleep overtakes me.
Fucking Alister Sommers.
He may not have been the one to start this shit—that’s on Dad and always will be—but it’s him who will end it because I’m committed to destroying him.
And once I’ve broken them all, I can fix Mom.
Carrie too.
Maybe even me.
Alister
Today, I’m ready for him.
I’ll be damned if I let this guy catch me off guard ever again. He thinks because he’s bigger than me and king of the school that he’ll waltz right into my life, fuck it up, and move along on his merry little way.
Fuck that.
And fuck him.
I’m waiting by the door of our first hour, eager to poke the bear like he spent all day yesterday doing to me when my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and frown to see the unknown number again.
Unknown Number: Won’t be long now.
Laughter distracts me from the message. I follow the sounds to see Canyon walking toward me. His phone is in hand, and he’s smiling at it. Naomi walks beside him, a frown marring her face. He doesn’t notice when she speeds up, leaving him by himself.
“Really?” she mutters as she passes me.
I bristle at her judgmental tone. I’m not the one who started this shit. It was her beastly boyfriend. Naomi Young can look down at me all she wants, but I refuse to be the bigger man while her asshole boyfriend stomps all over me.
She disappears into the classroom, and Canyon finally realizes Naomi is nowhere in sight. The smile on his face is wiped away, and he pockets his phone. As soon as his blue eyes notice me, his blank expression turns into a dark scowl.
“Trouble in paradise?” I say in a chipper greeting. “Did you tell her about last night?”
His face burns bright red, which only serves to make me laugh. I knew this would work. I just didn’t know it would be so easy.
“Nothing happened last night,” he bites back, his voice low.
“I meant the fight with your dad.” I lift a brow at him. “I didn’t mean the part where you took your shirt off for me and let me use you for my art.”
As expected, he goes off.
His massive hands grab my shirt, and he shoves me against the wall. Electric blue eyes sear into me. I’m taken aback by his scent—a cologne I’ve salivated over one too many times when I’ve gone to Hollister at the mall. Come to think of it, Canyon is a poster boy for that store. He should really look into modeling.
“I know what you’re doing,” he growls. “You’re flirting with me to piss me off.”
“It’s working beautifully.”
His nostrils flare. “It won’t work.”
“It already has, bro.”
“No,” he murmurs, his voice going husky and making all the hairs on my arms stand on end. “All it does is make you look like a desperate queer aching for the dick of someone he can’t have.” The fury melts away as he gives me an arrogant lift of his chin. “Imagine how disappointed your daddy would be in you if he knew you were trying to get into my pants.”