Page 43 of Office Affairs

Pain echoed up my jaw from the force of holding back.

Bailey spun on her heel and marched into the house. “Where’s the crystal vase that used to be on this table? If you took it, I’ll have you arrested for theft. That vase was a gift to me from your father. It’s worth more than you’ll ever be.”

“It’s up your ass.” I trailed behind her. Might as well get this whole thing done and over with once and for all. “And it’s worth about three dollars. I should know. I’m the one who bought it, wrapped it, and put Dad’s name on the tag three Christmases ago.” The smile felt good. Too good.

Bailey’s heels screeched with the speed of her turn. “You conniving little bitch.”

“Is that why you hate me? Are you jealous of me?” I’d had the thought before but never let it take root. “You have everything I’ve ever wanted. Dad’s affection. His attention. All I have is a run-down apartment that doesn’t even have two bathrooms. But that doesn’t stop you from putting me down every chance you get. You’re supposed to be the adult in this relationship.” I motioned between us. “You were supposed to be my mother.” It took all my control to keep my voice from cracking.

“Like I’d ever claim you.” Bailey’s eyes were cold chips of ice, her face twisted in a macabre grimace.

The breath whooshed out of me. “All I’ve ever done is try to help. From the moment you came into my life, I wanted to help. Even now.” I stopped before I gave myself away. “Nothing I ever do is good enough for you.” Or for Dad. That thought stayed firmly locked away where she could not use it against me.

“That’s just the point.” Bailey stayed in the center of the room. She surveyed the space, ignoring my presence except to keep lashing me with her words. “You’re never going to amount to anything, Sabrina.”

I wanted to refute her words. I’d spent years studying for my master’s in the hopes of finally winning Dad’s affection. Bailey was a lost cause, she had been since her first child was born. The lingering hope was a terrible thing. No matter how often she shut me down, I always came back for more.

She had a point. As much as I hated to admit it, everything I did turned ass up and I got fucked. When was the last time I’d done anything right?

My phone rang, the shrill tone cutting off whatever I might’ve said next. I left the house as I answered, my heart in my throat when I heard the school’s name in my ear.

“I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, we need you to pick up your son.”

23

SABRINA

Bright light blinded me when I stepped from the house to the yard. I stopped to let my eyes adjust and to steady my voice. “What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

“No, ma’am.” The quiet drone of the old man’s voice set my nerves on edge. “Your son was involved in a fight.”

A screech pulsed at the back of my throat. My idiot half brothers continued their game of throwing my books back and forth to each other, deliberately missing the passes and letting the books fall to the ground. Pages littered the grass, the torn, ragged edges reminiscent of my heart. “Can you tell me what happened?” I bit the words out in short, clipped syllables, picked up as many of Keith’s clothes as I could carry, and hustled back to my car. I risked one more trip for the rest of his clothes and did my best to ignore the indignation at leaving my books and clothes behind. I’d find a way to get by.

Twisted family dynamics and a hell-bent desire to prove myself gave me the strength to climb into my car and put it in drive after hanging up on the school principal. The calm drive to the school did nothing to settle my nerves, and I walked in with a forced smile for Keith’s sake. A woman sitting in the front office directed me to Principal Chandler with a soft but indecipherable shake of her head. Did she find Keith abhorrent like my father did me? Or was my son the victim here? He’d never been in a fight before. In moments like this, I wished Keith had a steady, dependable man he could look up to.

“Miss Roberts?” A short man with bushy sideburns and thick eyebrows held open the office door. “Please come in.”

Keith sat in front of the worn desk, his arms crossed and a sullen look pulling his chin to his chest.

I crossed to sit beside him and pushed his curls up from his forehead. “Are you okay?”

Principal Chandler groaned and sat, lacing his hands together on top of the desk. “You should be asking the other boy that.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” There were a lot of options when it came to raising and caring for a child. His well-being, both physical and mental, was my primary concern. “My son is my concern.” I kept my focus on Keith, who raised his head at my sharp tone. I lowered it and gave him a questioning look. “Are you okay?”

A quick nod and the flash of thanks in his eyes were more than enough justification for giving him the benefit of the doubt and showing him that I cared more about him than anything else. I’d never gotten that growing up and I’d rot in hell before I let Keith think I didn’t care about him.

“Miss Roberts, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Keith was in a serious altercation today.” He sounded about as sorry as a screech owl in the middle of the night.

Keith fidgeted in his chair, a flicker of anger dancing across his face with such intensity that it sucked the air from the room.

I settled him with a look and a pat on the shoulder. “What happened?”

“Your son hit another boy.” Tight lips pressed together, Principal Chandler pointed both his index fingers at Keith. “We have a strict no-fighting policy.”

“Why?” I met Keith’s narrowed gaze. “Why did you hit him?” I couldn’t care less about the school policy. Why did my son feel the need to inflict pain on someone else? The image of my half brothers harassing me throughout the years stampeded through my thoughts. Was he following their example because it was what he knew? For fuck’s sake. Why didn’t I leave sooner?

“It doesn’t matter why.” The principal drew out the last word, his voice rising in pitch. “Our policy is absolute.”

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