Page 137 of Never Kiss and Tell

I roll my eyes, angrily licking my cone. It’s like he can see right through me.

“Do you always have to know everything?”

“When it’s hurt my sister, yeah, I do.”

I’ve desperately tried to get Charlie off my mind since I’ve been home. I even went a whole hour the other day where I didn’t even think about him. He came crashing back in, though, when someone said something about whiskey on the movie Iwas watching. He always does.

“He’s Andi’s brother,” I admit, finally. It feels good to finally tell someone.

“And you like him?”

“I love him,” I murmur, without thinking.

“You loved Drew,” Mason points out.

I shake my head. “This was . . . different. Almost too much.”

“Sounds pretty serious,” Mason says, side-eyeing me.

“It wasn’t supposed to be. Like you said. I get attached too quickly. He made me feel safe, like I would live a normal life with him.”

“What’s normal anymore, Bails?” Mason asks, tossing the cone to his ice cream in the trash. I shake my head. He’s always been weird. “I mean, are Mom and Marcus normal?”

“No,” I answer quickly, sidestepping around a kid in the sand. “Mom and Dad were, though.”

“Mom and Dad were toxic for each other. I know you don’t remember that, but I do. Don’t model your next relationship around them.”

“Dad loved Mom,” I argue.

“But Mom didn’t love him back. Not enough. Sure, she loved him because he was the father to her children, but she didn’t love him as a man. He didn’t have enough money for that.”

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “I guess I just came to realize that I have no prospects here. Nothing I’m passionate about. You have the garage; Savannah has the theatre. Mila has whatever Mila has.” Mason chuckles, kicking a small stone across the sand. “What do I have?”

“You have me,” he says, his eyes hard. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “You’ll always have me.”

When I get home, my only plans are to go to my room and clean up the mess I’ve created since I’ve been home and avoid everyone else in the house.

Except, as I climb the stairs to my room, a loud wail sounds from Mom’s end of the house.

“Mom?” I hurry to her, panic welling inside me. I follow the sounds of her cries and as I step into the bathroom, I have to immediately duck out of the way to avoid a flying perfume bottle. It crashes into the floor and spills all over my shoes, soaking my toes.

“Get out!” Mom screeches, the sounds of her voice echoing off the marble walls of the bathroom.

She’s on her knees in a robe on the ground, a cut on her knee. I kneel down beside her, reaching out for her, but she pushes me so hard I fall back on my rear, wincing as pain erupts from my backside.

“Don’t touch me!” she spits, jerking away from me. Her face is bright red and black mascara runs down her cheeks. “Get out!”

“What the hell?” I snap, scooting back and away from her. My mom has never shoved me before. “What’s gotten into you?” That’s when I notice the broken liquor bottle on the floorbehind her.

“Him,” she seethes, rising to her knees and pointing at me. “I found Marcus in bed with his slut, Camilla.”

Stupidly, I move to reach for her, again, only for her to slap my wrist.

“Okay,” I muse, standing. I’ll have a bruise on my hip from the fall, but that isn’t what bothers me most. “Are you going to leave him?”

I move to the sink, grabbing the small dustpan and miniature broom under the vanity and start sweeping up the glass. The harsh scent of scotch sears my nostrils and my chest flutters. I bite down on my tongue, tasting blood.

“What did you just say?” Mom asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

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