I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,43

paycheck, help out more at home. And the expenses were my fault; I ate too much food, spent too much time on the TV, left lights on… and I believed every word of it.

“How could I be happy about this, Dad?” I ask him, my voice utterly defeated. I won’t win this argument. I never could. I’ll be sending a payment to his mortgage company just as soon as I get to a computer. Unfortunately, I don’t trust him with cash. “You chose your drugs over your family.”

“I don’t smoke anymore.”

I’m not talking about the weed, and he knows it. “The drug test was a fluke?”

“Yes.”

He’s always denied it, and there he goes again. But I know where the stash is. I know what times of day he pops one. I’ve stolen some of it before, back when I was fourteen and in the first stages of my rebel years. Candace would probably shit a brick if she knew that I once stole my dad’s fentanyl and then dumped it after one dose just for spite.

And he didn’t say anything. Still hasn’t. He doesn’t abuse drugs, after all.

“Look, I gotta clock back in,” I tell him, not completely untrue. I want at least ten minutes of shut-eye. “I’ll make a payment to your mortgage company tomorrow, okay?”

“And Christmas?” he grunts. “You still taking Demi for that?”

“Yes.” I won’t let him decide that for me, too. “Mad and I will pick her up on the 24th.”

He hangs up the same way he answers—no warning. I put the phone down and rest it on my leg, rubbing out the stress from my eyes. Maddie won’t be too happy with me; with paying his mortgage and Christmas, I won’t have much left to contribute to our own utilities. She’s been out of the house as much as I have, but she’s preparing for her boarding competition and hasn’t had much luck on the second job front. Not many places are willing to be so flexible.

I take note of the time. She’s boarding in the Wheel Zone right now. I should probably go warn her.

Right as I go to stand up, another vibration from my phone pauses my butt mid-rise from the couch.

Mom.

I let out another groan and flump back down. “Hi, Mom.”

“What’s this about taking my baby away for Christmas?” Mom and Dad have the same phone etiquette.

“Not all day.” I pick at the T on my cap. “Just for the morning.”

“And you’re going to spend the day with your father and I, right?” Her accusatory tone shrinks me to five years old, and that’s just her mom power over the phone.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit. The sound of the break door opening turns my head toward the entrance. “I’m not up to seeing Dad right now.”

I catch the smallest bit of reddish hair and wide brown eyes before they duck back behind the corner. I smirk at the wall, wondering if Candace believes she’s really that stealthy.

“It’s Christmas, Peter.” Mom voice again. “You can’t take all my kids away.”

“Do you have stuff planned, Mom?”

“You know we can’t afford—”

“Then you’re welcome to stop by my place.” My parents have not set foot in my apartment, and it’s not for a lack of invitation. The apartment is a touchy subject, since both Mad and I moved out before either of them was ready. Mom, emotionally and Dad, financially.

“You know your father won’t be happy.”

“He should be,” I bite. I know she’s not the reason I’m so upset, but I can’t help but let the bitterness out now. I’m getting lectured about Christmas after Dad told me they weren’t doing anything and after I committed to paying their mortgage. “He doesn’t have to worry about a disappointed ten-year-old again.”

I let out a long breath, eyeing the corner where I know Candace is hidden. “Can we talk later, Mom? I have to get back to work.”

“Fine.” She hangs up, and I try not to bury my face again. Candace wouldn’t like to discover the guy she hired to teach her to be bad weeping over an argument with his parents.

“You can come out now,” I say, forcing my classic smirk onto my face. Her dark brown eyes peer out from the corner, and an apologetic wrinkle pulls her brow.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “I didn’t mean to listen—”

“You completely meant to listen!” I say with a laugh. Her eyes narrow, and she gives me a good whack in the shoulder as she sits. A lightness