Burnout - Coralee June Page 0,14
when my parents insisted on paying for everything. The owner is nice, and they’d work around your school schedule.”
“I told you. I’m not sure I want to go to school. I can still get my GED and be done with this. Faster I graduate, the faster I can work full time.”
“That’s a piss poor plan. Why not have both?” Decker asked. “I’ve seen your grades. With a little effort, you could easily get a scholarship. Or are you too lazy to work for it?” His voice was like a sneer, dripping with attitude. So we were back to thinking I was the mooch, yeah?
I shoved my plate away, no longer hungry. He was pissing me off. Lazy? I was the girl that cared for her dying mother and kept a 4.0 GPA. I was the girl that worked a night shift at the plant so we could afford her hospital bills and keep the trailer. I was the girl that gave up a social life while her mother lived it up. I avoided relationships because I had already been in an abusive one that broke me down.
I could feel all my doubts spilling from my lips like venom. Scholarships were for other kids. Kids that didn’t smile when their mamas died. Kids that didn’t feel obligated to save their parents and relieved when they failed. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if Lance decides he’s done playing the doting brother and wants nothing to do with me? I need to protect myself,” I said through gritted teeth, maintaining eye contact with Decker as I spoke. It felt invigorating and intimidating to spit out the fears that had been swirling around my head for the last few weeks.
Decker placed his hand on my knee, drawing my attention back to him. “I’ve known Lance my whole life. I might be wary of having you here, but he won’t abandon you once the newness wears off. He’s fiercely loyal and well-meaning. Protect yourself by accepting help.”
“Why do you want me to accept help?” I asked. “Last we talked, you were threatening to kick me out.”
“I think you could be good for Lance,” Decker replied cryptically.
I swallowed. I hated that I was so distrusting, years of failed promises and let downs were like bricks lined along my back. It was hard to think of anything else with those experiences weighing me down. “I’ll think about it,” I replied. “And I’ll take your offer on the job.”
“Great!” he said before pulling his hand back while snapping his fingers. “Three truths. Go.” He then leaned forward, bracing his fist under his chin like I was the most exciting thing in the room. Like he wanted to study me. His dark eyes were assessing and tempting. I wanted to run my hand through his dark, disheveled hair.
I let out a slow exhale before beginning. “My mama liked carnivals. Would go every weekend if she could. She only actually took me once, though, and it was so I could drive her home. She’d always go with her friends or with whatever dick she was sucking. Never with me,” I answered with a sigh. Decker remained utterly silent, his only confirmation that he’d heard me was a nod to continue. I searched his face for pity, expecting a sympathetic smile or even disgust. But all that greeted me was understanding and the courage to continue.
“I told Lance that she smelled like roses, but it wasn’t the full truth. She liked to smoke cigarettes and would spray herself down with cheap rose water to try and cover the scent of tar.” I hated that smell, it was always on my clothes, my skin, my hair, my soul.
“And the last one?” Decker encouraged while leaning in even closer. I could have brushed our noses together if I wanted—and I wanted to for some fucked up reason.
“My Mama loved makeup,” I choked out. “She had many faces—many masks. Everyone she ever met got to see a new one. I was the only person that saw her stripped bare. I never much liked the stuff, but she’d always tried to cake it on me.”
Decker observed me. His eyes swept over my lips, dipped along the curve of my neck before landing at my cleavage. I sucked in a breath of air, making his hooded eyes travel back up to meet my gaze. Time seemed to slow. It contradicted my racing pulse. It felt like an invisible tether was pulling us together, an