Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Who said something to you, Riv?” I asked again, instead of arguing with him about it. Of course I knew he could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to have someone at his back.
“Jesus Christ, you’re relentless. No one said shit to me, and if they did, I’d handle it. They look at me like I’m trash because I’ve always been trash, but I don’t give a fuck about that. Just…I feel like I’m suffocating with people’s stares weighing me down. People don’t know me in Bedford, so that doesn’t happen there.”
I was speechless for a moment, unsure what to say. Riven’s response couldn’t have been more unexpected. He didn’t open up like that, and I was honored as hell that he had with me. “You’re not trash,” was the first thing that came out of my mouth.
“Aren’t I? I was shit to Becca when we were together.”
“Not like Rex is.”
“Is that the metric we’re using to judge who is good and who isn’t? I still didn’t treat her right.”
“She cheated on you.” Guilt exploded in my gut, talking about her that way, but it was true.
“I wasn’t good to her, Parrish. And the best thing you could think of to say about me last night was that I broke a woman’s window and stole her purse so you didn’t have to. I might not have been the one to knock Jerry down and kill him that night, but it could have easily been me. I’ve stolen, sold drugs, cheated, hurt people. I’m trash. You having a crush on me when you were a kid doesn’t change that.”
In some ways, he was right. I wasn’t an idiot. Riv had done bad shit. I had done bad shit too, but… “I refuse to believe that means you can’t ever be anything different than what you were. What is the point of life if that’s the case? What’s the point in trying to be better if we’re still judged by the past? Some of that same shit you did, I did too, and I won’t ever believe that I can’t try to be a better person. That Rex couldn’t if he wanted to. Life would be a cruel joke otherwise.”
“It’s a cruel joke now.”
“No, Riv. It’s not.”
His gaze flashed to mine before returning to the road. “It was different for you,” he said quietly.
“What was different for me?”
“The shit you did. I was there because I wanted to be. Because I was just like Rex. You did shit because you had a fucked-up dad and brother pressuring you. You were a kid and didn’t know better.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I knew right from wrong. If I’m not allowed to make a martyr out of you, you’re not allowed to make one out of me either.”
He sighed. We were never going to agree on this, and I could tell that Riven was done with the conversation. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Because you’re stubborn,” I teased.
“Think that’s you.”
I was stubborn when it came to him. I didn’t understand it, but that had always been the case, and apparently, it always would be. “You were sixteen and Rex tried to steal the tip jar at a coffeehouse when the employee went to the back. You stopped him. When he got you into selling drugs, your rule was no kids, and you said that if you found out he did, you would beat his ass and be done with it. When you caught me trying to use coke, you flushed that shit and told me you’d kick my ass if you ever caught me again. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Betsy. If Lainey were yours, you’d be a better father to her than Rex ever will. Maybe we’re trash to some people, but that’s just because we didn’t know we could be more. And now that we do, we’re trying our best to be better than we used to be. To be better than our parents or those around us. What more can we do?”
Riven didn’t respond right away. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, brows furrowed beneath the snapback of his hat.
Finally, he nodded, and I figured that was as good as I was going to get, but damned if it didn’t make me smile.
*
Riven didn’t argue when we got back to his place and I immediately started to help him get the cameras installed. Betsy had kept his old tools and supplies, so we dug them out of the shed and got to work.
It was clear Betsy thought we were idiots and there was no reason to do this, but she didn’t stop us. We installed a few on the house—both the front and back for different angles—one on Riven’s apartment, and another angled down the driveway. All of it was controlled by an app on his phone, and while part of me wondered if it was overkill, it made him feel like Betsy was more secure, and that was the most important thing.