Last Year's Mistake - Gina Ciocca Page 0,30
felt that way from the ringing in my ears. Mr. Kerrigan’s arms wrapped around me, nothing but skin and bone, and he rubbed my back as he tried to soothe me. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m all right. I promise you, I’m fine.”
“I’m—s-sorry,” I hiccupped against his shoulder, my face burning with embarrassment and soaked with tears. “David t-told me, b-but—”
Mr. Kerrigan held my shoulders and winked at me. “You think this is bad? You should see the other guy.”
I managed a weak smile at his joke, and I became vaguely aware of my parents’ hands patting me as Mr. Kerrigan pulled me into another hug. I looked up long enough to see David leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, his jaw muscles tense as he stared off into the hallway. He rubbed my sister’s shoulder absently, because she’d started to cry too.
That’s how it worked with us Crawford women. One of us cried, and that was the end of it. I didn’t have to look at my mother to know she was dabbing her eyes too.
Mr. Kerrigan took my face in his hands and spoke quietly. “Would you like to run into the bathroom and take a minute?”
I nodded, and he smiled. I wished he’d let me go right then and there, but he said, “We missed you, Kelsey.”
My face contorted all over again and fresh tears spilled over my cheeks. He hadn’t said he’d missed me. He’d said we.
“Take your time,” he said as he guided me toward the bathroom that doubled as a laundry room. Miranda and David stepped aside, and I avoided looking at either of them. “We’ll start all over when you come back. You remember where it is, don’t you?”
I nodded and slunk off, my heart beating madly. The moment I shut the door behind me, I slid down to the dark green tile and sobbed into my knees until I thought I might be sick.
I’d failed David, failed his father. I’d left them both without a single glance back, and I hated myself for it.
A knock on the door made me jump, and I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over nearby paint cans. It was the first time I noticed the old wallpaper had been stripped away and blue painting tape lined the seam where the wall met the ceiling. David and his father must’ve been trying to spruce up the house, but the only thing I could focus on was the sound of David’s voice outside the room.
“Kelse? You okay?”
I hurriedly wiped my face and nose with a tissue before cracking the door open. I meant to say yes, to say or do something other than stare mournfully. The look in David’s eyes mirrored mine. As if by mutual agreement, I opened the door wider as he stepped inside, shutting it behind him with one arm and pulling me into a crushing hug with the other.
Neither of us said a word for the longest time. I held him as tightly as I could while I buried my face in his shirt, and he held me just as tight with his cheek against my hair. All the defenses I’d put up puddled at my feet.
“David,” I finally blubbered. “I’m sorry. For ruining dinner. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He smoothed my hair away from my face. “I’m sorry too. For upsetting you at Vi’s party.”
I shook my head, accepting and dismissing his apology, wanting to forget everything about that night.
David took my hand and led me past the washer and dryer to the sink, where he grabbed a tissue and held it out to me. He studied my Tiffany bracelet as I wiped my face, his fingers drumming against the laminate countertop, and I had a feeling he was still thinking about the words we’d exchanged on Violet’s deck.
“So what did you mean when you said you didn’t smash up your car?”
Yep.
I balled the Kleenex into my palm and squeezed it. “I did crash my car. Just not the way everyone thinks.” I hurled the snot rag into the trash, blowing out an exasperated breath. “Look, I know you think I’m some big sellout, and yes, I’m different, but you were the one who told me I should try new things, remember? And after what happened . . . I agreed. So I did.” He folded his arms across his chest and I did the same. “Some of them I liked. Some I didn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t drunk that