Page 29 of Antidote

Malia and I aren’t happening, however. As much as she thinks we’re endgame, I’m just not feeling her as much as she’s feeling me. I say I love you because it’s the right thing to do—the nice thing to do. I’m not a pushover, but I don’t want to hurt her either. She’s been a really good friend to me, though maybe that’s all I see her as, no matter how badly I want to feel more. She thinks we’re getting married and having kids, and I know I should cut this off before it goes too far, but I need someone. And she gives that to me—a safe place. A shoulder to cry on. More than anything, I’m afraid to be alone—mainly because I already feel like I am.

My footsteps crunch on the rocky path leading back to the parking lot, and I focus on my breaths to hold back the tears trying to push past my eyelids. I hate coming here. I cry for hours after every visit, but the alternative is worse. Not coming hits me harder. How can I leave my mom behind? There’s no way I could live with myself.

Riverdale University has been my home for the past three years, and I’m now entering my senior year. Before the accident, I was a different person. All that mattered to me were the things that mattered to a stupid popular jock. Getting laid—even if I felt nothing—and winning games. I kept up with my grades because if I failed, I wouldn’t get to play. I am the captain of the hockey team. I have to play.

Except now my priorities have shifted. I don’t care about fucking my way through college anymore. In fact, that’s why I have Malia. I don’t need that shit anymore. I figured settling down was something that eventually needed to happen. At first, we were just fuck buddies for a very long time. At least for the sake of upholding my image. But then my mom died, and it felt like my mom would’ve wanted me to be a better person. And more than anything, I want to be someone she’s proud of. Unlike my fucking brother—who I can’t even bring myself to think of for more than a few minutes a day. Because if I do, I’ll never dig myself out of this damn hole.

Oliver’s a disappointment. And he knows that.

We haven’t talked at all since she passed. Not since I told him I never wanted to see him again. He hasn’t sought me out, and I’ve tried my hardest to not give a fuck. After all, I told him I hated him.

You’re fucking dead to me.

That’s what I told him.

Did I mean it? Yes, in the heat of the moment. Would I wish him dead? I don’t think I have it in me to. We’ve been brothers since we were ten years old. His dad is my dad—considering the one who came in my mom is a piece of shit who didn’t want a kid. Said he was too young and had a life ahead of him that didn’t involve me. So no, I’ve never met him. And that’s just fine by me.

My little family was enough—until it wasn’t.

Unlocking my car, I get in and turn the key in the ignition. I blast the A/C, mostly because the leather seats are scorching hot. Just as I’m about to pull out of the parking spot, my phone begins to ring. I reverse and peel out, answering at the same time.

“Are you going fast again?” Dad chuckles. “I can hear your tires begging me to put them out of their misery.”

“They’ve never been happier.” I chuckle back. “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” He clears his throat. “Did you visit her today?”

Her.

Lucy.

Mom.

“Yeah.” Tears sting my eyes again, but I don’t let them fall. “I miss her,” I whisper.

Just when I think he didn’t hear me, he says, “I miss her too, son.” My dad clears his throat again. “So, listen.”

“Yeah?” I narrow my eyes at the road.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“That apartment I pay for?” I tense. He never brings up that he pays for stuff, so he’s about to ask for something that I know will piss me off. No. “I need you to share it.”

I take a deep breath in. “With who, Dad?”

“Um...” He seems flustered, although I can’t get a good read on him. I should be able to, considering we talk almost every day. But, right now? He’s nervous, and that’s the only thing I can tell. “Oliver.”

My hackles rise, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel until my knuckles crack and turn white. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s done with rehab, Hunt.” Dad sighs, “And I need you to make sure he stays clean. I can’t just let him throw his life away. Your mom would’ve never wanted that.”

No.

“Don’t you dare bring Mom into this,” I growl, my sweaty shirt sticking to my back. I feel nasty, and I just want to get home. Not have this stupid conversation. “It’s not happening.”

“Your mom died trying to get him help, Hunter,” he replies. “Do you truly think she’d want him to go down this path again? He needs to be supervised. He has to turn his life around.”

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