Well, his best wasn’t mine, his best put me in a category of a lot of shit I tried so fucking hard not to be. Greer was right about something else in the end. I’d failed my father…
But I’d failed my mom worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Greer
I sat on the kitchen counter at Mom and Ben’s house, peering on while Mom cooked dinner for Ben and me. We weren’t able to do any of our takeout nights recently due to both Ben and her being out of work, and though they did both get severance pay, it’d only last so long. Ben was currently out on interviews now for police work in other counties. Either way, we’d all probably have to move after term completed for me. My housing package throughout the rest of the year wouldn’t mean much if I couldn’t pay for school, and though I’d looked into scholarships and grants, those wouldn’t be divvied out until the next academic year. Knight and his bullshit had screwed both my family and me again, and not only had I let him do it, I’d been the reason why. He’d been mad at me, me and my meddling that probably hadn’t even been valid. He knew his mom’s situation far greater than I did, so what gall did I have to actually get involved? Not much, and a career in anything that currently involved a degree seemed to be pretty damn far out of reach these days.
Mom frowned at me from the skillet, and because I knew she didn’t like when I sat on the counter, I got off, lounging a hip against the kitchen counter instead to shuck corn. I tossed the husk in the trash. “This is a mess. You can’t fight this?”
I’d more than explained how screwed up it’d been to not only fire them both, but on such late notice. They’d had jobs one day, then the next—gone, and that was completely fucked. The university had no right do that.
“Tides change, bug. You move with them or get crushed by the waves.” Mom pressed the three burgers with her spatula, way too calm about Ben’s and her current situation. She shook her head. “What’s done is done.”
I wanted her to fight for herself, do something, but what right did I have to demand that? I’d gotten them both fired in the first place, something I’d kept close to the cuff due to nothing but my own guilt. Even still, the fact couldn’t be denied that the Reeds felt they were gods when they came to our lives. Had for a decade now. “Knight and his grandfather are assholes.”
The university had told Mom and Ben they’d been let go due to budget cuts, but I knew the truth and I did tell him the Reeds had pulled their funding. Mom and Ben, of course, had passed that off, saying there was no direct correlation, but of course, I knew the truth.
Mom tsked. “When will you stop blaming that boy for getting your stepdad and me fired? And what happened? I thought you two…”
Her words drifted off, and I swallowed. The moment Knight and his grandpa’s role in their firing came out my mouth Mom knew something was up, up between Knight and me…
She’d just been too nice to ask about it.
She’d at least put two and two together that absolutely nothing was going on between Knight Reed and me. At least not anymore.
“It doesn’t matter what the Reeds do with their money,” Mom continued. “And even if that was the reason, what the university does is on the university. I don’t blame the Reeds, and if I could blame them, I wouldn’t. It’s their money to do with what they wish, and I’d have no right.”
How could she stand there and say that? How could she keep defending the Reeds time and time again? I didn’t understand—at all. Knight sat at her table, ate her and Ben’s food, and still, she wasn’t upset.
“That’s all a joke.”
“What is?”
Fuck, she’d heard me. I’d meant to say it under my breath. I shook my head. “Nothing, Mom.”
“No ‘nothing, Mom.’” She flipped the burgers, stepping away from the skillet, then wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “What is a joke?”
“It’s just like, the Reeds can do no wrong in your eyes. Knight can do no wrong.”
“Why would you say that? Is this about all that stuff when you guys were kids?” Sighing, she pulled a veil of her hair out of her face. “That boy is not at fault for me losing my job.”
“How so?” I dropped corn in a bowl. “The guy goes crazy, kills a dog at like eleven. I mean, who does that? He’s crazy. Even then. Then there’s Mr. Reed. He swept what happened under the rug to save face for what his crazy grandson did.” I groaned. “He kicked us out, tossed us out on the street, and we lived in our car, Mom!”
“That’s not what happened, and yes, we lived in our car but that was not an eleven-year-old boy’s fault, and he’s not crazy. Don’t call him that.”
“What else could explain it? Kids don’t kill dogs—”
“Well, that kid did for you.”
She froze me where I stood with her words. Releasing a breath, she pressed palms to her face, and I pushed off the counter. I frowned. “What do you mean he did for me?”
“Like I said, he did for you.” Then reaching over, she lifted my pant leg. “Or did you forget how you got that scar?”
I stared down at the faded bite mark. Of course I hadn’t forgotten. I mean, I got bit by a dog. “No, I didn’t forget.”
Mom let go, sighing. “That boy hunted down
