Page 87 of Mommy

“Thats not what I—” I stop halfway through my statement to repeat my question. “Did you fuck her?”

Derek’s eyes turn into ice, narrowing on me with an expression I’ve never seen on him.

“What is it, Ivory? Are you jealous because she is a female? Is that it?”

His voice is hard, unforgiving and I have to clench my teeth to keep the tears back that already form behind my eyes.

That’s not it.

It really isn’t.

I don’t care about her.

She isn’t the reason I’m worried. She isn’t the reason I feel like this; sticky and uncomfortable.

And hurt.

It’s his reaction. That pissed off tone and the immediate anger just because I asked that’s making my skin crawl with unease. The fact that he closed off in 0.2 seconds and still refuses to give me an answer; that’s why I feel like this is not just a random girl from the gym, or even a friend. Because who would get this angry over a friend?

I press my teeth together, once again forcing a smile to split my lips. It feels like a cracking mask on my face, but I know it looks perfect. I’ve faked enough smiles to know when I’m tripping. And right now, I’m not.

This is exactly what I’ve felt a million times before.

“It’s alright,” I hate how my voice already breaks after the first two words but I force my tongue to keep on going. “Once you get used to being a second choice, it doesn’t hurt that bad anymore.”

I want the words to be true. Gods; I wish I wasn’t lying through my teeth because then my heart wouldn’t break.

I wanted to be his first choice.

For the first time in my life I wanted to be someone’s first choice. I wanted to be the one picked out of every line up and feel like I mattered.

I wanted Derek to love me the way my father never did, I wanted him to make me a priority the way my mother never could.

I wanted to be the only choice for him.

But I’m not. I’m not even second place, I’m just a name, a placeholder, someone to play house with until someone better comes along.

My lungs refuse to take in air, so all I manage next is a sob that shows exactly how broken and hurt I am. I hate that he sees it.

I want to be strong and so I do the only thing I can think of.

I smile.

Tears already lining my eyes, threatening to drip from my lashes every second; I smile.

It’s not until Derek has gotten up from his chair that the first salty drop falls from my lashes. I can hear the front door slam and a few heartbeats later the engine of his bike roars to life.

And I’m left behind to clean up the mess. Not the one on the table but the one he left behind between us.

Why did I have to ask?

Why do I always have to break things?

Chapter forty six

Derek

I grumble into the inside of my helmet as I make my way to the bike.