Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“No longer sneaking alcohol?”
“Listen, grown-ups drink alcohol.”
“Alcoholics drink alcohol like you.”
“I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Are you sure?”
“Anyway, as I was saying. I’m not just scared of Mom and Dad finding out because I’ll get kicked out of the house. I’m scared that Mom will get really low again, but this time what if she tries to kill herself?”
“Eve, I think you’re overreacting. Mom is not the type of person to do that.”
I frowned. It was easy for her to say. She didn’t know what I knew. I opened my mouth to tell her because I’d carried the burden alone for too long, but the words clogged in my throat.
“Eve?”
I quickly wiped my tears. “I’m here. Um, I should go so you don’t have a big phone bill.”
“It’s fine. You can call collect anytime. And I think you need to tell them. Keeping secrets is painful, and covering them up only sets you up for more trouble and more lies. Learn from my experience. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I managed without my voice cracking.
“Tell everyone ‘hi’ and we’ll see them at Thanksgiving.”
I cleared my throat. “I can’t, stupid. I’m calling you collect from a phone booth so that nobody knows about our call.”
“Oh.” She giggled. “True. Sorry. See you in a few weeks then.”
“Bye.”
I wasn’t that girl. The one who carried hidden scars from my past. As I hung up the phone and opened the door, I pulled in a long breath and let it out while heading to my car and repeating it again.
I wasn’t that girl.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PAT BENATAR, “LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD”
Eve
“Hey, we thought you might be taking the night off. So I’ve managed to make a frozen pizza with one arm,” Kyle said when I stepped inside the back door. “As long as I can take it out of the oven with one hand.”
“I’ll help!” Josh ran toward the oven with a hot pad in his hands.
“Stand back, buddy,” Kyle said, opening the oven. “And keep Clifford back too.”
“I’ve got it.” I set my Gatorade bottle on the counter and took the cookie sheet from Kyle. Then I used the spatula to scoot the pizza onto it. “Oh!”
“Josh!” Kyle yelled as I bumped into him, and the pizza slid off the cookie sheet.
A blood-curdling scream filled the room.
“Dammit!” Kyle pulled Josh toward the sink and lifted him up.
“Eve, turn on the cold water.”
I stood stunned, staring at the hot pizza sauce and cheese burning Josh’s arm.
“EVE!” Kyle yelled.
I jumped and turned on the water.
Josh screamed.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, but it was barely a whisper because I couldn’t believe what had happened.
“We have to go to the hospital. It’ll be okay, buddy,” Kyle said.
“Eve, grab a clean towel.”
I stared at the burned skin along Josh’s arm.
“Eve!”
My gaze snapped from Josh’s arm to Kyle’s face.
That’s when we made eye contact.
Kyle frowned. “Give me the goddamn towel, Eve!”
I handed him the towel as Josh cried uncontrollably.
“Look at me,” Kyle said, wrapping Josh’s arm in the towel.
Everything felt like a bad dream. His cries pierced my ears.
“Look. At. Me!” Kyle demanded. It took him less than two seconds to get his answer. “Go home.”
“But he needs to go to the emergency room,” I said.
“Are you going to drive him?”
I winced at his sharp tone and slowly shook my head. “I’ll ride in the back seat with him.”
“Hold on to my neck, Josh,” Kyle instructed Josh to put his good arm around his neck.
“I’ll carry him.”
“You won’t,” he said, lifting Josh with his one good arm. “Shut off the oven and grab my keys.”
I turned in a slow circle, looking for the keys.
“On the counter, Eve.”
I found his keys and opened the door. Then I climbed into the back of the truck with Josh while Kyle drove to the ER.
“Shh … you’ll be okay,” I said, trying to soothe Josh on the way.
When we arrived, I helped Josh out of the truck and Kyle held him with his good arm and a grimace on his face. It was clearly hurting his injured arm.
“You can’t go inside. Just stay in the truck,” he said.
“But—”
“Eve! Just do as I say.”
After they disappeared into the entrance, I closed the truck door and wiped my tear-stained cheeks.
What had I done?
Two hours later, Josh had his arm wrapped, a sticker, and a pack of wafer cookies for being a good little patient, and Kyle was tucking him in bed. I stepped back into the hallway.
Kyle closed his door halfway and nodded toward the stairs. When we reached the kitchen, I turned and rested my hands on the counter’s edge behind me. Kyle picked up the bottle of Gatorade and held it between his legs to open it. My gaze dropped to the floor as he took a sip.
“Booze,” he mumbled. “You can’t be drunk around my son. What the hell is wrong with you? You dropped a fucking hot pizza onto him. He has second-degree burns that might leave scars all along his arm. What the hell were you thinking?”