“Today sucks,” I mutter because I don’t know what else to say, but she must agree because she doesn’t chastise my language or the negativity in my voice.
“It’s almost over,” she says.
“We still have that thing at Mrs. Jacobson’s,” I remind her.
Her head starts to shake before I finish. “This is the most I can do. I can’t go over there.”
I sigh, hoping my irritation is low enough that she didn’t hear it. I don’t want to go either, but it’s clear she’s made up her mind. How shitty would it be if neither one of us showed up?
As much as I’d like to just drive around or hide in my bedroom, I know I can’t do that to Mrs. Jacobson. She’s allowing me to keep my job even though I’ll only be able to work part-time hours when school starts next week, and I don’t want to do anything to upset her. She knows my mom has never worked outside of the home since she married my dad and it may take a while to find work.
“I’ll go,” I tell my mother.
The graveside service is a misery of its own. With the heat and no breeze to speak of, I’m sweating through my suit before it’s over. I have to walk away before they begin lowering Dad’s casket into its final resting place, not strong enough to watch it. Mom doesn’t leave until after the final attendee walks back to their own car, and I think she’d stay forever if it weren’t for the funeral director urging her back to the town car so the remainder of the dirt can be filled in.
Her eyes glisten with tears as she climbs inside with me, but she doesn’t say a word. Not when we grab my truck from the funeral home parking lot. Not when I drop her back home, only staying long enough to change into some jeans and a thinner shirt. Not when I ask her if she needs anything before heading over to Mrs. Jacobson’s. She doesn’t even smile when I bring home enough food to feed three families a couple of hours later.
She needs time. We both do, but that doesn’t keep my heart from hurting a little more when her silence follows me to my room.
I was right when I voiced my concerns out loud to my father even though he couldn’t hear me. I don’t know how we’re going to do this without him. It’s only been three days, and we’re already broken beyond repair.Chapter 28Frankie
“This is weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Piper argues as Dalton pulls her closer.
We’re in her bedroom, them sitting on her bed and me on the floor in front of her bedroom mirror.
“So this is real then?” I wave my arm back and forth indicating the two of them.
Piper looks over her shoulder at the guy who treated her like shit for more years than I can count, but instead of vitriol and pure hatred in her eyes, they shine with love and passion. Just the sight of them looking at each other makes my stomach turn.
“So real,” Dalton whispers, but I can tell he only has eyes for her.
He hasn’t said a word to me other than a quick hello when I first arrived.
“Tell me about Utah,” my best friend urges when she finally takes a break from ogling her new boyfriend.
“I’m not talking about Utah.”
Now I have her full attention. Piper doesn’t hide the look of worry on her face. “What happened?”
“I’m not talking about Utah,” I repeat.
“Not talking about Utah or not talking about Zeke?” she clarifies.
“Neither. I’d ask what you two have been up to all summer, but I don’t want the details.”
Piper’s cheeks heat, turning a rosy pink the way they always do when she’s embarrassed, and that’s all the confirmation I need. Seems I’m not the only one to have given up my V-card this summer. Only Dalton has his arms wrapped around my best friend like he never wants to let her go and Zeke couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Regardless of the light shining in his eyes, I can’t bring myself to fully trust him. I can’t wrap my head around the possibility that one single car accident took away all the evil that was put on display often from this guy. He tortured both of us, Piper more than me, and I’m sure there are numerous times he or his shitty friends did something and she didn’t tell me about it.
But even as I think these thoughts, I know Zeke was worse. Until the accident, Dalton never had a kind word for either of us. He stayed true to his torture like it was his life’s mission.
Zeke, on the other hand, would draw me in with kind words and soft touches before shattering me with malice and pain. Until recently, Piper knew what she was getting from Dalton. I never knew which hat Zeke was wearing, and even though I should’ve predicted how that last night was going to happen, it still hurt more than I want to admit waking up alone in that cold barn.