how to wire buildings. He showed up to my football games, acted like a stand-up guy. To his friends and co-workers, Dan Blackburn was the salt of the earth, never missing a day of work, never complaining. Maybe he liked to drink, but really, who didn’t, right?
Well, the guy who had a few too many beers at the bar came home and realized his life was shit, his wife was dead, and his son would amount to nothing. Then he’d take his suppressed rage, self-hatred, and misery out on me. I took it, like I deserved it, until one day I hit back, having enough. From then on, I didn’t exist for him unless it was to tell me what a disappointment I was.
I spent more and more time at the Maxwell’s house where they actually liked and cared for each other. It didn’t matter if they drove each other nuts at the end of the day. They had parents who gave a shit, had food, a safe, warm home, and love. They had it so good, and they took it for granted. I resented and needed that family with the same force. The only thing that got me through besides the Maxwell home was the idea that the moment I graduated I was gone. Never to look back.
Four years after I left, my dad got hurt and went on disability, but the checks didn’t cover his growing drinking problem, the medicines, and the bills.
The old man still knew how to get to me, bringing up Mom. I deposited monthly into his account to pay for his medication and house bills, which he probably spent on booze. But when my life fell a part, the money stopped. Falling into debt, he chose alcohol over his medication.
And he died.
I proved him right. My failure and guilt for his death grew over me like moss.
“Will you go visit his grave when you’re home?” Kinsley pulled back my focus. Sympathy was etched on her face. The Maxwells saw me enough with black eyes and broken ribs I’d blame on football, but they all knew. It was unspoken, but when Kay Maxwell would give me extra meatloaf and dessert, I knew it was her way of hugging me, telling me she was there.
“No.” I wagged my head.
She nodded. “If you change your mind, I will go with you.”
A reflex of anger lashed out, furrowing my eyebrows, my voice sharp and cold. “I don’t want or need your help or pity.”
“Good.” She held her ground against me, her voice challenging me. “I wasn’t giving you either.”
I stared at her.
“My friendship comes without pity, though support and compassion are always on offer.”
Fuck. I was more than a massive a-hole. Blowing out, I tapped my fist against the metal chair, my shoulders relaxing. This girl was utterly amazing. And in a blink, she knew how to whip my ass and put me in my place.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome.” She went back to eating her third beignet. “Is it possible to live off these? Bathe in them?”
A smile twitched my mouth, Kinsley flipping my bad mood like a switch.
“Live? No.” I sat up, grabbing one off my pile. “But you naked in a bathtub with just these around you? Hell, yes.”
“Wonder how many we can take away?” Her eyes lit up with mischief.
“Fuck, girl, I really like how you think.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the French Quarter, playing tourist, investigating the tiny voodoo and art shops, getting silly souvenirs. She stopped at every band playing on Royal Street, dancing with kids and old men, drawing in more people and bewitching everyone around. Me most of all. She was carefree and relaxed, her dry humor shined even brighter.
We took goofy pictures, ate, drank, and enjoyed the afternoon, my hands never leaving her body for long. I had never laughed so much; my cheeks ached. It felt so good letting myself forget about the world outside of us. The day with her was the best I ever had.
But I should have known good things come with a price.
We walked through our hotel entrance, Kinsley’s hand in mine, the sun setting on the horizon. I was already mentally ripping her insignificant shorts from her body before we even got to our room, needing to be inside her like air. “Fuck, I can’t wait to have you on my tongue,” I muttered in her ear.
“Smith.” A figure rose from a table in the courtyard. Ice poured in my