Page 57 of Broken By the Bad Boy

“Yeah,” he replies, “Mom told me.”

Dinner was horrid. They didn’t stop talking about it. How can they be excited about uprooting me from here and moving to another city? I expect Hayden to say more, but he doesn’t. He likes the idea.

“Are you going to stop them?” I ask.

The poster on my door doesn’t offer me any comfort. Michele’s smile doesn’t fuel me with the drive to fight better like it used to do when I recently got her poster. It’s not about the fight as much as it is about leaving Benny. I collapse on the bed with a sigh, stand, then sit. Hayden drags in a breath. I clench my fist on my knee, waiting for his reply.

“Stop them from being happy?”

At that, the knife in my gut twists, and my eyes water. I also want them to be happy.

“Tessa?” he calls out, but I don’t answer.

A sob catches in my throat. Tears roll down my cheeks and blur my vision. Did he really have to say that? I’m not the bad guy. I swipe the back of my hand against my eyes and flip the switch. My heart hurts too much. I pry the phone from my ear and crawl into bed, taking solace in the darkness.

Hayden’s breathing from the other end reminds me the call is still in progress. Sometimes, he talks without thinking. I pluck the phone from the bed to end the call when his voice comes on.

“You don’t want to go?” Hayden whispers.

“I never said that,” I blurt out. I fist the sheet and stare at the ceiling. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Yep. You don’t want to go.” He laughs. The sound aggravates me and my eyes twitch. “Maria is not there anymore. You don’t have any friends in BH. You should be jumping at this chance to leave that dungeon.”

Yes, big brother. Thanks for reminding me about my lonely, miserable life before Ben and my inability to make friends. Because he was the school’s golden boy doesn’t give him the right to mock the introverts.

“Goodnight, Hayden.”

I end the call and shove the phone under a pillow. It rings almost immediately, but I ignore it. He should go talk to his friends because I’m tired. Minutes later, a knock sounds on my door. Light from the hallway streams into my room as the door opens. Mom stands in the doorway, watching me. I hold my breath and count the seconds until she leaves. Unfortunately, she takes a step into my room.

The bed dips. Mom pulls the cover over my chest and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. I release my breath slowly so as not to alert her, but she pushes one leg on the bed and slides in beside me.

Great.

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

Mom chuckles. She props her elbow on the second pillow, and her other hand continuously runs over one part of my face. I know she can’t see me in the dark, but I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe she will go away.

“Hayden has been trying to reach you.”

Of course, he will call her. He knows I can hold a grudge. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

My hand dives under the cover, but she finds it and sandwiches it between hers. I listen to the sound of her breathing until I can’t take it any longer. My back connects to the headboard, I push myself up and bring my knees to my chest. Mom flips the corner lamp, casting a soft glow on the bed.

“What’s going on with you and your brother, huh? Don’t give me that look, Theresa. Hayden asked me to talk to you. He didn’t say anything, but I know what the problem might be.” Mom releases a sigh that hangs over us for a second. “You are not happy about moving to New York.”

“It’s not that,” I whisper in reply.

My teeth sink into my lip, my jaw touches my knee, and I wrap my arms around my legs. I don’t meet Mom’s gaze, so she sits in front of me and crosses her legs. Taking both of my hands, she smiles.

“Then it’s what? Talk to me.” She releases my hands and leans back with her arms behind her to support her position. I don’t like how she’s staring at me. My gaze lowers to her feet. “Sweetheart?”

If I say anything, it will only make her feel bad. I don’t want to ruin their chance at happiness.

“I don’t understand why you’re not happy.” Because she wants to separate me from my loving boyfriend. How can I be happy? “Maria is in Las Vegas. It’s about a minute from New York,” she says with a small laugh that dies off when I don’t respond. It is not as close as she makes it sound. A few hours by plane. “Sweetheart. What’s wrong? New York is where your dreams are.”

“New York is a great place,” I add because I have been quiet for too long. “It’s a cool city.”

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