Page 81 of Falling for Them
“I don’t know.The way you’re sitting, maybe.”
I hook my pen to my notebook and let both of them rest in my lap.“Well, yeah.You were a dick, as a matter of fact.”
“Righteous anger suits you, sis,” he says.
“I take it you don’t remember your dickish behavior?”
“Not really.”He runs his hand over his dirty hair.“What’d I say?”
“It doesn’t matter.You’ll just do it again and forget again.”
“Ella,” he says, peering at me.
His blue eyes remind me of Dad’s.I was always jealous he’d gotten Dad’s blue eyes, whereas I got our mom’s brown ones.Our mother skipped out early, when we were kids.Apparently that life she had with us wasn’t what she’d had in mind for herself.We haven’t heard from her in years, and I doubt we ever will again.I’m okay with that.
“Ella,” he says again.“I’m sorry, okay?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say.He always is.
“I got myself into deep shit.”
“You should go to the police.”
“Nah,” he says, “I have it handled, now.”
“Okay.”I don’t believe him, but arguing never did us much good.I’ll never make him see things my way.IwishI could believe him, though.
“How’s your music going?”he asks.
I shrug.“I don’t have a lot of time for it, between my jobs.”
“You’re really good at it, though,” he says.“Dad wouldn’t want you to give up.”
“I’m not giving up.Not entirely.I’m just trying to stay afloat, same as you.”
He nods.“Can I take a look?At your verses?”
“Sure.”I pass him the notebook.
He flips through the pages, his thick eyebrows scrunched together as he reads.After a few minutes of reading, he passes the notebook back to me.“This is really good, E.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it.Seriously, don’t stop writing songs.You’re great at it.Dad and I, we always loved listening to your songs, and your new stuff is just as good, if not better.”
I press my lips together tightly, unsure of what to say, or if I can even speak past the thick lump forming in my throat.Finally, I choke out, “Thanks, Tommy.”
“Don’t thank me.You’re the talented one.”He leans over and gives me a half hug around my shoulders.“Now.Tell me your favorite memory of Dad.”
Tommy said terrible things to me, and he’ll probably do it again sometimes.But right now, he has apologized.
And he’s the only family I have left.
Kingston
“I feel like an asshole, sitting out here like this,” I say to Sebastian.
He’s sitting in the back of his car with me, his gaze intent on the rundown building that Ella lives in.We’re parked across the street from the complex.Sebastian’s driver must think we’re stalkers, but I’m having a hard time giving a shit about what his driver thinks of me.Once I realized who I am, and the things I like to do in the bedroom, I had to stop caring what other people thought.
