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Gabi - Eleven Years Earlier
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COLE DEVONPORT WAS walking down the school corridor, directly toward me. I ducked my head, holding my books closer to my chest, and kept going, hoping he’d somehow not notice me.
But as he got closer, I realized he was the one trying not to catch my eye, and despite the way he walked, with his head down and his blond hair hanging over his face, it was impossible not to notice his black eye and split lip.
Before I’d had the chance to think through what I was doing, I’d reached out and caught him by his forearm, pulling him to a stop.
“Hey, Cole. What happened?”
“Gabi,” he said, his gaze flicking to me. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine. What happened to you?”
He gave his head a slight shake and glanced away again, his cheeks heating. “I got into a fight with my foster brother. It was stupid.”
“Your foster brother? Does he come to Willowbrook High?”
“Nah, he goes to Blackdown,” he said, mentioning another high school across town. “He’d already been going there for a few years before he moved in with our foster family, so they figured there was no point in moving him.”
“And he did this to you?”
“Would you believe me if I told you he came off worse?”
I could hear a teasing tone to his voice, but I felt like he was using it to cover how he really felt. I couldn’t imagine having to live in a house that didn’t even belong to one of my parents, and then getting in a fight with someone I lived with—a fight so bad it left me with injuries every kid at school would surely notice and be gossiping about.
“Did he?” I asked.
Cole pushed his hair back from his face and grinned. “Nah, not really, but only because I knew I’d end up in more shit than he would. He’s younger and smaller than me, so handing him his ass wouldn’t exactly go down well with the couple who’ve taken me in.”
My eyes widened. “So you let him hit you instead?”
“I don’t know if let him is exactly the right way of putting it, but he definitely got in a couple of swings before I managed to pin him down.”
“And why did he want to hit you in the first place?”
“He took some stuff of mine, so I figured it was only fair I took some of his things in return.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly happy about it.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess not.”
As we spoke, he gradually lost the slightly defeated atmosphere he’d had as he’d walked down the hall, the cocky attitude returning. Before I knew what was happening, he’d slung his arm around my shoulder and I discovered we were walking side by side down the corridor, him propelling me along.
Other students cast us curious glances as we walked, people stopping chatting at their lockers to raise eyebrows at us. I’d always been someone who was quite happy to be invisible at high school, but all of a sudden I felt a little spark of excitement, of confidence, at walking through school with Cole Devonport’s arm around me. It didn’t mean anything. If anyone else had stopped him, they’d be the one walking with him now, but for the moment I allowed myself to soak in the ounce of stupid pride I felt at Cole paying me attention.
I checked myself.
No, I wasn’t like that. I didn’t need the attention of a boy to make me feel better about myself.
I ducked and slipped out from under his arm. “Actually, Cole, I was kind of headed in the other direction. I have an English Lit class.”
“No problem. Meet me for lunch.”
“Sorry?”
“Lunch. You know, that meal between breakfast and dinner. I’ll meet you on the benches outside the gym.”
“But I’m supposed to—” I started. Only Cole had already turned and walked away. He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Later!”
My face burned, but a smile tugged at my cheeks. I was supposed to be meeting Taylor and Jasmine for lunch. Was I really considering ditching my friends to eat lunch with a guy? I wasn’t the type of girl to do that, and anyway, I didn’t know how Taylor would react if she found out I ditched her to go and eat lunch with the guy she was crushing on. I’d seen how much she’d loved being around Cole, and she’d been pissed at him for not calling her already. I wasn’t so surprised. Sure, he’d been flirting with her, but guys like him flirted with anyone with a vagina.
No, I decided. I won’t go. It wasn’t as though I’d even be standing him up, as I hadn’t agreed to lunch in the first place. He’d just told me to turn up and expected me to do so.
The idea made me bristle—I didn’t like being told what to do by presumptuous jerks. It would serve him right to be sitting by himself for a few minutes before he clocked onto the fact I wasn’t going to show.
I tried to ignore the dip of disappointment in my stomach at my decision.
The last thing I needed was to get involved with someone like Cole. Besides, he probably only wanted to use me to get more juicy bits of gossip about Taylor or something similar.
Guys like Cole were nothing but trouble.
***
I GOT HOME AFTER SCHOOL, fully expecting the house to be empty. My dad was working the late shift that week, which made me a latch-key kid. Not that I minded. I was seventeen, and perfectly capable of making my own dinner, and putting myself to bed. Besides, it was sometimes easier when he wasn’t around. At least then I didn’t need to worry about saying the wrong thing or upsetting him in some way. It wasn’t that he was mean or violent—nothing like that—but he had a way of flying off the handle about things I hadn’t even thought were a big deal. I knew what the problem was—I saw all the crushed cans and empty bottles in the trash—but there was no way I’d dare say anything to him. He was the parent and I was the kid. He was the one supposed to be telling me off for behaving badly, especially considering his job. But I knew things had been getting worse recently, and I just wasn’t sure how to approach it. I guessed I’d been hoping things would get better by themselves somehow, that he’d magically grow out of it, but the problem had been going on for years now, and recently his drinking had escalated. I didn’t know if it was because he’d been under more pressure at work, or if it was the idea of me leaving to go to college in the not so distant future, and him being left on his own, but gradually more cans and bottles had started to appear.
I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the front door.
Immediately, something felt different.
I paused and frowned, realizing I could hear something where normally the house would be in silence. It took me a moment to place the sound, but when I did I hurried into the living room to find my dad asleep on the couch, his hands folded across his chest, snoring.
I glanced at the floor. A couple of empty beer cans were sitting on the carpet. Dammit.
Crossing the room to the couch, I took hold of his shoulder and gave him a quick shake. “Dad?”
He didn’t wake. The snoring stopped momentarily, but then started again.
“Dad!” I said, louder, giving him another shake that felt harder than I’d have liked.
This time, he startled awake. “Huh, what?” He blinked at me and then rubbed his face. “Jesus, Gabi. What are you shouting at me for?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
His eyes widened and he sat up straight. “Ah, hell. What time is it?”
“Four-thirty. Don’t you start at three?”
“Damn. I fell asleep. I’ve got to go.”
I glanced back down at the beer cans. “Go? You’re still going to work?”
“Of course I am, Gabi,” he said, exasperated as though it was somehow my fault he’d fallen asleep. “Where else am I going to go?”
“But ...” I hesitated. “Haven’t you been drinking?”
I looked pointedly at the empty cans, lifting my eyebrows and widening my eyes, hoping to get my point across without needing to say much more.
He shook his head. “I had a couple of beers with lunch hours ago. I don’t need you telling me I’ve been drinking. It’s not like I work regular hours like most people. If I don’t get a bit of down time, this job will run me into the ground.”
I held up both hands in defense. “Okay, okay. I was only asking.”
I held my tongue as he got up and went upstairs to change into his uniform. I was worried about him driving, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to say anything—he’d only make excuses and defend his choices. Perhaps what he was saying was right and he had only drunk a couple of beers hours ago? I doubted it, and I thought if I looked hard enough I’d find an empty bottle of vodka hidden somewhere in the house, but I didn’t intend on searching. He was the responsible adult, and I was the kid. Nothing I said would make any difference.
Wanting to help, I brewed a pot of coffee while he was getting changed and then put it in a thermos mug for him to take with him.
He reappeared within ten minutes.
I handed him the coffee, and gave him a smile, wanting to build bridges. I didn’t want him to go to work still angry with me. He smiled back and leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, a waft of mint overlaying the stale alcohol flowing over me.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said.
“No problem, Dad. Stay safe, okay?”
He threw me a wink as he turned away. “Always.”