Page 145 of There's No Us Without You
I’m also shit scared of what could happen if it all falls apart.
What happens to my long-term friendship with Emerson? Does that fall apart too? I can’t lose him; I won’t survive that. He’s everything, and so much more.
And Eden—my little submissive. If I had to compare the two, Emerson is definitely more brat and less likely to drop to his knees because I said so.
But I’ll take him just the way he is.
We haven’t discussed relationship status.
Relationship. . .
Jesus, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. The only thing I do know is I’m feeling every bit as vulnerable as I promised myself I never would.
Seems I’m not very good at keeping promises much these days.
With my last mouthful, I dump my plate into the sink and snatch my car keys from the bowl on the hall table as I head for the door.
It’s Friday again, my least favourite day of the week, but I force myself out the door before locking it behind me and climbing into my car.
The drive to my dad’s house goes by in a blur, the motions automatic because I’ve repeated them so many times over the almost two years since the accident.
If Tyler could see him now, what would he think?
Does he even still hate our father?
Would he want him dead rather than stuck in a bed getting fed through a tube?
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I pull into the driveway behind Jenny’s car—just as I always do—and climb out.
When I walk through the front door, Jenny is fixing a photo on the wall in the hallway.
All I get is a quick glance and a small smile before she focuses back on the photo frame. “These damn walls,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t get this photo to stay put.”
I come up behind her, pausing when my mum’s eyes lock onto mine. It’s one of the only photos my dad kept of her. She’s sitting in a round blow-up tube in someone’s pool, a large sunhat on, and a cocktail in her hand. The smile on her face isn’t one I remember. It must have been the one she used before she decided to abandon her family.
I do remember Dad’s drinking though.
What came first, I have no idea. My mum leaving, or my dad’s drinking. I always thought the drinking was likely the reason she left, and it just got worse afterwards.
I hate her for what she did. I also wish I could see her again.
Christ, for all I know, she could be fucking dead.
“Hey,” Jenny says, making me flinch when she pats my shoulder, her wrinkled hand lingering. “You okay?”
I clear my throat and sniff. “I’m fine. It’s just... I haven’t looked at that photo in years.”
“She was beautiful, your mum.” Jenny gives the frame one last nudge, straightening it.
I nod. “Yeah, she was.”
She’s also a fucking arsehole.
Gently, Jenny pats my chest. “Come on, kiddo.” She nods to the kitchen on the left. “I’ll make you some tea.”
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I take one more glance at the photo and follow Jenny into the kitchen, then sit down at the small, round dining table.
As I wait for Jenny to make the tea, I dig my fingernail into a deep groove in the worn timber and run my eyes over the numerous scratches and dents.
