Seriously. What the hell? How am I supposed to help her if she won’t even talk to me? And what the fuck did she mean by saying she already gave up?
I swallow hard and blink back tears. My life is so fucked up right now, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m drowning and suffocating, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to get sucked up or killed.
And Mom… what if Father doesn’t want to drag her back home? What if he tries to find her specifically to kill her?
My entire body is trembling. I can’t handle this. I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Hey, are you all right?”
I wince and shake my head, not wanting to have to deal with Gabe Pendleton right now.
His hands land on my shoulders, and he guides me to turn around, forcing me to look at him. There’s compassion in his green eyes, something I haven’ seen before.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Who were you on the phone with? They clearly upset you.”
“You don’t need to worry about anything related to me,” I spit out. “I just want to be left alone right now.”
“Sometimes it’s best to be with someone. I can help distract you—”
“Why?” I scowl. “Why do you care that I’m hurting? I thought you hated me.”
“I wouldn’t say that I hate you.”
“Why not? You should. I don’t…” I bite my tongue to stop me from confessing about what I did to his bike. It’s not worth getting into.
“You’ve ridden on Rob’s bike, right?” he asks. “That’s nothing. He’s so tame. Let me take you out for a spin. I’ll pop wheelies and everything.”
“Dude, I don’t want anything to do with anyone right now,” I spit out, “especially not you or any of the Grim Reapers. I hate motorcycle clubs and all assholes who think they can do whatever the hell they want and everyone else be damned.”
“You hate everyone who’s in a motorcycle club?” he asks. “Why?”
“Didn’t I just say why? Because you all think you can do whatever you want, and that’s bullshit.”
“I’ll admit that maybe we’ve gone a little too far as far as you’re concerned, but I’m willing to do whatever it is that you need, and if you want me to be your punching bag, that’s fine. Go ahead.”
I narrow my eyes. “The only punching bag I need is one that I can beat the absolute shit out of, and unless you want me to kick and punch you, I suggest you get the hell out of my way.”
Gabe holds out his arms and then motions for me to come at him, but I won’t. I can’t. I really don’t want anything to do with him, and I’m done. So done. With absolutely everything.
I stalk away from him, and thankfully, he doesn’t follow me or call after me, but when I glance over my shoulder, he’s watching me, and even though I’m a good distance from him already, I can still see the concern etched in his handsome features.
And I hate seeing that. He doesn’t know how terrible I was to him. It’s too much of a stretch to believe that he doesn’t know about my spray painting his bike, but he doesn’t know what I wrote. If he did, he would hate me. I didn’t deserve his anger and hatred before, but from the way Ace reacted, Gabe would have had some serious reason for hating me if he knew what I had put. Maybe one day, I’ll learn, but I don’t really deserve to. I’m a terrible person, and I hate myself for so many reasons, most of all for sending my mom so far away.
I need to help her. I must help her.
Only, I don’t know how.
CHAPTER25
For the entirelong trek back to my room, I struggle to think of a way to help my mom. Where can she go? With what money? Does she know when the plane is to take off and arrive? How much time will she have before Father shows up in Italy?
I try to call her again as I enter my room. The door’s unlocked, which means Lauren’s there. She barely looks up at me, and I ignore her and end the call because I’m not about to leave my mom a voicemail message. There’s no point. I guess I’ll just have to wait for her to call me back.
If she calls me back.
Shit. Mom’s not suicidal, is she?
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.