Craving Absolution
Page 36
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“Come on in.” I waved my arm toward the living room, and with no hesitation Cameron walked in and dropped down onto the couch. “You want something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” he replied in a careless show of manners. “I like your place. Casper said you haven’t had time to make it girly, but I think it’s nice the way it is. My mom has—” His voice cracked for a second time. “—h-had a ton of pillows and stuff.”
The boy was acting as if he wasn’t scared out of his mind, but his hands rubbed over his thighs over and over as if he couldn’t sit still. I was completely out of my element. I’d always had an easy time comforting Will, but this kid was different. He was too old to comfort with a bowl of Cheerios.
“I’ll just, uh, call Grease, okay?”
He nodded, not saying a word, and I walked quickly into my bedroom.
It only rang once before Grease picked up.
“Dude. You need to get over here, pronto,” I growled through my teeth.
“You okay?” I could hear Grease moving around on the other end of the line. “You just fucking left.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But okay, so, I walk home, right? And I don’t notice anything at first—”
“Get to the fucking point, Farrah.”
“CameronisherelookingforCody,” I told him in a rush. “I don’t know what the fuck to do!”
“What?” he whispered back in disbelief.
“Tommy and Trish’s son Cameron IS IN MY APARTMENT!” I yelled, then immediately covered my mouth with my hand, looking toward the bedroom doorway. I was trying to keep my shit together, but seriously, it was like fucking Lazarus rising from the dead.
“Holy fuck. You sure? I’m almost there.” He hung up before I could reply, and I made myself walk calmly back into the living room, even though I wanted to run.
“So you’ve been here before, huh?” I said, startling the poor kid so badly, he jumped up off the couch and whirled to face me.
“Yeah, I was with Casper when he stopped to pick something up,” he answered nervously. “I didn’t hang out here or anything!”
“Hey, no sweat, man. Mi casa es su casa. You can hang here whenever you want.”
We were both babbling, and I had no idea what had just come out of my mouth. Did I really just tell some kid I didn’t know that he could hang out at my house? Shit. Fuck. I didn’t know what to do! Where the hell was Grease?
Cameron seemed to relax a little at my words, so I couldn’t take them back. I would have done anything at that point to calm the poor guy down. He wasn’t going to come hang out anyway, so I didn’t know why I was even thinking about it. Shit. We watched each other, standing at opposite ends of the room, and I sighed in relief when Grease came barreling in the door.
“Cam!” he shouted, practically running to where Cameron was standing so he could wrap his arms around him in a huge hug. I felt like I was intruding as I watched Grease grip the back of Cameron’s neck and kiss the side of his head. “Hey, bud, you okay?”
I didn’t hear Cameron’s answer, but I did read Grease’s lips as he raised his head and asked me to call the very last man on earth I’d ever want to talk to. Goddamn it. It wasn’t like I could tell him, “No, thank you. I pretty much hate him and would rather have an apartment full of snakes than that asshole in here,” when I had a preteen in my living room who had no idea most of his family was dead.
For the second time that day, I walked quietly into my room and fought the bile in my throat as I scrolled through the contacts list on my phone. Cody had programmed quite a few numbers into it when I’d moved here, so I couldn’t even use the excuse of not knowing the freaking number.
“Slider,” he answered, making my stomach knot up.
“It’s your wayward daughter,” I replied sarcastically. “You need to come over to my apartment.”
There was an awkward pause, neither of us comfortable with my request, but eventually he spoke again.
“To what do I owe this invitation?”
Was that hope in his voice? It took all that I had not to hang up. Fucking douche. Like I’d really invite him over to hang out.
“Cameron’s here,” I answered flatly. “He went home this morning to a burned-down house and came looking for Casper.”
His voice grew dark. “Farrah, if this is some game you’re playing . . .”
“I’m not an asshole, apparently that isn’t something you can inherit. He’s in my living room with Grease.”
“Good Christ,” he muttered quietly.
“See you soon, Pops.” I hung up and stood silently in my bedroom.
My hands shook and my chest felt tight at the thought of my father walking into my apartment. I didn’t like him, I didn’t want to see him, and I sure as hell didn’t want him there. The apartment was my space. Mine. I was finally able to sleep there alone, which I knew I’d be doing for the next week, at least until Cody came home. I was afraid the minute Slider walked in the front door it would be tainted, turning it into yet another place where I didn’t feel comfortable.
After the mess with Cody that morning, finding out about Trisha and the kids, the fight with Grease, Cameron showing up at my apartment, and now my father on his way, I was at my breaking point. I sat down heavily on my quilt, rubbing my fingers along the stitching. I could call Gram, but I knew she had her hands full with Callie and Will, and we sure as shit didn’t need all of them traipsing into my apartment.
