Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
This shirt would be the closest I ever came to that girl. That’s what I told myself.
Maybe this time, for once in the past decade, I wouldn’t be lying.
Chapter Eight
Rosie
Julian’s fabric softener had a different smell to ours. Lavender, I think. I kept catching the scent of it as I dashed around the kitchen. It distracted me. I wasn’t up to my usual form.
“Rosie!” Kieran said. “Get with it. The two stuffed crusts need taking out!”
Stuffed crust.
I was right back in Julian’s kitchen, staring into his bright green eyes. I was going out of my mind. All I could think about was him.
Saturdays were always busy. I was exhausted when I reached the end of the day shift and grabbed my bag from the staffroom. It was raining outside when I walked home, so I hit my bedroom as soon as I was through the door, ignoring Mum in the kitchen, since she was busy laughing on the phone.
I stripped off my uniform and ditched it for something dry and cosy – my favourites – some PJ bottoms and a faded t-shirt with a cartoon kitten on. Mum was still chatting away when I went in to make myself a cup of tea. For once, I didn’t make her one. She ended her call with a catch you soon. Eight, right?
I knew from her giggle that she was talking to Scottie as she said goodbye.
“He’s coming over again, then?” I asked.
She looked almost sheepish, despite the fact that she was still grinning.
“Things are a lot better between us. He’s learnt from his mistakes. And I’ve learnt from mine, too.”
I could have shaken her in an attempt to make her see sense, but there would be no point. I could have screeched and screamed that he was still the loser he always was, and one stupid night of hanging out in the living room didn’t change a thing, but I’d tried that plenty of times before.
“Fine,” I said, and she almost jolted back, surprised.
“You’re ok with it?”
I scoffed. “As if. But what difference would it make?”
“He really has changed this time.”
“Like every time. Sure.”
“You can ask him about it yourself later. He wants to see you. He wants to tell you himself.”
I was glaring when I looked at her. “I have nothing to say, other than the fact I hate him and wish he’d fuck off and never come back.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“A bit harsh? He nearly fucking killed you!”
She fiddled with some plates on the side, silent.
“I mean it, Mum. I don’t want to see him. He can fuck off!”
She sighed. “Jayden has been working through things with him, you know. He’s getting anger management therapy. He’s already been to the doctor’s about it.”
“Sure he has. Like always. He’s a liar.”
“He’s trying, Rosie. We all are!”
I could have thrown my cup of tea across the room.
“He’s not trying! He never does. He’s full of shit, and you know it. He knows it. Jayden knows it. We ALL know it, but one bunch of shitty flowers and some love talk makes it all ok!”
I took a breath and tried to calm myself down. She was getting upset, and I reminded myself that Scottie was the piece of shit. Not her. Mum was someone caught up in his lies and bullshit, desperate for someone to love her. She always had been, since her parents threw her out at seventeen after finding out she was pregnant. In her world, she was unlovable. In her universe, she was a failure who should take Scottie’s love at any cost. Sometimes I got so angry that I wished he’d get hit by a car when he was stumbling, drunk along the roadside. If only I was loaded enough to pay a hitman to finish him off, and then whisk Mum out of this place, to somewhere great and happy, with an unlimited amount of therapy to help her work on her self-esteem. She deserved so much more than this shithole.
Mum changed the subject, looking at me as I sipped at my tea.
“Where did you go last night? Trisha said you didn’t show up at hers.”
“Oh, really. So she was expecting me, then? She’d have probably seen me if she’d have opened her front door and shot so much as a glance outside. I spent hours sitting out there, in the corridor, waiting for you to let me back in.”
She looked like I’d stabbed her.
“You could have gone to Trisha’s, or Jayden’s! You could have gone out with your work friends, too. They usually head out on a Friday.”
“I didn’t want to. I wanted to come home.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be here, though. Not around Scottie. I know you struggle at first.”
“Thanks for the consideration.”
I needed to stop with the sarcasm. I closed my eyes, trying to centre myself. I cursed under my breath. I hated this shit.