Read Online VIP (Rock & Release, Act I) by Riley Edgewood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Riley Edgewood
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can do is crawl into a ball, tucking my chin into my knees and wrapping my arms around my knees as tightly as I can. I stare at the door my dad slammed for what seems like hours.
Did he really kick me out?
It takes everything I have not to chase after my parents, begging for forgiveness, telling them I'll do whatever they ask. I can't though. Something just cracked right down the middle between us, and there's nothing that can undo what happened. I'm not taking the internship. And I'm not sorry for speaking Jason's name. Still, I loathe myself for the way I hurt them, especially my mom. I wish I'd broken down with a little more tact. Stupid hangover.
I don't want to cause trouble for my dad at work. God, the very thought nearly takes my breath away. That's not me. I'm not that daughter, the selfish one. I never even rebelled as a teenager. Not that I ever needed to. My parents were always so laid-back. Beer? Sure, go ahead (just no driving). Extended curfew? No problem (as long as there's no drinking and driving—or drugs—involved). Hell, my dad's the one who introduced me to whiskey. I drank a little with him every weekend for months before I actually grew to enjoy the taste.
Then Jason died and everything changed and here I am, forced into a rebellion against them while I'm already an adult. Well. Adult-ish, anyway.
Is this what this is? A rebellion?
No. I shake my head, though there's nobody around to see me. This isn't a rebellion. This is me doing something for myself. As someone old enough to make her own decisions.
Which, I guess, is what I've done. Decided.
An odd sense of calmness flows over my shoulders and lightens the heavy air in my lungs. Even knowing my decision means I'm no longer welcome in my parents' house doesn't take the sense of peace away.
Some, yes, but not all.
Guess I should pack my things.
Guess I should figure out where the hell to go.
I have an apartment down at school in North Carolina…but I really want to take this job at BackBar, so staying somewhat local is pretty key.
Teagan's grandparents' place? Yeah, right. They'd never go for it… But maybe Teag will let me sneak in until I figure something else out. She hasn't texted me back since this morning, but that doesn't bother me. This is too huge—our own fight will be long forgotten by the time I tell her about the one I'm in with my dad.
I glance around my room expecting a sense of preemptive nostalgia to hit, but it doesn't. There's nothing left in this house to make me feel much of anything. My mom got rid of the most important parts when she erased all signs of Jason. A house with no trace of him will never feel like home to me. Even my leased apartment at school, where I've only lived a year so far, brings more comfort because I have pictures up of Jason all over the place.
I'd rather see him every day and have to remember what happened than pretend he never existed at all.
The suitcase I traveled up from school with is tucked away on the top shelf in my closet. I drag it down and start to fill it with everything I might need to survive the next few weeks. I don't want to have to come back here for anything for at least that long. I don't want to have to face my dad again.
Maybe ever.
Okay, not that long. But I definitely need some space from him, and it's pretty clear he needs some from me, too.
His car is gone when I'm ready to leave, and my mom is nowhere to be found. It's probably best this way anyway. I leave a note, telling them that my decision's been made and that I hope they're able to understand, someday, that I didn't mean to hurt them with it. I write that I'm sorry for what I said, knowing they'll grasp that I mean the dead kid card comment, without having to spell it out. I could kick myself for it. I'm not sure I've ever said anything so awful in my life. I write that I love them and leave it at that because I don't think there's anything else to say.
I hate the thought that
Did he really kick me out?
It takes everything I have not to chase after my parents, begging for forgiveness, telling them I'll do whatever they ask. I can't though. Something just cracked right down the middle between us, and there's nothing that can undo what happened. I'm not taking the internship. And I'm not sorry for speaking Jason's name. Still, I loathe myself for the way I hurt them, especially my mom. I wish I'd broken down with a little more tact. Stupid hangover.
I don't want to cause trouble for my dad at work. God, the very thought nearly takes my breath away. That's not me. I'm not that daughter, the selfish one. I never even rebelled as a teenager. Not that I ever needed to. My parents were always so laid-back. Beer? Sure, go ahead (just no driving). Extended curfew? No problem (as long as there's no drinking and driving—or drugs—involved). Hell, my dad's the one who introduced me to whiskey. I drank a little with him every weekend for months before I actually grew to enjoy the taste.
Then Jason died and everything changed and here I am, forced into a rebellion against them while I'm already an adult. Well. Adult-ish, anyway.
Is this what this is? A rebellion?
No. I shake my head, though there's nobody around to see me. This isn't a rebellion. This is me doing something for myself. As someone old enough to make her own decisions.
Which, I guess, is what I've done. Decided.
An odd sense of calmness flows over my shoulders and lightens the heavy air in my lungs. Even knowing my decision means I'm no longer welcome in my parents' house doesn't take the sense of peace away.
Some, yes, but not all.
Guess I should pack my things.
Guess I should figure out where the hell to go.
I have an apartment down at school in North Carolina…but I really want to take this job at BackBar, so staying somewhat local is pretty key.
Teagan's grandparents' place? Yeah, right. They'd never go for it… But maybe Teag will let me sneak in until I figure something else out. She hasn't texted me back since this morning, but that doesn't bother me. This is too huge—our own fight will be long forgotten by the time I tell her about the one I'm in with my dad.
I glance around my room expecting a sense of preemptive nostalgia to hit, but it doesn't. There's nothing left in this house to make me feel much of anything. My mom got rid of the most important parts when she erased all signs of Jason. A house with no trace of him will never feel like home to me. Even my leased apartment at school, where I've only lived a year so far, brings more comfort because I have pictures up of Jason all over the place.
I'd rather see him every day and have to remember what happened than pretend he never existed at all.
The suitcase I traveled up from school with is tucked away on the top shelf in my closet. I drag it down and start to fill it with everything I might need to survive the next few weeks. I don't want to have to come back here for anything for at least that long. I don't want to have to face my dad again.
Maybe ever.
Okay, not that long. But I definitely need some space from him, and it's pretty clear he needs some from me, too.
His car is gone when I'm ready to leave, and my mom is nowhere to be found. It's probably best this way anyway. I leave a note, telling them that my decision's been made and that I hope they're able to understand, someday, that I didn't mean to hurt them with it. I write that I'm sorry for what I said, knowing they'll grasp that I mean the dead kid card comment, without having to spell it out. I could kick myself for it. I'm not sure I've ever said anything so awful in my life. I write that I love them and leave it at that because I don't think there's anything else to say.
I hate the thought that
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