“I’m not saying Hunter was never good. All I’m saying is, I’m not the one who turned him bad,” Ricky declares. “Might want to look a little closer to home if you need someone to blame.”
I’m not quite sure what that means, but neither my pride nor my pain will let me ask. There’s a stretch of silence between us and when his gaze flickers over my shoulder, I know exactly who he’s staring at.
Frustration sets in and I snatch my hand from his, using it to wipe the tear that’s escaped.
“I need to go check on Scar and Shane. Anything else?” I ask, forcing my tone to go cold.
He’s quiet, like there’s something more he wants to say. “Nah, just tell Shane I won’t be home when he gets there. I have things to take care of.”
I nod but don’t say a word.
More than aware of both sets of eyes locked on me, I refuse to look at either. Ricky’s bike thunders when he climbs back on and revs it. Then, he leaves just as quickly as he swept in. I’ve already made up my mind to call and apologize later, because I know he catches the bulk of my bitchiness, but my emotions have to settle first. Even knowing he always means well, I’m honestly starting to resent him coming around. Simply because he never seems to bring any good news.
Ever.
@QweenPandora: What a game! As expected, our boys are off to a great start this season. With any luck, we’re on our way to claiming yet another state championship. If you missed tonight’s performance, don’t make that mistake twice. See you next Friday, Peeps!
—P
Chapter 18
BLUE
I haven’t seen Scar this happy in weeks. Yeah, she loved being at the game, but it’s also clear that we needed this time together. She misses me, hates that I’m away from home so much, but I never doubt that she understands why. It doesn’t go over her head that I’d be around more if I could.
First thing in the morning, I’ll be waiting tables at the diner, but tonight is all about her.
A phone call from Uncle Dusty takes us on a slight detour. It only takes him saying he’s made us dinner to bring home and we eagerly deviate from our path. Despite likely being overwhelmed with customers in my absence, he still made time to take care of us.
Like always.
I hadn’t made either Scar nor myself much of a lunch, and didn’t have money for concessions at the game, so it goes without saying that we’re starving by the time we reach our side of town.
We drop off Shane and Jules, then I make the quick drive home, going as fast as I’m legally permitted. The second Scar and I burst through the back door, laughing loud enough to wake the dead, we race for the kitchen sink.
“Respect your elders,” I yell, yanking her backward by her shirt.
A shriek leaves her mouth and she playfully shoves me aside. It’s a fight to the death, both wrestling to be the first to wash our hands and dig into whatever Uncle Dusty sent this time.
One solid hip bump knocks Scar into the cabinet and I’m in the lead. By the time she finally catches her breath from laughing, I’m done rinsing and grabbing two forks from the drawer.
“You cheated!” she yells. “No one stands a chance against those hips.”
“Hey! Watch it,” I warn her, laughing at the well-timed insult.
She ignores me, opting to forego an apology, and drops down in the seat across from me.
“Ah, burgers,” she sighs after flipping open the lid of her to-go container. A second before digging in, she dramatically inhales the aroma.
“I know you thanked him when we stopped into the diner, but don’t forget to shoot Dusty a text later, too,” I remind her.
“Always do.”
The only thing that keeps me from wolfing down my food is that I’m now caught up watching my sister. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful, she’s also the best kid I know—good grades, responsible. I probably shouldn’t take credit for that, but I can’t help feeling like I kind of had a hand in her being so awesome. Of all the things I’ve ever done, helping take care of her is the most meaningful.
“I was so hungry my stomach was two seconds from eating itself,” she says with her mouth full. “Only thing missing is ketchup.”
She hops out of her seat and I watch as she bounds over to the fridge. From down the hall, the floorboards creak after Mike’s door slams, and I know he’s coming this way.
Scar doesn’t say a word, but she rolls her eyes in anticipation of good ol’ dad joining us in the kitchen.
“How come no one told me it was dinnertime?” His speech is slurred, which doesn’t come as a surprise.
“Because there’s no dinner for you,” I answer.
Scar takes her seat again and our gazes lock across the table.
My gut tells me it’s time to gather our containers, grab a blanket, and eat picnic-style on my bedroom floor. It’s what we used to do when our parents would get into it back when we were kids. I’d lock the door and turn the radio up to drown them out. She was young enough that it worked—out of sight, out of mind—but Hunter and I knew all too well what went on beyond that bedroom door.
“Let me have a fry,” Mike grumbles, reaching toward Scar’s food without asking.
“Touch anything on that plate and you won’t live to taste it.” My warning earns me a hard glare from my father.
A haughty laugh leaves him, and he folds both arms over his CPPD t-shirt—a throwback to when he was still on the force. You know, when he was still a respected citizen of this town.
“You think you’re real hot shit, don’t you?” he asks. “Walking around here acting like you’re better than everyone else, when the truth
