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“Please?” Mallory whined.
I let out a defeated sigh. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not without an explanation, and I knew I didn’t have one. “Fine.”
Dad and Mallory exchanged triumphant grins.
I knew my friend couldn’t understand why I did not want to work with my father. After seeing only a handful of interactions between the two of us, she’d decided that I was “mean” to him. I hated hearing that. Dad and I had always been close, and we’d often dreamed about what it would be like to run the family business together once I was old enough. Now, I wanted nothing to do with the bakery—or him. It was difficult being cold toward him. But it was even harder pretending everything was okay.
Though I was relieved to be twelve hundred miles away from John and Tommy, I still looked over my shoulder everywhere I went. I’d been traumatized, and I carried the constant reminder around on my arm in the form of a cast. I hoped the paranoia would go away in time.
And I hoped it would take the resentment toward my father with it.
Two
Tanner
Another shitty lunch in this shitty cafeteria of this shitty school. But I needed to get away. Away from my job. Away from my family. Working at my parents’ auto body shop had its perks, but those perks were diminishing right along with my father’s health. Being here with friends was something that could take my mind off everything for a while, even if they acted like jackasses. I used to find them funny. I didn’t find anything funny anymore.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Charlotte. Her blond hair, like strands of gold, caught my attention when she walked through the door. It was rare for anybody to have blonde hair on Staten Island. It was also rare for anyone to have a face like hers. Beautiful. Flawless. Oh, shit. She’s walking toward me. I put my phone down and my back straightened in my seat.
“Thank you.” She held my neatly folded shirt out in front of her. “I washed it. I hope you don’t mind. I followed the proper care instructions on the tag.”
I raised an eyebrow. Did she seriously think I gave a shit if she washed it? “You didn’t have to return it.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to keep it.”
“Why not? Probably looks better on you.” The image of Charlotte in my shirt and nothing else flashed through my mind.
“I don’t need it. I have lots of shirts. I mean, not from other guys. I just mean that I have … my own … shirts … like, in a closet. I bought them … with my own money.”
She’s nervous. What was it about me that made her nervous? I hoped it was because she found me attractive, and not because she’d heard what I did to Jimmy Panico. Mostly everybody has been scared of me since that day. I don’t want this girl to be scared of me.
“Good. I’m glad you have lots of shirts. I like the one you’re wearing.” I lowered my gaze to her perky tits sticking out of the top of her neckline. They weren’t big, but they were perfectly shaped and bouncy. I’d been thinking about how they would feel in my hands since I saw them outlined through her wet shirt yesterday. Clearly it had been too long since I’d been with a chick if that’s all it took to get me going.
She looked down at her tank top, and her cheeks flushed. I’d embarrassed her. She was definitely not like any of the girls I had known. Most of them wanted their tits to be stared at.
“Okay, bye.” She turned and walked away.
I could feel the corners of my mouth tugging upward. It had been so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to smile. I wanted to run after her. I wanted to ask how she broke her arm. I wanted to ask why her eyes looked so sad. I wanted to know everything and anything I could about her.
Then, I heard Gabe call her name. Her face brightened when he spoke to her. Her face didn’t do that while she was talking to me. It was probably best that I didn’t try to pursue things any further with her. I was a piece of shit, and she was an angel. Gabe wasn’t good enough for her either—I wasn’t sure who would be—but at least he wasn’t fucked up like me.
I dumped my tray and headed back to work. My brother was on me as soon as I walked through the garage door of the shop ten minutes later.
“You’re late,” Chase called from his side of the garage.
“Yeah, well, you were gone for two fucking years. I’m allowed an extra five minutes for lunch.”
“When are you going to let that go?”
“When are you going to get off my ass?”
Silence.
My self-righteous older brother had returned from California not too long ago. I wish he hadn’t. He was a pain in my fucking ass. I was angry at him for leaving to pursue his dream while I was stuck here. Now, I’m even angrier he returned. Chase being home is yet another reminder of our depressing reality: Dad is dying.
I needed to drown out my thoughts. I reached into my toolbox for my earbuds and stuffed them into my ears. Turning up the music on my iPod, I shoved it into my pocket and got back to work. Burying myself in work was just about the only thing I could do at this point.
Later that afternoon, Mom left to take Dad to another doctor’s appointment. Chase went home for the night. I liked being here alone. I preferred solitude. I was in the front office getting ready to close out the register when the door opened. Fuck me. I forgot to flip the sign to Closed.
