Page 4 of Finding Delaware

“Language!” His cutting tone has my head snapping up, and even though we’re the same height, his eyes make me feel like a child again, being reprimanded for falling asleep in church. “We’ve talked about this, Huckslee. Maisie will be your stepmother tomorrow, and Taylor will be your brother. You’ll share a bathroom and living space. You’ve had weeks to adjust to the idea.”

I cringe so hard that I feel it in my soul.

Dad’s brows jump. “What happened between you two, anyway? Not even a few years ago, you were friends.”

Yeah.Were. Almost more than friends…

He continues his lecture in my silence. “Well, get over it, whatever it is. And no more fighting. Do you understand me?”

In another lifetime, maybe.

“Yes, sir.” I salute him with a forced cheesy grin that has him rolling his eyes, excusing me off to bed.

As I take the stairs two at a time, closing myself in the bathroom I’ll be sharing with my high school bully tomorrow, I can’t help but think: Just one year. One more year of hiding, and then I’ll be off to college, away from Taylor and this stupid town for good.

Taylor

Ithink Fuckslee cracked a rib.

And the real kicker is that it wasn’t even during the fight. His shoulder slammed into me when I caught him before our bikes splattered his ass all over the track.

Fucker. Should have let the bikes smash him. But then, who would I mess with every day?

A haggard breath leaves my lungs as I ride into Arbitrary Hills trailer park, my head tipping back to watch the metal arch pass over me.

Man, fuck this place. Not just Arbitrary Hills but the whole ass town in general. Only good things here are the biking trails and Rhonda at the smoke shop on Vine Street, who never IDs me because I smile and wink at her.

That’s it.

Well, and Christian. And Salem.MaybeMatty and Xed. But that’s really it.

Revving my engine, I hiss beneath my helmet at the burning in my chest as I floor it past Old Man Jones’s place. I know I woke him up, and the reaming he’ll give me for it tomorrow puts a grin on my lips. I hate that old fucker, but I love to watch him scream. His face turns purple, and his eyes pop out. Shit’s hilarious.

As soon as I get a lane over from where the trailer sits, I bring the bike to a halt in someone’s front yard, snickering at the way my wheel tears up their small patch of grass. The list of people I’m pissing off tonight keeps growing—including Christian, which really irks me.

“You took it too far, dumbass. Huckslee's dad is a nice guy.”

My teeth grind as I walk my bike between fences, recalling my best friend’s words. Yeah, well, if the good Bishop Aaron Davis was a nice guy, he wouldn’t be marrying my piece-of-shit mother. Or forcing me to live with them. Withhim.

The thought of Huckslee has my chest wrenching, like always, but it has nothing to do with the cracked rib. Fuck, I wish I could leave him alone sometimes. He makes it so easy to rile him up, though, and honestly, I really don’t want to stop.

His dark, glittering eyes and blonde curls flash in my mind, those full lips of his red from where I punched them, and a sick rush of satisfaction almost steals my breath at the memory.

I did that. I made those lips swell. I made those dark eyes water. I left my mark on him.

Me.

The backyard of my father’s single-wide enters my vision, and I stop to take a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. Pulling one out, I flick my BIC and light it, inhaling deep, even as sharppain shoots through me. My head falls back against a fence, and I take in the bright stars dotting the sky, breathing out smoke.

Tomorrow’s going to suck major ass. Whether it’ll suck more than my current living situation remains to be seen. Sure, being closer to Fuckslee has some irritating form of anticipation coursing through me—I’d get to make his life hell from the comfort of my own room now—but the thought of being near my mother makes my skin itch worse than being near the asshole currently passed out drunk on the couch inside the trailer.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my mother over the last ten years, but suddenly, now she wants to be a parent? Yeah, fuck off with that shit.

I finish my smoke, putting the butt out on the side of the trailer before rolling my bike over to the padlocked shed. After slipping it inside, I cross to the front where I left my bedroom window slightly cracked. Gripping the ledge with my hands, I grimace as I pull myself onto the windowsill, biting my tongue to quiet a whimper. Fuck, everything hurts. Other than the cracked rib, my nose is clogged with blood, and I’m pretty sure my left eye is starting to swell shut. Seems Huck left his mark on me, too.

Ignoring the weird flip that thought does to my stomach, I swing my legs into the room, intending to drop down silently, when the twisting motion of my torso has my rib twinging so painfully that my muscles give out. I fall from the window, landing on the floor beside my bed and, unfortunately, the cat. She yowls at the top of her little lungs and launches into the shelf above.

“Shhh, quiet,” I hiss, breathing hard through the pain. “Lasagna, you asshole.”

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