I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,53
gift wrapping so fast I’m not even sure I saw it.
“About how I grew up?”
“Your home life, yes.” She pushes her finger against the gift, holding the wrapping in place, and tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear with the other hand. “Demi’s home life now.”
“You got some tissues?” I tease. “It’s a real sob story.”
“Pete…”
I sigh, pushing off my hands to lean more toward her. She won’t let me joke my way through this one.
“It’s not as bad as you think, I bet.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because you’re Candace, and you like to think a lot.”
She rips a piece of tape from the roll and sticks it to my arm hard. Some hair will probably come out when I yank it off.
“It’s your run of the mill CW drama. Dad likes pills, thinks he’s hiding the addiction, but his kids aren’t stupid. He fails a drug test, loses his job, and begs his adult kids to pay his bills. See? Not so bad.”
Her mouth pops open, her fingers completely missing the wrapping as she sticks the tape down. I take the gift from her now useless hands, trying to mimic what she’s been doing.
“Um…” She blinks. “How long?”
“Since he’s been abusing?” I lift a shoulder. “I think since I was eight. He got smashed up pretty bad at work. Dad’s a machinist… or was a machinist… anyway, he hurt himself and went in for surgery. After that, it was a nice trip he never wanted to return home from.”
The corners of her mouth turn down, and I know she’s giving me the exact reaction I expected, but it still blows. I don’t want her to stop teasing me or lecturing me. I don’t want her to stop being anything but who she is already. I don’t want to be coddled or pitied, because I do enough of that on my own. I want the escape, which is what she does so naturally.
“That’s…” She stops, her mind working to pick out the right word. I can easily fill in.
“Horrible? Unfair? Messed up?” I offer, but she shakes her head, the wrinkle above her nose making an appearance.
“Amazing.”
“Come again?”
She lets out a breathy laugh and pulls the gift out of my hands. She undoes the fold I just did and makes it fit better against the present. “It’s amazing, given what you all experience on the day to day, that you and your sisters are all so… fun. Happy.” She picks up the gift, examining her flawless work. “Seems like it’d be an easy road to be bitter.”
“I am bitter,” I argue, but she snorts.
“Pete, you are the least bitter person I know.” She sets the gift aside and plucks another from the box. “It’s crazy annoying sometimes—your enthusiasm for life.”
“I must hide it really well around you.” Which is probably true. It’s hard to be bitter around Candace when it’s so much more fun to tease her.
“If that’s true, go into acting.” She finishes up another present, the pile next to her growing. I’d reach out and help, but she’d most likely smack my hand away.
“So,” I say, needing to change the subject. I’m not used to her being so complimentary, and it’s making me itchy—wanting to inch closer to her. Good thing there’s a pile of wrapping to keep me from doing that. “Did you conquer your fear of kids tonight?”
“A fear of one kid,” she corrects. “Demi did most of the work, though.”
“Give yourself a little credit. Those stickers were gold.”
“I was so worried about them, too!” she exclaims, then hurries and lowers her voice since Demi’s snoozing just a door away. “I wasn’t sure if they’d be too young for her.”
“She’s a sticker fanatic.” She started collecting when the grocery store down the street would hand them out at the register. Every time I had to do a milk run, I’d get one for her. Mom isn’t too thrilled with the obsession—every sticker has found itself on Dem’s wall and bed frame. Hey, it gives it character.
“Honestly, I thought for a second you were secretly making me tackle another fear tonight.”
My curiosity piques. “You don’t say. Which one?”
She nibbles the inside of that lip, and it drives my nervous system haywire.
“I thought you were going to ambush me with a party,” she mumbles into her flannel pajamas. The corner of my mouth picks up, and I lift my leg, resting my elbow on my knee.
“Level… blue?”
“Green.”
“Oh, so not so bad.”
“Pete…”
“Why don’t you throw