Author: Estelle Maskame
Category: Romance
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/10329_42
And just like that, all of my senses snap back into function. My vision clears, my hearing sharpens. Fury takes over me, and just before Tiffani disappears through the gate, I growl, “You bitch!”
“Tyler,” I hear that voice say again, and it is Mom’s. I glance over to her. She is standing by the patio doors with Dave by her side, both of them staring at me in disbelief. Mom looks pale, her gaze agonizing, a hand pressed to her chest. “Please tell me I misheard that,” she says, her voice pleading. “Please, please tell me you’re not.”
I can’t look at anyone. Not Dave, not Mom, not Eden. What do they all think of me now? I’m ashamed of myself. I’m embarrassed. I’ve let them down. I can’t hurt them even more by lying, by denying it all. They deserve honesty from me right now. It’s the least I can give them. I tilt my head down to the ground and close my eyes. “I wish I wasn’t,” I say quietly, and my eyes sting with tears.
The shocked gasp Mom lets out pierces straight through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut even harder. It breaks my heart to put her through this, but letting her down is all I ever do. This time, though, it’s worse. She already knew I smoked, and although she didn’t approve, she knows it wasn’t the end of the world. But the coke . . . She didn’t know about that. And she definitely didn’t know that I’ve been dealing for the past few weeks. It’s the ultimate low point of my life, and I feel like the absolute worst son in the world right now.
Finally, I force myself to look up from the grass, to face my consequences. I see Eden first. She is staring straight at me, her expression horrified, and I have to look away just as quickly again. I’ve let her down too, and my guilt only presses down on me even harder. I look at Mom now, but her face is buried into Dave’s chest as he holds her tight while she sobs. He is rubbing her back, his intense eyes narrowed at me.
Plan B - SteamyCheck out the best interactive novels on Whispers: Interactive stories.
“Mom, don’t cry,” I murmur, but my voice is cracked and weak. “I’m not, like, addicted or anything. I just—well, it helps,” I quietly admit. It’s the truth. It does help. It lets me forget about my history, about Dad, for a few hours.
Mom tries to say something, but her voice is muffled against Dave’s shirt and she’s still crying so hard that her words are unintelligible. She is devastated, and it’s all because of me. I inflict this on her. I’m the one who keeps hurting her.
“Mom, breathe for a sec,” I say gently, and I slowly head across the yard toward her. She’s still huddled against Dave, but I place my hand on her shoulder, begging her to look at me. I need her to listen to me. I need her to forgive me.
But Mom only shakes my hand off her shoulder, then finally lifts her head to look at me. Through her tears, her eyes meet mine. “I said,” she whispers, “get out.”
“What?”
“Get out of this house.”
My blood runs cold again; a second punch to the gut. She’s . . . She’s kicking me out of the house? We’ve reached her breaking point. I’ve finally pushed her too far. She can’t handle me anymore, and if only I had been better, if only I had tried harder, then it would have never come to this. My heart is breaking into a million pieces, cutting through my chest. “Are you serious?”
Mom removes herself from Dave’s embrace and turns to face me. She is heartbroken. “Tyler, please,” she says, but her eyes well up all over again and a new wave of tears flow down her rosy cheeks. It pains me to see Mom cry, and it hurts even more knowing that I’m the reason why. “Just leave. I can’t handle this anymore.”
I am stunned into silence. Dave draws Mom back to him again, holding her tightly, offering her the support she needs. My gaze travels to Eden. She is still watching everything unfold in front of her and her plump lips are parted wide, her eyes even wider. Does she hate me now? Am I losing her too?
I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined everything. I’ve let everyone down.
I can’t look at anyone. My shame is too much. That’s why I keep my head down as I admit defeat, as I shove my hands anxiously into my pockets and force my frozen limbs to move. I brush past Mom and Dave as I head inside the house, and I am praying with everything in me that Mom will say my name, call me back and tell me that she didn’t mean it. That I don’t have to leave. That she still loves me despite how many mistakes I’ve made.
But she doesn’t say anything at all. This is really it.
