Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,58

of us. “He’s pathetic, not you. You were drinking and having fun in the photos, they’re nothing. If he’s pissed about the letters then that’s his own shit, not yours.”

My legs stumble underneath me but Ash’s grip never falters, muttering under his breath about how all fathers should just be wiped off of the face of the Earth, and I guess I can get behind that sentiment.

I finally open my eyes back up when we stop, Avery furiously texting in one hand and unlocking her door with the other.

I wonder if Lips will be here?

Ash probably wouldn’t let her come here but I wish she would be. I wish she could just… be here.

The door finally shoves open and Avery stalks in, leaving Ash to move me by himself. “Sit him on the couch! I’ll grab the bed out and then I’ll deal with this.”

Except Lips is here, and she gets to work rolling the spare bed out from under one of the beds, frowning and glancing over to where Ash sets me down on the couch.

I feel both pathetic and relieved she’s here.

Avery collapses on her bed and starts furiously texting.

“Can someone please explain to me what the fuck is going on?” Lips says, hesitant even as she witnesses this new low of mine for the first time.

Oh no.

Nope.

Goodbye whiskey, my stomach starts to heave right as Arbour saves the day by shoving a bucket under my nose. Ash parks his ass next to me, ready to jump in if I pass out in a pile of my own puke, and this right here is the reason why I won’t jump off the roof.

This lot are worth the pain of living, even if I am in the goddamn hole again.

“Didn’t you read it? See the photos?” Ash snaps and if I wasn’t swallowing bile down, I’d call him out for being an ass to her.

“Obviously not. If it’s personal then I’m not fucking looking.”

That’s pretty fucking nice of her.

I puke.

I puke so hard I feel the blood vessels around my eyes burst, and I want to die. Downing two bottles of spirits like that wasn’t fucking clever. It was a shit decision and maybe I do need to grow the fuck up a bit, get over this self-destruct mode I’ve built into my being. Harley grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and presses it into the back of my neck. He’s an asshole most of the time, but he’s still one of my best fucking friends.

Dammit, now I want to fucking cry over this like a pussy.

I need a beer.

“It’s Annabelle right? It has to be; she’s the only one who’s been in our room. Dammit Morrison, I told you not to let her in there! She’s a fucking snake,” Harley says as he starts to pace again.

Ash groans. “Drop it. It’s out now; all we can do is deal with the fallout.”

Then my goddamn, fucking asshole of a phone rings and the entire room stops breathing.

We all know who it is.

I’m fucked.

“Just leave it; you can speak to him tomorrow,” says Ash, in a tone he usually only uses at Avery. A knot forms in my stomach.

“I’ll get it out of the way now. No use putting it off,” I mumble and then I hit answer, the tirade of vitriol starting down the line before I get the phone to my ear.

“—incompetent, selfish cunt! You’re paying someone to take your tests for you, aren’t you? I knew it. I told your mother there’s no way you’d get your GPA up on your own. My God, is it too much to ask for you to think about someone other than yourself for once? How was I cursed with such a fucking useless excuse of a son?”

I should hang up.

I know it, but sometimes I think I’m addicted to this kind of pain… like something in me is so fucking twisted and perverse that the gut-wrenching feeling of my own father telling me how fucking terrible I am soothes me.

I mean, if by soothing I mean tearing my soul up into strips, lighting that shit on fire, and then burning it to the ground.

“Do you have any idea how shameful it is for me to see these photos? I’ll have to deal with the fallout at the next Kora board meeting; I have important stakeholders who respect me, and now they’re going to be too busy fucking gossiping about my delinquent son to focus on what’s happening