Page 39 of Broken By the Bad Boy

Josef loves our mother. That’s undeniable, but before him, Mom loved us more than life itself. At first, it was Asher, Benny, and Mom. Now, it’s Josef, then Asher and Benny. I don’t like it, but I have to deal with it. It’s weird how someone sprouts out of nowhere and ends up changing your life. Their presence will upset your perfect balance, like Gracie’s presence did with mine.

Only the thought of her causes a painful twist in my guts. I can’t shake off that awful feeling. I think she’s already tired of me. She has not called me today. We haven’t spoken this year. Not that I haven’t tried, but she comes up with silly excuses each time. Her texts are so monotone.

For someone who spends so much time with her phone, she is doing great at missing my calls. I thought the new year signified new things—more love, texts, and calls. She has been everything but my Gracie. What if, like Mom, she has found her own Josef? Someone who can take her on daily dates and doesn’t get panic attacks when he sees a ghost from his past. Someone not me.

I kick the bag at my feet and groan. That’s another reason I was never in a relationship. If you don’t date, stuff like this won’t bother you. What if she is not okay? This is so unlike her. I pick up my phone on the nightstand to call her once more, and my lips twitch at her contact picture.

Gracie’s face is turned to the sun, eyes closed with her arms spread out. Warmth spreads through my chest as the memory from that day trickles over me, and my lips spread in a big grin. What do I mean by she has a Josef? She’ll kick me in the butt for thinking that. She loves me as I am.

She doesn’t need a Josef. I am enough for her.

The phone rings uninterruptedly. I try two more times. I don’t know why I bother trying these days. She won’t pick. But she will text later with an excuse so genuine I would believe it if it didn’t happen often.

On cue, my phone chimes. It’s a text from my girlfriend.

Gracie:sorry, was with mom. She’s cooking a storm.

As expected.

I am not sure why her text elicits a sad smile from me. Maybe because it was the same way it started with Mom. She would miss our calls and follow them with apologetic texts. The missed calls progressed to missed practices. She missed Asher’s dance classes a lot, so he gave it up.

Another peek at my screen, and my knees clench. Words lump in my throat, and my brain jumps into overdrive in an effort to excuse Gracie’s behavior. Okay, she was with her mother. If that’s the truth, why can’t she call back now she has access to her phone? Why is she okay with not speaking to her boyfriend for a week?

School resumes tomorrow, and we have not spoken about it. Am I picking her up? Is she picking us up? Asher prefers her driving us to school because it means more treats. She spoils him with her cookies. It’s one more reason I love Gracie. Anyone who cares about Asher has a good heart.

A growl shoots out of my lips when pain stings my forearm. I clutch the spot, and my eyes dart to the culprit—Asher. He balls his small hands into fists like he is ready to punch me. Little man can’t fight, but he likes to show off. I close my hands around his, and he slowly expels a breath.

“Where did you go, Benny?” Asher asks. He kneels on the bed. “I was talking to you.”

Confused, I mutter, “I was here.”

“No, you were in your head. You went somewhere in your head. Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” I tell him. His frown disappears, and he pulls a pillow between us. “What were you saying?”

Since the family dinner with Olivia and her mom, I might not have been the most attentive brother. My girlfriend is all I think about regularly. She is too chill with our silence. I can’t survive on texts alone. I want to hear her voice when she says she loves and misses me too.

Is she lying about it? Did I do something wrong?

A contrite smile touches my lips as I look at Asher. I did it again. I zoned out again. “Champ…”

Asher’s shoulders fall. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I need to think more of him and less of her. “Should we watch a movie?” He jumps out of bed and dashes to the door. “I’ll get your laptop.”

The only problem is, I don’t have a laptop. Josef can easily get me one, but it will add to the long list of items I have to repay him in the future. Throwing the bag over my shoulder, I walk out of the room but halt once my feet meet the wooden stairs. Twenty-four more steps, and I’ll be in the dining room. I hear their voices. Mom, Asher, and Josef. She’s not here, but I spin on my heel and head back to my room.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead. I toss the bag on the bed and pace the room, stopping in front of the flat-screen TV to stare at my reflection. My fingers rake through my hair. I suck in a sharp breath and try to control my galloping heart. I have everything I need up here to be comfortable.

TV, cable, speakers, and a connected bathroom.

Mom and Josef made sure of that. I barely go downstairs, which saves me from bumping into her. I sneak a look behind me, expecting her to jump out of the shadows, but nothing happens. Goosebumps break out on my skin, and my insides knot at the memory that ambushes me. I don’t enjoy coming here. It has her presence. But Mom won’t budge on this holiday rule.

She was absent this Christmas and the year before that. No one mentioned it or her thanksgiving visit, not even Asher. What if she left without dropping by the mansion? It looked like she came for me. Thinking of her makes my skin crawl and my palms clammy. I stalk to the window and wrench it open. She liked dark places. It is the reason I hate the dark.

The sky is cloudy, and the air is chilly. I spread out my arms to embrace it. Gracie will like this view. A tap on my back pulls me out of my reverie. Her scent hits me first. I hesitate to turn.

“Hey,” Mom says. She smiles, but it disappears before I can reciprocate it.

As usual, she looks perfect—flawless face, no hair out of place. She wears makeup in the house. I think it’s a rich people’s thing, and Josef is a filthy rich man. Mom is a full-time housewife, but the help visits every few days to clean up. They also have a professional chef. We didn’t have that when Dad was around. She reaches for my hand, our eyes meet, and her arm drops to her side.

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