Page 44 of The Hate We Breathe
Unsure of what else to say, I tell her the truth. “I don’t care,” I say, dropping my arms back to my sides as she practically deflates at those words. Her shoulders sinking down as she stares, wide-eyed, back at me. “What happened is in the past, and yeah, you shouldn’t have fucked over your best friend. You shouldn’t have fucked Bran and you shouldn’t have abandoned me when my life fell apart.”
She nods so aggressively, leaning forward, that I take a step back. “I know,” she says quickly. “I know and I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I-I don’t know if you’ve heard but there was a…” She blanches before continuing. “I—well, there was a situation with a video…” The struggle that passes over her face might have once amused me for purely petty reasons, but now, I’m just tired and I don’t want to deal with her.
“Thank you for the apology, Avery,” I tell her before sighing. “It was good of you to say it. Hopefully, you’ll treat your next friend better than me.”
Avery’s head comes up and her big, doe brown eyes focus on me. Even with her attention solely on me, her gaze is a bit hazy. As if she’s not completely there.
Is she on drugs?That would explain the extent of her weight loss.
“You’re not going to accept it?” she blurts.
“What?” I blink and look back at her face.
“I-I said I was sorry,” she reminds me.
I nod. “Yeah, and?”
“You’re supposed to say that you forgive me.” Her hands are twisting in front of her, trembling with each word. “That’s what the program says—you have to apologize and ask for forgiveness and you’re supposed to be forgiven.”
“Program?” I repeat, dazed by her words. I shake them off in the next instant and huff out a laugh. “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean Ihaveto forgive you,” I tell her. “I appreciate you admitting what you did, but Idon’tforgive you.” I take a single step towards her and she freezes, all trembling ceasing in an instant as if it was all a facade in the first place.
“Your best friend—the one who held your hair out of your face as you puked your guts up on your sixteenth birthday. The one who didn’t judge you for sleeping with more than half of the football team. The one who defended you and cast others out of that stupid inner circle we had on your behalf. That girl?” I let her see the coldness in my eyes as ice fills my voice. “She died that night and you were one of the people who killed her.”
With that, I leave Avery behind and walk around her, striding towards the guys. They lift their heads at my approach as if they hadn’t been watching the whole time. I’m not stupid. I know they were. Nolan shifts his gaze to over my shoulder, most likely where I left the other woman standing.
“Everything all right?” he asks, before moving his gaze back to me.
I don’t have to look back at Avery to know the truth for myself. “It will be,” I tell him.
17
GIO
“Ithought I warned you to stay away from that girl, boy.” I stiffen the second my father’s voice hits my ears. My hands ball into fists and I resist the urge to spin around and deck the fucker.
Eighteen years I’ve been under his roof. Eighteen years I’ve been his ‘boy’. I’ve watched him spout nonsense about how to be a real man then come home and slap Mama across the face for burning dinner. If that’s what a man is, I’ll never be one. But I’m certainly no fucking ‘boy’ either.
Slowly, with precise movements, I turn to face him. My father sits on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned all the way and spread to reveal the white wifebeater beneath. The irony leaves a bad taste in my mouth. My gaze falls to the beer can as he tightens his fist and the aluminum shrinks under his strength.
“Get me another,” he says, tossing it to the floor. “And clean this up.” He nods to the fallen can.
For a moment, I contemplate just ignoring him and walking past to my room. I even picture it in my head, one foot in front of the other, down the hallway, through my door, and into my closet. There’s a duffle in there that I could use to fill up enough clothes to last me a few days. I could go back to Lex’s place.
There’s also a bat in there. Old. Metal. Rusted. From when I was a kid. I bet it still hits just as well as it used to.
“Are ya stupid?” Darrio’s barked question pulls me from my reverie, reminding me the truth of why I haven’t killed this bastard yet. Consequences. Not just for me, but for Mama. For the guys. Now, for Juliet.
Without a word, I bend and pick up the discarded can and walk towards the kitchen. Tossing it into the open trash, I grab another of the same brand from the fridge. I stomp back into the living room, practically tossing it at the man sitting there, in front of a television playing reruns of some old show on mute.
“Sit,” Darrio orders as he pops the tab.
Once again, I’m left with a choice. Sit or go. Stay or run. I’m tired of fucking running. I sit to the side in a sagging, threadbare recliner that has seen better days. Leaning forward, I settle my elbows on my knees and eye my father.
“What do you want?” I demand.
Darrio takes a long drink from his fresh beer and then reaches for the remote at his side. The TV clicks off in the next instance, casting the room into dark shadows. Light spills in from the kitchen and the front windows, still allowing me to make out most things.
The sudden silence is the most disturbing change. All at once, my muscles bunch. I half expect him to come exploding out of his seat, smashing his fist into my face like he used to when I was a kid. Don’t know if he figured out that Nolan wasn’t the only one to put his father down like a dog, but it sure is a curious coincidence since the last time he ever tried to beat the shit out of me was right before that.
