Page 8 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
Heat pricked my skin, and I wanted to crawl the fuck out of it and leave the store so I wouldn’t have to witness this.
I envisioned myself, ten years old, with my mom’s food stamps card, trying to buy stale bread, peanut butter, and milk. My stomach had growled so loudly the entire store could hear it, but that cashier didn’t give a shit. She’d seen it all before. I was just another punk kid with a junkie mother living in a neighborhood where shootings were a regular occurrence and neglected kids roamed the streets.
So it pissed me off to see Evie’s struggles. A part of me hated her for reminding me of things I’d rather forget. The other part of me wished I could erase all her troubles with the sweep of a hand or a swipe of a card.
Not that I ever would. I’d never humiliate her like that.
The woman in front of us kept huffing and muttering like this was an imposition.
“You shouldn’t have had a baby if you can’t afford it.” Big Bertha tsked. “Kids today are too careless. That’s why our taxes are so high. Honest, hardworking people have to pay for your mistakes.”
My hands balled into fists and I was so tempted to plant one in the back of her square head. But I’d never lay a hand on a woman. I wasn’t my asshole sperm donor.
Brody grabbed the back of my hoodie and hauled me back before he spoke to the woman. “I suggest you keep your fucking opinions to yourself,” he said, calm as you like.
The woman turned and glared at us. Brody ignored her and checked his phone as if he had better things to do than deal with a judgmental cow.
I gave her the finger and a sneer.Fuck you, Big Bertha.
Her jaw dropped, and she faced forward, muttering under her breath about how kids today had no respect.
“I’ll just take the diapers and milk,” Evie said, her voice strong and unwavering as she swiped her card again.
This time it went through, and I let out a breath of relief.
The woman in front of us huffed again. And Evie walked out of the store with her shoulders squared and her head held high. I respected her for that. She wasn’t the type to cower or blush.
We were a lot alike. Survivors who would do anything it took to get by in this fucked-up world. I saw it that night in the junkyard. Hell, I could tell from the moment I first laid eyes on her.
Evie Bellamy and I came from similar worlds.
When it was our turn to pay, Brody paid for our food, and despite my protests, the things Evie had left behind.
“You can’t do that. She’ll hate you for it,” I said as we walked out of the store.
“Too bad. She needs to eat.”
I wished like hell that Evie would have been long gone by now so I wouldn’t have to witness this. No such luck. She was pacing outside the store with her phone to her ear, battered black Army boots stomping on the concrete with each angry step.
“What the hell, Mom? There was no money on the card.”
She pivoted and searched the parking lot. “Where are you? You said you’d wait right outside.”
Brody dropped the bags at Evie’s feet and strode away. As if he really believed it would be that easy. I stalked across the parking lot with my shoulders hunched and my hood up.
It was theonlytime I wanted to go unnoticed by Evie.
A hand shoved my back, and I spun around to face her, cocking a brow as if I had no idea why she’d assaulted me in a parking lot. She was panting, her black hair a wild, unruly mane that I wanted to tame with my fingers. “Nice to see you too.”
Two hate-filled eyes narrowed at me, her greens blazing like a forest fire that cut a swathe right through my chest.
“Tell your dad or whoever that is that I can’t accept this.” She threw the bags at my feet. A jar of peanut butter and two green apples rolled onto the tarmac. I made no move to retrieve them.
“My brother.”
“I don’t really care who he is. I would ratherstarvethan accept charity.”
Fuck, she was beautiful. No. Beautiful was too tame a word for Evie. She was stunning, with a face and body that could stop traffic. Cause a ten-car collision on the highway.
