Page 57 of Unbreakable Love

Cameron’s smirk was as arrogant as it always was. “Damn straight I am.”

I said my goodbyes, and with Penny still on my mind, the realization of what she had to deal with as a small child, taking care of a sister, and most likely a mom who was breaking in front of her by the day so vivid in my brain, I headed straight to her house.

We’d made strides the other day, let our intentions be known.

And I was tired of fighting them, avoiding them, and running from them.

This time, I was taking them.

SEVENTEEN

PENNY

“Dang, sis-sis, your place is really nice.”

Maize poured a glass of wine—wine I’d picked up because I knew she was coming to town and would want one as soon as she arrived—into the only wineglass I’d bothered purchasing and took in my small little house that was all mine.

She’d gotten in a half hour ago and we’d spent that time unpacking her car and then her suitcase. We hadn’t stopped talking since.

Since today was an optional teacher workday, I’d chosen the option to stay home, clean, and get ready for Maize’s arrival. Granted, it left me with a lot of time on my hands and little to do considering my house was small and naturally tidy, but I’d spent most of that time in between thinking of Gavin.

Wondering how his family was doing.

Thinking about that moment we shared. That moment when he’d leaned in and almost kissed me. “Can I?” His question had bounced around in my brain for two days, not only due to the gravelly tone of his voice when he’d asked, the need in it, but the fact that shortly after Josie declared herself done and I helped her clean up, Gavin had not said much to me at all.

There’d been smiles and kindness, no look of instant remorse as far as I could tell, but there hadn’t been that need I’d seen earlier either.

Maybe it’d been a mistake. Maybe a decision made in the moment I wouldn’t have again. Regardless, his family was going through a lot, and I wasn’t going to push him. Josie stayed home Tuesday as well, but I figured that had more to do with the family needing to be together. News of Ava’s attack had broken on the national news outlet and their family’s pictures were posted on television so frequently, I finally turned it off and kept my Netflix on. No doubt that had something to do with the fact I’d barely seen his truck in the drive since Monday.

“I like it here,” I admitted, with only a small amount of guilt in my voice.

She rolled her eyes like she always did. “And you sound so sad about it. How dare you go do good things with your own life.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She held her wineglass at her bottom lip and arched a brow. “Isn’t it?”

“Ugh. Fine. A little. There’s been drama going on here, and it’s made me think of Mom and you and us, and fine. I still feel bad for leaving you.”

She snorted and set down her drink. “I’m twenty years old, Pen. I’m an adult. I don’t exactly love school, but it doesn’t suck like I thought it would, and I’m doing well. You should be proud of that. And I’m only going to say this one more time in my life, so you better listen to me.” She paused and gave me a scolding look she undoubtedly learned from me.

“Fine.” I flipped my hand out. “Let me have it.”

“Live your freaking life the way you want to. You spent your entire life raising me, taking care of me, protecting me from Mom and all the shit she pulled. And you did it well. I’m not like her. But I’m not like you, either. I have my own decisions to make and my own life to live, and you have yours. I’m glad you’re here, doing that. But don’t sacrifice another moment of yours for me. I’ll hate you if you do.”

She glared at me.

I chuckled. “Big words from such a little human.”

At five-four, I was short, but Maize was still shorter.

“I mean it.” She scowled. “You’ve done your job. I’m not a waste of space like Mom and you should be proud of that and make decisions for yourself, like this one.”

“She’s not?—”

“Don’t,” Maize snapped, and I jerked back in shock. We didn’t agree about Mom, but she’d never been so vehement about it before. “Don’t glorify her into a woman she wasn’t. She might have given us money to keep a roof over our heads, but that’s all she gave us, and you know it. You might want to look back and see a woman who loved us, but all I know is that she didn’t love us enough. And now she’s a gigantic loser with her vodka and rotating bed of even bigger losers to keep her company and she deserves it.”

“Maize…” I started, but at the look in her eyes, I stopped.

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