Page 29 of Wanted You More

We both know she doesn’t.

If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to.

I share a short look with Noah before he closes my door, his eyes giving me a subtle plea.

Play nice.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Afew daysafter my night out with Noah and Bailey, who’s as annoyingly nice as she looks, I cave to my lingering depression. Putting the joint to my lips, I inhale as I sink into the cushions of my window seat. It’s getting too cold to keep the window open for long because of the chilly breeze, but I welcome the nippy air against my bare skin.

From a distance, I watch as trick-or-treaters take the streets with their families. I hear distant laughter. See porch lights flicker on and people greet little kids with bowls of candy.

We stopped celebrating Halloween the year Mom died. We didn’t celebrate a lot of things. Birthdays. Holidays. What did we have to be happy about? Dad was sad. Mom was dead. I was hurt. And Wolfe was traumatized.

I thought we’d go back to normal eventually. Whatever normal was. Without Mom, it never felt like it used to. Dad would at least try on our birthdays, buying us our favorite flavored cake and a few presents. But that was it. Gone were the candy-packed Halloweens and food-covered tables for Thanksgiving. And Christmas? The first year was the hardest.

Because we’d already lost so much.

And then Santa never came.

I remember Dad saying good night to me that night and me asking, “Were we bad this year and that’s why Santa didn’t come?”

Dad tried to hide it, but I saw his eyes water. I wanted to understand why we’d been punished by so many people when we weren’t the bad guys. But all Dad said was, “No, honey. You and your brother were the best kids this year.”

It was shortly after that Christmas I found out Santa didn’t exist because a boy at school told me.

I don’t know what’s worse.

Santa not coming to deliver toys.

Or Dad not even trying to.

Now that I’m older, it seems like holidays have lost their magic anyway. I can easily go to the store tomorrow and buy a ton of candy for half off. No costumes other than my resting bitch face required.

Taking another drag of my joint, I blow out the plume of smoke and watch it disappear into the night. I’ve missed the calm that marijuana always brings me. My anxiety and pain melt away with every inhale, and my depression eases with each exhale.

There’s a numbness to the subtle drug.

A welcoming chance to feel…nothing.

But, like always, the moment is ruined by a knock on my door. “I can smell that,” Wolfe says begrudgingly, walking in and closing the door quietly behind him. “Dad fell asleep on the couch watching the news again.”

“Why is he torturing himself with that?”

They’ve been running nothing but political ads and smear campaigns on TV leading up to the elections being held next week. Thankfully, that means no more calls from offices wanting to talk about partnering with the senator-elect to better the community he’s serving. The bad news is that the very same man was predicted to win, which means it won’t be the end of his borderline harassment if he actually wants to make a difference.

Wolfe shrugs, walking over and making himself comfortable on my bed. “I don’t know. He wanted to know who was going to win, I guess. But it obviously wasn’t that interesting because his snoring got so loud I could barely hear what the news anchors were saying.”

I snort, grinning as I lift the joint to my lips. “Sounds like Dad,” I comment before taking another drag.

I vaguely remember Mom telling Dad he needed to get patches to help with his snoring because it kept her up at night. He used to try any method he read about, but it never worked.

Wolfe watches me with a frown on his face but doesn’t comment on the issue he has with me smoking. “Do you think he’s going to be okay for Thanksgiving? I heard on the news that people have been struggling to find turkeys, and we’re basically a month out.”

Since when did he care about Thanksgiving? “I don’t know, Wolfe. Why does it matter?”

He makes a face. “Because last year when you tried making the meal, you bought a ton of those nasty Hungry Man frozen turkey meals and heated them up pretending you cooked everything yourself. The turkey was rubbery, and the mashed potatoes tasted weird.”

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