Not My Hero - Michelle Heard Page 0,59

the day you were born.”

The call cuts, leaving me with nothing but emptiness on the other side of the line. Slowly my hand drops from my ear to hang limply next to my side.

“Brie?” Colton comes closer, and my eyes lock on him. “Who was that?”

What will Colton think if he knows the first thing I felt was relief? Will he hate me?

“My…” Sounding hoarse, I clear my throat before I try again, “My Grandfather.”

Colton’s features instantly tighten. “What did he want?”

“Wait,” Cassie says, and she comes to take hold of my arm. “Sit, Brie. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

I plop down in the chair, and my gaze drifts to the floor. “My mother died.”

“Oh!” Cassie takes a seat at the table and reaching for me, she gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry for your loss, sweetie.”

Loss.

Is it a loss, though?

I shut my eyes against the thoughts because they feel wrong. So very wrong.

“She fell down the stairs,” I automatically continue. “The funeral is on Monday. He said it will be held at the Methodist Church.”

Colton crouches down next to me, placing his hand over mine. “Are you okay?” He pauses for a moment, then hurries to say, “Stupid question. Sorry.”

I begin to shake my head, but then my body stills again as I mutter, “How am I supposed to feel?” My eyes lift to Colton’s. “I don’t know… how…” I shake my head again.

“It’s okay to not feel anything right now, Brie,” Cassie says, her voice filled with empathy.

My chin begins to tremble from the guilt, and it’s hard to whisper the words, “I feel…” Lifting a trembling hand, I cover my mouth as the shock hits.

My mother’s dead.

I didn’t even say goodbye when I left.

My mind begins to race, bringing up her face as I try to recall anything good. Instead, my memory is filled with animosity.

‘Who breaks an arm from a couple of kicks? You’re an embarrassment.’

‘It’s just wood and hair.’

‘Damned disgrace! That’s all you are.’

‘I should’ve drowned you at birth.’

Colton stands up and pulling me to my feet, his arms tightly envelop me.

My body jerks and I quickly wrap my arms around him as I gasp, “I can’t remember anything good.” I pull back a little and feel horrible as I admit, “I… I feel… relieved.” Saying the words out loud makes me feel like a monster. “I’m an awful person, right?”

Bringing his hands up, Colton frames my face. “You’re not, Brie.” His eyes capture mine, and I cling to the look of understanding, softening his gaze. “I’d feel relieved as well.”

“I think you should both stay home,” Cassie says as she gets up. “I’ll let the school know.”

Colton holds me while Cassie makes the call. When she’s done, she turns her gaze to us. “Why don’t you both change out of your uniforms.” Her eyes go to the untouched bowls of oatmeal. “I’ll clear the table.”

Colton keeps an arm around me as we leave the kitchen. After walking into my room, Colton rubs his hand gently up and down my back. “Change into something comfortable. Okay?”

I nod, and when he leaves the room, shutting the door, I can only manage to stare blankly in front of me.

I’m more upset about the relief I feel than the fact that my mother is dead.

All she did was break me down. She buried me in abhorrence and cruelty. Not once did she care how I felt.

‘I’ll drown you.’

‘I’ll throw you off Devil’s Bluff.’

How am I supposed to mourn the person who made my life a living hell?

COLTON

I change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and rush out of my room.

Knocking on Brie’s door, I wait a moment before I slowly push the door open. She’s still standing right where I left her, just staring at nothing.

Walking to her dresser, I open the drawers until I find her sweatpants and pull them out. I also grab a shirt and place the items on the bed before taking hold of Brie’s arm. “Come on. Change into these. I’ll wait right outside your door.”

Her actions are lethargic as she nods while shrugging out of her jacket.

I go to stand outside Brie’s room, feeling worried about her. I wish I could just wrap her up in my heart and stop anything from ever hurting her again.

This sucks.

Mom comes up the stairs, and when she reaches me, she whispers, “How are you holding up?”

I shrug. “I’m just worried about Brie. I wish I could make it all better.”

“I know.”