She smiles. “Truth sees that good and the strength in you. She’s so taken with you, and I just don’t want you to spend any more time convincing yourself you’re not all those things. Cyrus did that to me. He pushed me away, and it hurt us both for a long time.
“Maybe someday you’ll show me pictures of your mom, and maybe it’ll spark a memory, but right now, I bet she is so proud to see you continuing to do what she did—break a cycle. And even though Truth is one-third of my heart, I want you to know that I see you through my own eyes clearly, Tobias, and I’m proud of you. I am so extremely proud of you for everything you’ve done to survive, everything I’ve learned you have accomplished based on pure determination and the way that you have tried to protect my daughter.”
It’s been years since anyone told me that they were proud of me, and here sits a woman who I’ve known for only a few days, someone who could have easily put me in a box because of my DNA, and I wouldn’t have blamed her. She could have shunned me because of my circumstance, but she fucking didn’t.
My chest and eyes immediately heat; my throat burns and tightens at her words.
“I truly hope that you’re here for a very long time. I truly hope you and she can make each other as happy as her father and I are.”
I clear my throat and whisper, “Thanks.”
“Have dinner with us tonight?”
“Wouldn’t want to imp—”
“From experience, I’m telling you, the easiest way to deal with this family is to jump in with both feet and enjoy the ride.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Tobias
A week ago, I held her tight, knowing I was letting her go. I had to. No way I could hold back who I was and love on a girl whose fucking name was Truth while drowning in lies. It wasn’t an option, so I did the right thing.
Who would have thought the son of a druggy and an ex-stripper would have a kid who did the right thing?
I laugh to myself at the thought.
But the answer makes my heart smile and ache at the same time. It’s the fact that I know at the core who I am—a survivor, a weary dreamer of a better future. It was instilled in me by a woman whose name was and always will be Hope.
I’m no longer counting the months until I’m out of here, because as much bullshit as I’ve dealt with in my life, I no longer want to run as far away from it so I can start over. My original plan was to go to college on the other side of the country, leaving the East Coast and heading to the West Coast. UCLA was the dream, but my guidance counselor pushed me to apply to more schools, so I did. I was accepted to UCLA, but Columbia offered me a full ride. I knew I had to take that gift from the Universe, or God, or Mom … with wings, so I did so begrudgingly, knowing I’d only be an hour and a half from the place I had dreamed about leaving. Fully equipped with a lifelong ability to not form attachments, I knew I could leave here and never look back. My plan was always to sell the house.
Now I am happy I was too damn busy surviving to clean out the garage and didn’t put it on the market yet. I can still rent out my place, but not for parties anymore, and have that extra cash flow to take Truth on proper dates and shit.
I smile as I brush my teeth at the memory of Mom burning the midnight oil, sometimes literally, because food was more important than the light bill as she worked her ass off at mediocre jobs to get her degree. Her one goal was to finally take me on a vacation of my choice, and my choice was the beach.
We would lay in my bed at night, dreaming out loud about all the beaches we would travel to when she had saved enough money. Then she got a real job, and that, on top of her Reserves requirements, left little time to actually do that. But it gave us a new dream. One week a year, just her and me on a beach, building sandcastles and flying kites, like all the kids did around here.
Frank was the one who had told her about the little place that eventually became our home, and I remember her asking if I would rather go to California to see the ocean or have a house where we could wake up every day, open the door, and have it just a few feet away.
Being a kid, of course I was bummed we weren’t going to fly across the country on a plane and see a different ocean, but the excitement grew at the overheard conversations that she would share with Frank about having a place, roots, for her and her Toby.
Every morning, I ate my cereal on the front porch, looking at the water, sometimes with Mom, sometimes by myself. But every weekend, we built a sandcastle and flew kites, even if it was only for an hour. Those are my favorite memories with her.
She would have loved Truth and her family as much as I do, and although I still need my space, I’m realizing every day that I need it less than I’ve let myself believe.
My first introduction to her family, as a whole, after the big reveal, after the surprise counseling session, was dinner and a “dance party,” which I learned was them all just making homemade pizza to go with the wings that Cyrus brought home while dancing around. Truth held back. I knew this because her father picked on her about it.
I was invited every night, but I forced myself to only accept every other and avoided “Steel Sunday” like the plague.
But every night, no matter if I was there or not, Truth and I talked about everything under the sun until one of us fell asleep. I knew everything about her family, and the fact they didn’t always have money, even though they could have if Momma Joe, her grandmother, hadn’t walked away from her family’s fortune, for love.
She was half asleep when she whispered, ‘I’m so glad I didn’t have to do that.’
The implication of what she’d murmured, blew my mind.
She knew my shit, too. Even my record for assault and battery that was sealed by the courts and covered up by the school, because Frank had shit on the principal whose kid I lost it on. And the possession charge when I was trying to make bank to get out from under Frank’s thumb. She knows that Miles, Harrison, and Kai know about it, too, and have been holding it and threatening to hand it over to Columbia’s administration if I didn’t keep the fight circuit going.
I also told her about something they suspect I have, something of an urban legend amongst the elite, something coveted by them all. She guessed control over The Sound app, and although I do hold the figurative power button, so to speak, that’s not it in its entirety. She busted my ass about not killing the stories of her and her cousin, and I flat-out told her that it was a dick move, but if I couldn’t have her, I was going to make sure no one else did. But that wasn’t all the “Four Horsemen,” as she calls us, are whispered to have control over, and I told her that, when the time came, I would tell her what it was that I have, but not until I figure out what I’m going to do with it. She was chill about it, which made me realize she really did fucking trust me.
What I hold supersedes The Sound. What I have is documentation over hundreds of years that could break any student, their families, or the faculty of Seashore. I have access to all their secrets.
My plan is, and was, to destroy it after graduation, but Harrison, who truly believes it will be his—spoiler alert: it never will be—has used it against me that I am responsible to those who work the circuit so damn much lately that now I’m not sure I’ll destroy it at all. Add to that, Truth and her crew may need it, and this kind of seals the deal, that I just need to find the right hands to place that kind of information in.