Page 94 of Tell Me When It's Over

Aussie Asshole: I feel obliged to listen to Kelly. Gives great head. Fox in the sheets too if you’re interested

Me: Sounds like she’ll be the one demanding child support then

Aussie Asshole: No glove, no love mate

Over this conversation, I put my phone on silent and leave it on the counter. It takes less than five minutes to unpack, and another ten to figure out what to make for dinner that Leighton would eat. Anything with too many vegetables and she acts allergic, always making me chuckle.

I’m half tempted to text her telling her to invite her boyfriend over if she wants, showing that I meant what I said during our heart to heart. It’d be a peace treaty—an olive branch. I may hate it, but she’s an adult who has every right to do what she wants. And admitting to me what she did the other night?

My fingers grip the edges of the counters until they’re white thinking about anyone hitting her, let alone her own fucking mother. Sick or not, nobody has the right to lay a hand on another human unless it’s deserved. Leighton is the last person on this goddamn planet who’s deserving of that kind of treatment.

How she’s still defending her mother is beyond me. I’ll never understand that unconditional love to a woman who’s never reciprocated it. I love my mother, and probably would do a lot of questionable shit for her if I had to, but Katherine shouldn’t be treated the same.

There’s still a lot I’m sure Leighton hasn’t told me knowing the state of her mother’s health—one I led her to take care of on her own. How she can forgive me for that, act like it doesn’t even matter, leaves me in awe.

I’m as much at fault of what happened the past few years as her mother. I’m the person who caused her suffering and the reason she had to sacrifice everything. If I’d just kept my nose out of it like Mia told me…

Sighing, I grab a water from the fridge and head toward the stairs to change into workout clothes. I need to run. To clear my head.

Yet, the look of trust, of something warm and alarming, that Lenny gives me is all I can think of even when I try not to think at all.

It’s over, she told me.

Fuck me.

It is far from over.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Leighton / Present Day

The class dismisses and students all crowd the door waiting to start their weekend. I’m the last to pack up my belongings before Professor Adams calls me up to the front.

I offer her a timid smile, still trying to refrain from making a fool of myself even this far into the semester. Every time she calls my name, I can’t believe the Marcia Adams is saying it, and whenever I tell that to Kyler at night, he tries not to laugh but always fails. “Yes, professor?”

She’s sitting at the edge of the table in her usual business attire—the kind that screams success. Navy pencil skirt, a silk white blouse tucked into the high waist, and heels that make her probably five-seven height a solid five-eleven. Swift. Sophisticated. Intimidating. “I was very impressed by your paper. Not many freshmen can narrow their scope of interest so early on like you have.”

Deep breath. In, out. “Thank you.” I’m proud when my voice doesn’t crack, but it raises an octave that makes me internally wince.

Professor Adams crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell me, what are your interests in relations? I know you’re connected with the Bishops. Is entertainment what you plan on pursuing when your senior year requires an internship?” The surprise on my face must register to her because she smiles knowingly. “I’m known to do my research on people, especially those I see potential in.”

Oh my God. My heart bursts. When was the last time I felt like this? Fifteen? It was definitely the day I went to see Violet Wonders in concert. Kyler had only muttered a few curse words the entire night we stood backstage, and never once commented on my lack of vocal skills when I sang along to their set obnoxiously loud. I’m pretty sure he was thinking it, but he kept it blissfully to himself.

“That means a lot,” I manage, swallowing down the bubbles of excitement trying to escape my throat. “I’m not entirely sure what medium I’d want to work in, but I do want to do more career-driven PR work. Whether that’s in the entertainment industry for musicians, actors, I guess I’ll try figuring it out as I go.”

“I could help if you’re interested.”

I blink. She can… “You’d want to?”

Amusement flickers in her eyes, and those perfectly painted lip

s waver upward. “Trust me, I don’t offer something like that unless I mean it. You’ve proven time and time again over the past month and a half that you’re interested in earning your own way. I’ve worked with many people who come from similar backgrounds as you, Leighton. They tend to expect things to be handed to them because of who they know.”

The background she’s referring to is not the one that consists of asbestos and rodent-infested apartments, and Ramen noodle nights because we couldn’t afford better. Clearing my throat, I glance at the clock on the wall knowing I have a shift at Delmar’s to get to. Mr. Warren hasn’t found a reason to fire me yet, and he’s tried. I’m not going to be late to give him one after all this time. All I offer her is, “I grew up with a strong work ethic.”

“Do you get that from your—” She pauses, pressing her lips together. If she’s done her research, she knows Harry Bishop is not the person I share half my DNA with. And I don’t want to even think about what she knows about my mother because I doubt it’s anything good.

“My mother,” I tell her softly. The inspiration I’ve gotten from Katherine Grier isn’t traditional. Her work ethic didn’t exist, which meant mine had to in its place. I’m not sure who I’d be if I weren’t forced to grow up as quickly as I did. Would I be part of a sorority now? Top of my class? Maybe I’d be at Stanford parties and dating somebody on the football team. It’s not a sure thing, or something I want to get lost in because that isn’t my life and never will be, but the thoughts do like to taunt me from time to time.

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