Most of it is painful and bruising and bad, but it’s attention. And sometimes…sometimes he’s sweet.
But even still…he might not come. He might be with another girl right now. Might be with his friends. He’s probably got something to do on Wednesday nights, unlike me.
Then again…he’s the reason my fridge is stocked. Do all boys buy the girls they’re fucking groceries? Shane did, until he…disappeared.
I lean against the front door, tighten my grip around the keys to the car in my hand. I don’t say a word as I stare at my mom.
She looks far older than her thirty-five. The pinched look of her face, her baggy pajama pants, big, white t-shirt.
She runs the back of her hand over her nose and snivels. “Where did that food come from?”
I know she’s been eating it.
I’ve been walking as far as I can to get a job anywhere within a five-mile radius of this place. I’ve applied at a gas station. A mom-and-pop cheeseburger joint. I even went into a rundown tavern with a door that barely stays on its hinges.
The owner offered me a job as he stared at my tits.
I’m still considering taking it.
When I come back from all of that, some of the food is always gone, a mess on the floor that I sweep up.
But my stomach doesn’t growl anymore. She’s not screaming at me for it anymore.
“What’s it matter?”
My mom’s green eyes, so like mine, narrow. Her jaw clenches. “Is it a boy?”
I roll my eyes, knocking my head against the door at my back as I stare up at the low ceiling. I don’t answer her.
“Ella, when I ask you a question, you need to—”
“Answer me,” I finish for her, dipping my chin to glare at her. “I know.” Her words remind me of Maverick. Except when he says it, it gives me a little thrill to know I’m pissing him off. Pushing his buttons. When my mom says it…I just want to slap her.
“Why are you such a little bitch?” she snaps at me, flinging her arms wide.
Here we go.
“You’re fucking ungrateful, lazy.” She jerks her head to the kitchen. “You’re probably sucking that boy’s dick for food, Ella. What is wrong with you?”
I don’t say a word. I just let the keys in my hand dig a little more against my palm.
Her lips press into a thin line. Her chest is heaving. “That fucking farm not teaching you any manners, I see.” She smiles, lines under her eyes creasing.
My chest tightens.
“I don’t think you need to go there anymore, Ella.” She stands to her feet. “Give me my keys.” She holds her hand out, a smug look on her face.
I think of Connor. Maybe he’ll give me a ride next week. But I don’t give her the keys. I like The Ark, just like I like Maverick’s house, because it’s not here.
“Ella! Give me my goddamn keys right now, you little bitch!” She shrieks, stepping closer to me, the floor creaking under her. She’s my height, but skinnier than me, and I think about what it would feel like to drag her by her hair and slam her head through the big box TV on the coffee table beside me.
She takes another step, her hand still flung out, her eyes livid.
“Who is it?” she snarls, switching tactics. “Did you meet this boy at the barnyard? Who is he? I’m going to tell him what a little whore you are. He’s never going to want to see you again.” She flings her hand toward the kitchen. “He’s gonna stop paying you in food, and what’re you going to do then? What’re you gonna do when I kick you out on your ass?”
She steps closer. I can hear her labored breaths. Feel her anger. I push further against the door at my back, gripping the keys so hard my hand hurts.
A light flashes through the window and the sheer curtain adjacent the front door, but I ignore it and Mom does, too.
Maybe he is paying me in food, but who fucking cares? We need it, you stupid bitch. But I don’t say anything.
She’s in my face now, her hands fisted at her sides, veins throbbing in her neck. “You bitch! You live in my house, you use my car, and you can’t answer me when I ask you a fucking question!”
I think I hear something outside. Gravel crunching. But I can’t look away from the hate in my mother’s eyes. It’s the only thing I’ve ever seen when she looks at me.
My breath catches, my blood boiling. I still don’t speak.
I can smell her putrid breath, see her yellowed teeth as she keeps screaming at me. “Give me my keys! You’re the reason no one ever sticks around, did you know that? You’re such a fucking weirdo, and then Shane.” She grabs her hair, screaming. “Then you had to ruin shit with Shane, offering your teenage ass like the fucking slut you are!” She shrieks, lifts her hand to slap me.
I don’t move.
I hear something behind me.
Her hand connects with my face and my head spins, hot pain mixing with the anger in my blood.
“You stupid bitch!” She grabs me by the hair, dragging me into the middle of the living room floor.
I feel the cold air drifting in before I hear it.
The door opening.
She’s still screaming, and I’m fisting the keys in my hand, lifting my hand up to cover my face when she suddenly stops, the insults dying in her throat.
Her grip in my hair loosens.
I stand up straighter, turning toward the door, expecting to see her boyfriend of the night.
I can still hear her breathing, feel her fingers still fisted in my hair, but when my eyes connect with Maverick’s baby blue ones, I don’t give a shit.
I lower my hand from my face.
His jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed as his gaze shifts to my mother, who is silent beside me.
In this trailer, Maverick is like a giant. His head nearly touches the ceiling, and he towers over both of us.
I see his hands by his sides. They’re loose, not curled into fists, but I see the tension in his neck, just above his skeleton bandana.
My mom is panting, and I don’t know if she’s horny or pissed or both.
In this moment, my mom and I might have one thing in common.
I hold my hand to my still-burning face, and Maverick’s gaze catches the movement, but he doesn’t look at me for long.
“Let go of her.”
My mother’s fingers tighten for one second, and then she drops her hand. Maverick takes a step toward her.
She takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself, nearly trembling under his cold gaze.
“I could hear you,” he says softly. “I could hear you screaming from outside.”
My mom swallows, opens her mouth to speak, her lip trembling. She stutters something but can’t get the words out.
“I heard what you called her.” He keeps stepping closer, and soon, the back of her knees hit the couch and she’s got nowhere to go.
I watch them, silent, the keys still in my hand.
“Is that how you always speak to your daughter?” He cocks his head, his hands still loose by his side.
My mom shakes her head, forces a fake smile on her face. “N-no, we were just arguing. We were just… Who are you?” she asks, feigned politeness in her words. Her eyes flick to me. “Are you Ella’s…boyfriend?”
I suck in a breath.
I don’t want him to answer that question again. Now is not the time.