Page 70 of The Drop

"That's fair," he hangs his head, putting his hands in his pocket "At first, she begged me to put it off for a month,"

I inhale a shaky breath, thinking about the worst time of my life, after my dad had died and how supportive Josh had been, but he had just been acting the part.

"But then, when I tried again, she offered me the money."

"What did you need the money for, Josh? " I burst out, turning on him, the anger that had been simmering since that night finally rising. "Your family's richer than mine. "

"I don't know,"

"You don't know?"

"I was a kid being offered his own money away from his mom and dad for the first time, and I don't know. I just got caught up."

"I change my mind, I do hate you" I angrily turn away as tears start gathering in my eyes "That probably makes me a horrible person, but I do. What you did was unforgivable" I brush my hands under my eyes angrily.

I don't know what reason would be acceptable to accept the money, but it hurts even more that he doesn't even know why he did.

As if I weren't even worth having a good reason.

"It is unforgivable." He nods. "But that should go for both of us."

I turn back towards him and narrow my gaze, not sure whether I understand what he's saying to me.

"Your mom has never had your best interests at heart, Brooke; it's always been hers." I bite my lip as I think of everything my mom has said and done before and since Josh and I broke up.

"If you can't forgive me, then please don't forgive her."

He's right, he didn't do this alone. He didn't ask her to pay him to stay with me. She started all of this. She isn't the reason Josh and I broke up, but she is the reason we broke up when we did.

"I'm sorry, Brooke, I wish I had seen what I had before I lost it."

"I'm not. " I shake my head and walk back towards my bedroom, turning around to say. "Thanks for finally being honest. "

He nods before heading down the stairs, and I hear my mom call him. "Josh, honey, have you seen Brooke?" I don't wait to listen to his response. I pack up the clothes into my bag. I'm going to keep the stupid dress on because I'm not spending another second here changing. I grab my phone and quickly fire off a text into the group chat, saying I'm heading back to the apartment.

"Brooke?" My mum hurries into my room, seeing me packing up my bag. "Where are you going? You're overreacting."

"Everything I do is an overreaction," I throw my bag down on the bed and turn to her. "Breaking up with Joshbecause you were paying him? Moving in with Cami because I had nowhere else to go? I changed my major to a course that's letting me do something I love and I'm passionate about, is that an overreaction too?" All I feel is the frustration and rage I have been holding on to for years. "You don't care about me, Mom; if you did, you would have been there for me when Dad died instead of paying Josh."

"I told you I don't want to speak about this now," she hisses, closing the door. "Just come downstairs and let's get back to our guests."

"They're not our guests, Mom! They are yours because you can't look anything less than perfect in front of anyone," pacing in front of her. "I want to talk about how you paid Josh to stay with me after my father had just died."

"I did what I felt was best," she says with a hardened expression. "I won't apologise for being the mother I am."

"You never apologise!" I stop pacing and face her, clenching my fists to my side. "You will never admit to letting me down and not supporting me."

"I won't stand here and listen to you speak to me like that." She waves her hand flippantly toward me, turning to reach for the door handle.

"I needed you after Daddy died and you-" choking up, I press my hands against my eyes, I'm not able to finish the sentence, and I feel the tears start behind my eyes as I think of my dad and how much everything hurt when he died. "I just needed someone to hug me like he did, and you felt like the best thing to do was pay Josh to comfort me."

"I was grieving too," she whispers, not turning to face me. "How could I support you? I just lost my husband."

"Why couldn't we have just been there for each other?" I wipe my eyes. "You betrayed my trust, Mom."

"Let's stop this and go downstairs." She tries to shake off the intimate conversation like she always does. We could get somewhere if we spoke about this, but she can't bring herself to talk to me like her daughter, not a stranger.

"You're not listening to me." Tears are falling down my face, and I'm struggling to breathe evenly. "I can't forgive you."

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