There is bile rising in my stomach as I cross the kitchen and I feel lightheaded. I can’t process any of this. I’m . . . I’m a fucking drug dealer who has just become homeless and whose girlfriend is pregnant. I am officially at rock bottom. I can’t handle this. I don’t know how to. I’m so lost. How am I supposed to fix all of this now? How am I going to ever recover from this?
I break out into a sprint down the hall and upstairs, but I can hear footsteps behind me. I already know that it’s Eden without even glancing over my shoulder. She’s the only person who would follow me right now, but I wish she wouldn’t. I don’t know what to say to her. What answers to give.
Jamie and Chase are at the top of the staircase, staring wide-eyed back at me as I push past them. Have they been listening? Have I let them down too? I can’t even face my brothers. I want to hide from the world, to completely disappear. If only it were that easy.
Eden follows me into my room and I close the door behind us. I like that she’s here. It gives me hope that maybe she still believes in me. I know she’ll be disappointed, though, so I can’t look at her either right now. I am too distracted by the fact that Mom needs me to leave this house. That I’m no longer welcome to live under this roof.
I grab my duffel bag from my closet and stuff it with the first clothes that come to hand. I can’t even think straight. Everything feels so numb as I fumble around my closet for shirts. Am I leaving for good? Will Mom ever let me come back? I just don’t know. I pack the bag with as many clothes as I can until it’s completely full, just in case.
“Where are you going to go?” I hear Eden’s husky voice cut through the silence. It’s laced with worry, and as I slide the strap of my bag onto my shoulder, I finally glance up. My terrified gaze meets hers. She looks as sick as I feel; even she knows that I’ve ruined everything. My guilt returns, so I look away again. If I look at her for too long, I think I’ll break down, and I am trying so hard not to.
“I have no idea,” I say, but my throat is so dry. There’s so many thoughts racing through my head as I head into my bathroom. Where am I supposed to go? I’m just a kid. I don’t know how to deal with all of this. It’s too much. “Dean’s. Maybe. I don’t know. My head’s a mess.”
There’s a brief silence, and then from behind me, Eden’s quiet voice asks, “You’ve started dealing?”
Now isn’t the time for lying. She needs the truth, but it’s so hard to admit it. I grip the sink with both hands and release the breath I’m holding. My back is still to her, and I keep my head down, my eyes on the floor. “Only recently.”
“Why?” she asks. Her voice is so low, so quiet. It’s a simple question, but it holds the weight of the world. I don’t even know what the answer really is.
“It’s easy to . . . to get wrapped up in it all,” I admit. I don’t know how I can still speak at this point. My head is pounding, my stomach is in knots, my hands are beginning to tremble. “Tiffani’s so mad. She’ll probably try to report me, I just know it.”
“I can’t believe she’s . . .” Eden murmurs, but even she can’t say the word.
“Me either,” I say as I reach up to open the cabinet above me, but then the reality of the situation hits me at full force.
Tiffani is pregnant. I can’t . . . I can’t be a dad. I’m only seventeen. I’m not in a healthy mental state. Dad became a father at seventeen, and look how that turned out. I can’t be him. I can’t do this. At least Mom and Dad actually loved each other. Tiffani and I are toxic.
I’m going to throw up. Quickly, I spin around and bend over the toilet, heaving. I’m grabbing the wall for support, my stomach burning, but yet nothing comes up. “Fuck,” I breath
e.
“I don’t know what to say, Tyler,” Eden admits as she moves closer to me. She soothingly rubs my back as I remain huddled over the toilet, breathing deeply. “Where does this leave us?”
“What?”
“Us,” she says again, and I sense her swallow. When she speaks again, her tone has grown cautious, like she is treading deep water. “What’s going to happen with us? You and Tiffani?”
I almost hurl again, but still nothing. I exhale and straighten up, but my head is spinning so fast that it’s making me dizzy. I think I might just faint any moment. “I don’t know,” I say as I turn back to look at Eden. She is full of fear, and so am I. Right now, though, I just can’t think about my relationship with her. I need to find someplace to stay, and I need to talk to Tiffani. I’ll fix the rest later. “I need to figure all of this out first.”