“No, thank you,” he replied in a careless show of manners. “I like your place. Casper said you haven’t had time to make it girly, but I think it’s nice the way it is. My mom has—” His voice cracked for a second time. “—h-had a ton of pillows and stuff.”
The boy was acting as if he wasn’t scared out of his mind, but his hands rubbed over his thighs over and over as if he couldn’t sit still. I was completely out of my element. I’d always had an easy time comforting Will, but this kid was different. He was too old to comfort with a bowl of Cheerios.
“I’ll just, uh, call Grease, okay?”
He nodded, not saying a word, and I walked quickly into my bedroom.
It only rang once before Grease picked up.
“Dude. You need to get over here, pronto,” I growled through my teeth.
“You okay?” I could hear Grease moving around on the other end of the line. “You just fucking left.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But okay, so, I walk home, right? And I don’t notice anything at first—”
“Get to the fucking point, Farrah.”
“CameronisherelookingforCody,” I told him in a rush. “I don’t know what the fuck to do!”
“What?” he whispered back in disbelief.
“Tommy and Trish’s son Cameron IS IN MY APARTMENT!” I yelled, then immediately covered my mouth with my hand, looking toward the bedroom doorway. I was trying to keep my shit together, but seriously, it was like fucking Lazarus rising from the dead.
“Holy fuck. You sure? I’m almost there.” He hung up before I could reply, and I made myself walk calmly back into the living room, even though I wanted to run.
“So you’ve been here before, huh?” I said, startling the poor kid so badly, he jumped up off the couch and whirled to face me.
“Yeah, I was with Casper when he stopped to pick something up,” he answered nervously. “I didn’t hang out here or anything!”
“Hey, no sweat, man. Mi casa es su casa. You can hang here whenever you want.”
We were both babbling, and I had no idea what had just come out of my mouth. Did I really just tell some kid I didn’t know that he could hang out at my house? Shit. Fuck. I didn’t know what to do! Where the hell was Grease?
Cameron seemed to relax a little at my words, so I couldn’t take them back. I would have done anything at that point to calm the poor guy down. He wasn’t going to come hang out anyway, so I didn’t know why I was even thinking about it. Shit. We watched each other, standing at opposite ends of the room, and I sighed in relief when Grease came barreling in the door.
“Cam!” he shouted, practically running to where Cameron was standing so he could wrap his arms around him in a huge hug. I felt like I was intruding as I watched Grease grip the back of Cameron’s neck and kiss the side of his head. “Hey, bud, you okay?”
I didn’t hear Cameron’s answer, but I did read Grease’s lips as he raised his head and asked me to call the very last man on earth I’d ever want to talk to. Goddamn it. It wasn’t like I could tell him, “No, thank you. I pretty much hate him and would rather have an apartment full of snakes than that asshole in here,” when I had a preteen in my living room who had no idea most of his family was dead.
For the second time that day, I walked quietly into my room and fought the bile in my throat as I scrolled through the contacts list on my phone. Cody had programmed quite a few numbers into it when I’d moved here, so I couldn’t even use the excuse of not knowing the freaking number.
“Slider,” he answered, making my stomach knot up.
“It’s your wayward daughter,” I replied sarcastically. “You need to come over to my apartment.”
There was an awkward pause, neither of us comfortable with my request, but eventually he spoke again.
“To what do I owe this invitation?”
Was that hope in his voice? It took all that I had not to hang up. Fucking douche. Like I’d really invite him over to hang out.
“Cameron’s here,” I answered flatly. “He went home this morning to a burned-down house and came looking for Casper.”
His voice grew dark. “Farrah, if this is some game you’re playing . . .”
“I’m not an asshole, apparently that isn’t something you can inherit. He’s in my living room with Grease.”
“Good Christ,” he muttered quietly.
“See you soon, Pops.” I hung up and stood silently in my bedroom.
My hands shook and my chest felt tight at the thought of my father walking into my apartment. I didn’t like him, I didn’t want to see him, and I sure as hell didn’t want him there. The apartment was my space. Mine. I was finally able to sleep there alone, which I knew I’d be doing for the next week, at least until Cody came home. I was afraid the minute Slider walked in the front door it would be tainted, turning it into yet another place where I didn’t feel comfortable.
After the mess with Cody that morning, finding out about Trisha and the kids, the fight with Grease, Cameron showing up at my apartment, and now my father on his way, I was at my breaking point. I sat down heavily on my quilt, rubbing my fingers along the stitching. I could call Gram, but I knew she had her hands full with Callie and Will, and we sure as shit didn’t need all of them traipsing into my apartment.
