your friend some more, honey. Poor girl looks like she hasn’t had liver and onions in years.”
“I haven’t.” Grace smiled as she put her plate in Skylar’s outstretched hand. “No one in my family likes it, so my mom doesn’t make it.” She shook her head. “And that’s a shame. Because I love it.”
“Well, I’m going to make sure Skylar lets you know the next time we have it. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thank you, Jack.”
As they ate, she and Skylar talked with Jack for a while. He enjoyed watching sports, and even though Grace didn’t understand most of what he was talking about, she liked listening to him. He seemed happy to have company, and Grace couldn’t help but like him.
“Where’s your room?” Grace asked as she helped Skylar take their dishes to the kitchen.
“Just down the hall.”
Grace followed her around a corner, down a small hallway. They turned into a room on the left, and Grace swallowed hard. It was almost like a giant closet with a small twin bed, a nightstand, and clothes hanging on a rack by the door. All dark-colored clothes. It should have been the most depressing room on the planet, but like the rest of the house, there was something welcoming about it. Maybe it’s the smell of that amazing liver and onions.
Bear strolled in, jumped on the bed, and rested his head between his front paws.
“Bear . . .” Skylar pointed her finger at him and shook her head. “Not your bed.”
The dog didn’t move, but Grace could tell that Skylar hadn’t expected him to. They sat down on each side of him, and Grace glanced around at the framed pictures on the walls, mostly of Skylar and her father. A couple of them were taken long ago and had a little girl in them—probably Skylar—with her mother. Skylar looked completely different in all the shots, wearing bright colors, her hair a dark blond. She was much younger in most of the photos, except for one of her and her father that was taken recently, and Skylar looked to be holding an award of some sort.
“So what kind of work does your dad do?” Grace turned to face Skylar as she petted Bear.
“He’s an electrician. When he’s able to work, he subcontracts for Tony Belton’s company.” Skylar leaned down and tied the laces on one of her army boots. “I’m going to get out of this town, get a degree, and then get a good job. First thing I’ll do is get Dad a better house and make sure he has enough money for his medications. Sometimes I know he’s gone without . . .” Skylar sat up again. “For me.”
Grace thought for a moment. “Doesn’t he have insurance?”
Skylar shook her head as she tucked one leg beneath her on the bed. “He gets some assistance . . . you know . . . from the government.”
Grace didn’t know, so she asked the one burning question in her mind. “Did you start cutting because of your dad’s problems?”
Grace hated to bring up the subject, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Skylar had felt some of the same things Grace did.
“No, I stopped cutting because of his problems.” Skylar tucked her hair behind her ears. “He never knew anything about it. It started a couple of years ago. I didn’t really have any friends, didn’t fit in, and . . . I just tried it one day.” She paused, then rolled up her black, long-sleeved shirt, and Grace gasped as she eyed the deep scars, much worse than Grace’s. “But as good as it felt at the time, I knew it was out of control. It was getting harder and harder for Dad to get around, and if anything had happened to me . . .” She rolled her sleeve back down. “I just stopped one day.”
Skylar ran her hand down Bear’s back, and they were quiet for a few moments.
Grace wondered when she’d started to feel like her life was out of control. “I hope my dad can talk my mom out of making me go to that appointment with the shrink on Tuesday.” She reached over and rubbed Bear’s head.
Skylar leaned back against the pillow on her bed. “If I could have, I think I would have talked to someone. Maybe I would have been able to quit sooner. But . . .” Skylar sighed. “We didn’t have the money for something like that and—” She frowned, locking eyes with Grace. “I’m