She took a small step backward. "I'm not." She frowned. "I just don't want you to have a terrible kitchen, that's all."
With a laugh, I said, "Get real, will ya? It's not about me. It's about you."
She shook her head. "It is not."
"Right." And with that, I turned away.
"Wait!"
Once again, I turned back. "Why?"
Her face was flushed, and her eyes were accusing as she said, "Because I want to know why you're being like this."
"Yeah? And I wanna know things, too. But hey, that's life. Deal with it."
"Deal with it?" She made a scoffing sound. "That's soooo easy for you to say. Everything works out for you."
"Is that so?"
"Definitely," she said. "Even that thing in high school, you were the one who started it – the thing that made us hate each other in the first place."
Where the hell had that come from? "What?"
"The lab," she said. "It was your fault it blew up."
"No kidding." With a tight smile, I leaned toward her and said in a low voice, "Boom."
She flinched. "That's not funny."
"Maybe not to you."
"No. It's not funny, period." She glared out at me. "Although I can see why you'd think so. You came out just fine."
"We were both suspended," I reminded her. "Not just you."
"Yeah, but I didn't do anything to deserve it. And you? You didn't even care about being suspended. But I did."
"So?"
"So it cost you nothing. And it cost me everything." In a quieter voice, she added, "At least as far as school."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "That was a long time ago. So like I said, get over it."
"Get over it?" she repeated. "Do you even remember how awful you were that day?"
I didn't want to talk about. I didn't want to think about it either. But hey, if she was gonna toss it in my face, maybe I'd do some tossing of my own.
"Yeah?" I said. "I was awful. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because my mom had just told us – in a fucking letter, no less – that she wasn't coming back."
Arden froze. "What?"
"That's right," I said. "She told us she found someone she liked better."
"Better than who?" She hesitated. "Your dad?"
I laughed. It wasn't a happy sound, but fuck it. "No. Dad was long gone by then."
Her eyes filled with sympathy. "You mean dead? That long ago?"
"No. I mean, he ran off."
"But—"
"He died after. No big loss, the way I see it."
From the look on Arden’s face, she didn't agree. And hey, maybe I didn't agree either. But it was better to hate both of them than to mourn the parents they'd never been.
"So…" Arden hesitated. "When your mom said she found someone better, she meant…?"
"Better than us kids."
Arden sucked in a breath. "No."
With a bitter smile, I replied, "Yeah."
Arden moved closer. "But if that's the case, who were you living with? Back in high school, I mean."
"Nobody. It was just us."
"You mean…" She shook her head. "You and your brothers?"
"And Willow."
"Oh, right. But about your mom – not coming back, I mean – you found out before you met me at the lab that day?"
"That's what I said."
"But…" Again, she paused. "If that's the case, I'm kind of surprised you showed up at all. So, why did you?"
"Because I told you I would."
"But—"
"So I did. End of story." I forced another laugh. "Bad for you, huh?"
"No. I mean, yes. Wait…"
I didn't stick around to hear what she was going to say next. I was done talking. And the truth was, I hadn't meant to tell her any of this.
During the months we'd been together, she'd asked plenty about my family. It was a sore subject, and maybe I'd done a sorry job of explaining why it still pissed me off – and why I didn't want to sully a good thing by dwelling on something so bad.
Still, I should've done better. If nothing else, I should've mentioned Willow. But that was a sore subject of its own.
And hey, what's done was done, right?
When I backed my truck out of the driveway, Arden was still standing in the open doorway, looking too stunned to move.
And me – I sped off, and didn't look back.
Chapter 65
Arden
At the crew house, Waverly was saying, "Why do you care? It won't be your kitchen."
She was right. It wouldn't be.
But I wasn't obsessing over the kitchen. I was obsessing over Brody.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what he'd told me yesterday – that basically both of his parents had abandoned him – cripes, abandoned all of them – while Brody had still been a minor.
The whole thing was incredibly sad. And now, in hindsight, I couldn’t help but wonder about so many other things I'd assumed, even back in high school.
Back then, Brody had missed a ton of classes. I'd always figured he was just a classic cut-up. And then, after accidentally torching his truck, I'd figured he was out mowing lawns during school hours because he valued cash over his education.
But now, come to find out, he'd been dealing with problems a lot worse than I'd ever faced.
In the crew house, Waverly was still talking. "So it just seems to me, you're getting all worked up for nothing."
She had no idea.
Today was Saturday, which meant I had the whole day off. I'd spent most of the morning in my bedroom, and had only emerged at noon because I'd thought the house was empty.
No such luck.
I'd found Waverly at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and – judging from her computer screen – shopping for new luggage.
As if she didn't have enough already.
I'd been hoping she'd simply ignore me. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd surprised the heck out of me by asking why I looked so depressed.
Like a total sap, I'd felt compelled to give her at least some answer. So I'd briefly mentioned my concerns about Brody's kitchen, specifically Miss LaRue's plans to replace the current cabinets with something totally unworkable.
In reply to her latest statement, I said, "Yeah, but doesn't Brody deserve a kitchen he