“I don’t know either,” she says, and her shoulders slump low while her eyes fall to the floor.
I move back to the sink, reaching up into the cabinet and shoving my toiletries into my bag. I need to get out of here. I need to leave. It’s what Mom wants, and I don’t deserve the chance to even beg for her forgiveness.
“Please take them,” Eden says, and I see her nodding back at something inside the cabinet. She gives me a small, tight smile that is full of sadness. “You won’t feel so down all the time.”
I follow her gaze and realize that she is talking about my antidepressants. The bottles of pills are still on the top shelf of the cabinet, untouched for days, and a lump forms in my throat. I rarely ever take them. There are other drugs out there that make me feel much better, though they’re not the legal kind. I don’t think I’ve ever needed a hit as much as I do right now, but I’m fighting the urge. I can’t let my life spiral even more out of control than it already has, so I give in to Eden. I reach for the bottles and tuck them into my bag. I can’t guarantee that I’ll take them, but I’ll try. For her, for myself.
I look back at Eden, at the girl that I’ve fallen in love with. Despite everything that has been revealed, she is still standing in front of me now. She still cares about me, despite how much I’ve let her down. I wish I could have given her more. She is too good for me, and I don’t deserve her.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her in close to me. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my chin atop her head, fighting back the tears that are brimming in my eyes. Her body molds so perfectly into mine and I don’t know why I’ve never just hugged her before, because it feels so good embracing someone so tightly, feeling their affection. She buries her face into my chest, wrapping her arms around my back. It’s almost like a goodbye. I hold her for a long time, absorbing her warmth, wishing that I didn’t have to let go.
I move my lips to her forehead and kiss her skin. “I’ll figure it out,” I whisper, squeezing her tighter before I finally let go. I don’t want to leave her. I wish she knew how sorry I am.
I give her a small, final nod and brush past her. It is almost like torture having to walk over to my door, to leave. If I look back at her, I’ll break down. I’ll collapse. So I keep my head down as I leave my room, my lower lip quivering.
“I really hope you do,” I hear Eden whisper after me, and my tears finally break free.
57
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
The wave of terror and panic that fills me is paralyzing, but then a sense of calm quickly follows. Everything within me suddenly goes still. Dad won’t be able to hurt me anymore. It will all be over. No more lying. No more excuses. No more pain. And that . . . That is all I so desperately want.
Suddenly, I long for it. For all of this to be over, for Dad to just hit me harder, to wrap his hands around my throat that little bit tighter, to finally end it once and for all. And I think he will.
It’s almost peaceful, the thought of not being here anymore. The thought of safety.
I hope Mom will be okay. I love her so much. I’ll miss her. I really don’t want her to cry too much, because I don’t like it when she’s sad.
And I hope Jamie and Chase won’t miss me too much. They can keep the PlayStation 2 in their room forever now. They’ll be okay.
And Dad . . . I hope he’s sorry. I hope he suffers for the rest of his life, from the guilt and the pain, and I hope he realizes just how much I have suffered for the past four years. It’s tragic. My dad, the person who always tells me how much he loves me, the person I was supposed to look up to, the person who was supposed to keep me safe, is the person who I am dying at the hands of.
I am drifting, following the darkness and all of the peace that comes with it.
I am letting go now.
58
PRESENT DAY
My pulse is racing as I wait for someone to answer the door, and every second that passes feels like an eternity. It’s late. The streetlights are casting an orange glow down the street, breaking through the darkness. The soft breeze in the air cools the skin of my neck and I tilt my head down, my hand on the strap of the bag that’s resting on my shoulder.
It has been a long day. I’ve been parked down on the oceanfront until now, staring out over the water for hours, trying to get my thoughts in order. It would have been so easy . . . so, so fucking easy to call up Declan Portwood. My life is in turmoil, and all I wanted was to forget about it, even just for a few hours. But I fought against the urge. Even deleted Declan’s number from my phone. I needed to be better than that. I needed to figure out where I was supposed to go. I thought about heading to Dean’s place. I’d have been welcome there, for sure. But it slowly became clear to me that there really was only one place I should go, and that’s why I’m standing on Tiffani’s porch now. Despite how much tension there is between us, we really need to talk. We have gotten ourselves into this mess together, and I’m not going to let her deal with it on her own.
