Page 44 of Enemy Crush
“Well, I hope Mase will be okay on the bus now,” I said.
“Yeah, we had a good talk about it,” Dad said, lowering his voice even though Mason was in his bedroom. “Learning how to deal with the bullying. And I’ll be calling the school tomorrow. He said even the Devereaux girl gets called names on the bus.”
I gave him a clueless shrug, but guilt stabbed me. She’d stood up for my brother, but I hadn’t stood up for her. It still bugged me that I’d let it slide, hadn’t stepped in. Enemy or not, it was wrong of me. Just like the mom situation.
“If Mason wants to see Mom, I shouldn’t stop him,” I blurted. “He...he has the right to make his own decision.”
Dad’s eyelids fluttered. “What brought this on?”
I shrugged again, muttering, “Just what you said.”
“You listened? I like that.” Dad’s smile was smug.
“There’s really a college fund?” I asked. Yesterday my pride—or pigheadedness—had stopped me from asking more about it. But I couldn’t get out of my head that, though she hadn’t been a part of our lives for ten years, our mother actually cared enough to plan for our futures.
“Two actually,” Dad said. “You know I put money aside for you and Mase, too?”
I laughed in shock. “Mase, I can understand, yeah. He has the brains. Me, not so much.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed and he scrutinized me a little too intensely. “Don’t sell yourself short. Hey, maybe I haven’t done things right,” he said huskily. “Maybe I should’ve done things differently. Should’ve made you keep in contact with her. Your mom’s not a bad person, Miller. After all, I loved her once.”
I heaved in a breath, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest.
I loved her once.
Maybe she’d loved us too. Once upon a time.
“I should’ve gotten you help. You know, counseling,” he said, his voice hoarse with regret. “I mean, you were just a kid. It’s not too late. Might be good to talk about things with someone else. I could sort that...if you wanted.”
“Maybe.”
Dad nodded. “Yeah, maybe after the spud harvest, when you have a little more time. It might be good.”
I blew out a long sigh, ready to make changes. I didn’t want to be a jerk anymore, least of all to my brother. Last week had been the worst because I’d hated that feeling of shutting him out. Of hating him. Of causing him to have an asthma attack. And I didn’t want these feelings toward my mother to consume and overpower me. Because it was draining and destructive and...I couldn’t stop thinking about how Quinn was the one who saved Mason.
“Hey,” I said as Dad turned to leave, curiosity killing me. “Why’d you give Quinn a ride home? I mean, aren’t the Devereauxs the enemy?”
“Because she was waiting for a bus that was never gonna come,” Dad said. “And you know the saying, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
I scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dad chuckled. “She helped your brother.” I expected him to add, “when you didn’t,” but his next words surprised me, “And...I learned that Quinn’s not her mother.”
Chapter 16
QUINN
So much for only staying at the Country Club fundraiser for a short time. Mom hadn’t arrived home until midnight. I’d been wide awake but switched off my light and pretended to be asleep. The next morning I’d caught her only briefly as I was making breakfast.
“Gotta dash. I’m running late as it is,” she’d said breathlessly, fingers fidgeting in her Prada bag for her car key, not commenting on the crisp, over cooked waffle on my plate. “I’m meeting Tara and Alexis for brunch.”
After she left, I laughed out loud—in irony, of course. Brunch? Miller Trask hadn’t been wrong. Mom was probably ordering Eggs Benedict or Avocado Toast and a vanilla soy latte that we supposedly couldn’t afford, just to keep up appearances.
Now, I could hear the sound of the garage door opening and wondered how I was going to tell her that I needed to be at school early tomorrow morning to start the Spud Harvest.
“What a day!” Mom sighed, dropping her purple bag on the pristine counter top, along with a bag from the grocery store. If she’d noticed the kitchen was sparkling clean, she didn’t mention it. After mowing the lawns, I’d needed another distraction. Cleaning was good for that, therapeutic almost. Didn’t have to think about my two best friends deserting me. My old two best friends who hadn’t sent a single text since yesterday.
“That was a long brunch,” I said sarcastically.
