Page 18 of Finding Delaware

With a heavy sigh, I roll onto my side and close my eyes. In all honesty, I didn’t even want to go to Christian’s stupid party. I only asked if I could come to keep up appearances.

Hide that I’d rather be here, in my room, miserable and alone.

I want to sleep. I really do. But who knows when Taylor will be home, and even though my door is locked, I don’t trust that asshole. Just last week, he tied a string outside my room,and I tripped over it first thing in the morning. And then put saran wrap under the toilet seat so that I pissed all over myself. Not to mention the constant gay jokes.

Fucking prick. The only time it seems we aren’t at each other’s throats is when we’re racing on the track in the backyard. In Delaware. Which isn’t often these last few months, almost like hewantsto be a douchebag to me.

Well, except for that week when he first moved in.

Tucking my fist beneath my chin, I force my body to relax as I remember that morning after the wedding.

There’s a soft scratching at my door, drawing my focus from the comic strip I’m trying to draw. Listening intently for a moment, I hear nothing, so I return to the artwork in front of me. I rarely get time to draw anymore since summer is usually my only reprieve. Once school starts, all my time is filled with football, swim team, motocross, and church shit. The motocross, I enjoy, but the rest of it? Let’s just say that the thought of my freedom ending has me in a sour mood this evening.

The scratching comes again, followed by a loud meow and a low chuckle that sends goosebumps over my skin. Putting down a colored pencil, I stand and stretch. After I showed Taylor the track and we’d raced last night, we’d gone to the store to buy supplies for his cat. It had been weird because he’d actually been tolerable to be around, but I chalked it up to the effects of the second pain pill he popped before getting in my car. After that, I’d spent the rest of the night and all morning in my room. Having him here is throwing me off. I’m not sure how to handle it.

A thump hits my door, and annoyance has me huffing as I throw on some pants before checking on the noise. Upon stepping into the hall, I look down to see Lasagna chasing a red dot. Taylor sits on the floor just inside the doorway of his room, holding the laser pointer for her, a black tank top hanging off his lean frame depicting an image of MewTwo and Beerus from DragonballZ locked in a space battle. He’s also wearing sweats, his bare feet tucked beneath him, dark hair mussed as if he’d just gotten up from a nap.

My heart leaps when his gaze meets mine, his forearms bulging as he flicks the laser pointer. A crooked grin curls his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Fuck, why?

Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

“Hey,” he says, watching me sit cross-legged in front of my door.

“Hey.” I look away, avoiding the ring of bruises that I caused on his arm. The sight of them still makes me feel like throwing up despite the ones on his face. We sit quietly, watching Lasagna go crazy for the red dot.

Taylor is the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. “What are you up to in there?”

His eyes flick over my shoulder, but I ignore his question, instead holding out a palm for the toy. “Can I try?”

He tosses it to me, and I catch it midair, chuckling at Lasagna as she jumps to try and catch it herself. She’s really a cute thing, albeit scruffy. Her pupils nearly consume her amber eyes, little chirping noises twitching her whiskers when I point the dot at the ceiling.

“How old is she?”

“Eleven.” He pauses for a beat. “Maisie got her for me a year before she left.”

I turn to him and see his cheek resting on his fist, hair falling into his eyes as he plays with the string of his sweats. There’s something heartbreakingly sad about his expression, the way his shoulders curve forward as if he’d curl in on himself if he could.

I don’t know if it’s the wedding or the pain pills, but I’ve never seen him this way before, and I don’t know how to respond.

“I’m sorry,” I reply softly, bracing for the inevitable lashing he’s sure to give me. ‘I don’t want your pity’ or ‘fuck off’ are sure to follow, but after a solid minute of flinching...they never come.

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “My father is an asshole. He was abusive to her, so I get why she left. I don’t think she ever wanted to be a mother. I just...”

He trails off, but I can hear the words he’s trying to say.

I don’t get why she had to leave me, too.

Lasagna continues to meow as I sweep the light over the wall, another awkward silence settling over us. He shifts uncomfortably, almost like he’s going to leave, but something in me desperately wants him to stay, to keep this open flow of communication between us after so many years of cold cruelty.

So I open my mouth.

“That picture downstairs that you were holding yesterday,” I start, “the one of my mom at the beach? It’s the last vacation we took before... before she died. The last time I truly saw her healthy.” Taylor slowly settles back down on the floor, and I take that as a cue to continue.

“Shewas diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after my sixteenth birthday. I guess she had a lump for a while, but she ignored it because she didn’t want to bother anyone.” I scoff, even as my throat closes. “Can you believe that? To be so sick yet worry about how it will affect everyone else? Anyway, by the time she finally made it to the doctor, it had metastasized. Spread everywhere and took over most of her organs. In little under two months, she was just… gone.”

It’s quiet in the hall, and I don’t think Taylor’s even breathing. I keep swinging the laser around, though I’m not seeing it. I’m reliving the worst year of my life.

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