He told me to stay out of his way.
He said I didn't belong in his world.
He called me a spoiled brat.
Tristan Malone was an a**hat of the highest power. The black sheep of the Malone family, so why had I been crushing on him since grade school? The...
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I snuggled deeper into my pillow, willing the beams of sunlight to be swept behind a cloud. Yesterday had been rough, and I wasn't ready to face the day, but the thing about living in Florida, the sun shined seven days of the week regardless of how shitty you felt inside.
Footsteps sounded outside my room, followed by the creaking of wooden stairs. I listened as they moved to the kitchen, a familiar sound. Soft voices, one male and one female floated from under my slightly cracked door.
"Mom," I whispered, recognizing her sultry laugh.
I knew their routine, the same each morning regardless if it was a weekday or weekend. My mom sipped coffee and nibbled on granola as she poured a cup for my dad. He'd eat his bowl of Raisin Bran, guzzling his coffee like it was a caffeine drip, while he listened to the daily news.
The urge to run downstairs overwhelmed me. I dug my fingers into the bed, knowing there was no one down there. Dad wasn't home. And Mom... She wasn't there either. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, followed by another until the memory was gone, washed away like the morning tide.
Pain fractured in my chest, splintering until my limbs felt heavy, pinning me to the bed. I wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over my head and sleep the day away. But even in sleep, it didn't always take away the hurt, the shame, or the regret. Those would be with me always, regardless of where I was.
I loosed a breath, relaxing my fingers one by one, and stared at the white ceiling. It had been weeks since I'd an "episode" as I termed them. Those muddied moments where I forget what had happened, where I have real-like dreams of my life before, or the worst, when I hear her talking to me.
Being with the Malone's had helped chase away the episodes, or at the very least, reduce the frequency.
Now I was back home, and so was my past, the one that haunted me every second of every day.
I felt a headache poking at my temples when my phone buzzed on the bed beside me and I groaned. Ignore it, that little voice inside me said.I didn't want to talk to anyone, but the person texting me didn't seem to give a shit about what I wanted.
It buzzed again.
Swearing, I reached across the bed and unlocked the home screen to see three missed texts from Preston. The last one said he said: Ev, If you don't answer me, I'm coming over.
Uh, hell no.
I owed Preston an explanation for my odd behavior yesterday, but why did it have to be so goddamn early in the morning? One of Preston's flaws. He was an early riser. Where I, like Tristan, preferred to sleep in.
My teeth ground together at the thought of Tristan and I sharing any sort of habits. I couldn't believe I had crushed on him for like ever. So much for being a good judge of character. I had been warned and had always known he was trouble, but trouble in my mind didn't always mean bad.