Suddenly, I hear the click of the door unlocking, and slowly the door cracks open a few inches. My gaze flicks up to meet Tiffani’s blue eyes as she peers at me through the crack in the door, and she lets out a soft breath of air.
“Tyler,” she says.
“Tiff,” I whisper, and as she swings the door open fully, I close the distance between us, dropping my bag to the floor and collapsing into her arms. She embraces me, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight. My head is hung low, buried into the crook of her neck, one hand woven into her hair. I squeeze my eyes shut, grinding my teeth together as I fight to hold myself together. Tyler Bruce is long gone. I am just me these days, and I don’t even care if Tiffani sees how broken I am.
“Come upstairs,” she murmurs into my ear. “We’ll talk.”
I nod against her shoulder before I pull away, and she slides her hand into mine. She guides me across the hall and up the marble staircase toward her room, but even my steps are slow and lethargic. All of my energy has been completely drained out of me. I’m not even sure if I’m ready to have this conversation with Tiffani. It’s too heavy a subject.
There is tension bubbling between us as we enter her room. The silence is almost making me nauseous, and I don’t even know where to begin. There is just so much to say . . . so much to figure out. I let go of Tiffani’s hand and sit down on the edge of her bed, interlocking my hands between my knees. She stands in the center of her room in her shorts and tank top, anxiously touching the ends of her hair, but I just can’t look at her.
“My mom kicked me out,” I say, breaking the silence. My eyes are still so swollen, and it hurts every time I blink.
“I’m sorry,” Tiffani says, but then she heaves a sigh. She crosses the room and sits down on the bed next to me, her thigh touching mine. “Actually, I’m not,” she admits, and I can feel her blue eyes boring intensely into me. Yet I still can’t look up to meet her gaze. “You . . . You’ve been cheating on me, Tyler.”
“I know,” I say, swallowing hard. I think her initial anger has worn off, because right now, she just sounds hurt. The guilt returns, reminding me once more that I handled all of
this in the worst way possible. I shouldn’t have let Tiffani control me. I should have ended things with her, no matter what the consequences were, and then I wouldn’t have had to go behind her back with Eden. I shouldn’t have been so selfish, either. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, and my apology is sincere. Finally, I look at her, and she looks defeated. I’ve never seen her like this before. Her nasty streak is completely gone, and now all that’s left is a heartbroken girl. “I just . . . I have this thing with Eden,” I mumble, fumbling with my hands. “I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tiffani.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she says, shaking her head slowly. She presses her hands to her forehead and runs her fingers back into her hair, taking a deep breath. “We need to put that behind us, because we have . . . We have a bigger issue.”
“Are you . . .” I can’t even say it. It makes my stomach churn, and I even move my hand to my mouth. “Are you really . . . ?”
Tiffani drops her hands from her face and turns to look at me. I look up at her too, and finally, our gazes lock. Her features are twisting, her lip is quivering, her blue eyes are glistening with new tears. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” she whispers, and it’s like the moment she first broke the news all over again. It’s like everything inside of me is shutting down.
“But how?” I splutter, angling my body toward her, shaking my head fast in disbelief. It’s not possible. We’re careful. We always have been. “You’re on birth control.”
“I guess I missed a couple pills. I don’t know,” Tiffani says, but her words become frantic and full of panic. She gets to her feet, her hands back in her hair, pacing the floor in front of me. “I’m scared out of my fucking mind,” she admits, and she bursts into tears.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, standing. I reach out for her, grabbing her wrists and moving her hands away from her face. Without letting go, I tilt my head down so that I am eye level with her. “It’s okay,” I say again, my voice firm. We are both breathless, both freaking the hell out. Neither of us knows what the hell we’re doing, and what I don’t tell her is that I am terrified too. “We’ll figure it out. Not you, not me. Us,” I reassure her, blurting out my words too fast. “Okay?”