Other Broken Things by C. Desir Read Free Book Online Page B

forward. “Why not? We’ve got history . I don’t care if you’re sober or drunk. I’ll take you as you are.”
    I pull back. I so don’t want to get into our history. “Yeah. I know. I get it. But the truth is, I can’t be with someone like that. Fucking AA. I’m not supposed to be with anyone at all until I’m a year sober. But even though I don’t give a shit about that, I still can’t be with someone who parties. It’s too hard, you know?”
    I hate the itchy feeling on my skin. I hate the uncomfortability of truth. But I owe it to Brent, especially because I refuse to give him anything else. The least I can do is offer him part of an explanation.
    â€œI could’ve loved you,” he whispers, and now I do roll my eyes and push him away.
    â€œDon’t be stupid. Save that shit for someone who’s going to fall for it. Maybe Lizzie. She’s always been sort of into you.”
    He shrugs. “Not my type. I like girls with curly hair and big mouths.”
    He wags his eyebrows and I swat him, then pull the car door open. “Get over it, B. Virgins are people too. And maybe she’s saving herself for you.” I slam the door shut and trudge back to my house, wondering if I should call Joe to apologize.
    Before I figure it out, my phone pings in my purse. I pull it out when I get to my front porch. Text from Joe’s number.
    You should head over to the pancake breakfast after you meet with Kathy on Sunday.
    I add his name to my contacts and text back.
    You going?
    The front door opens and Mom looks at me anxiously. “What are you doing out here?”
    I hold up my phone. “Making plans with one of my AA buddies.”
    She ushers me in and fusses over hanging my coat as I read Joe’s return text.
    It’s not a date, Natalie. But I’ll hook you up to start working the breakfast if you’re interested in fulfilling your community service.
    I smirk and can’t help typing back, I knew we weren’t done with our hooking-up conversation.
    Mom is watching me, but I don’t even care. I stare at my phone and wait for his response. It comes thirty seconds later.
    Brat.

Chapter
Nine
    Brent texts me again on Saturday morning, because he’s either stupid or tenacious. And I’m actually starting to wonder if I’m going to have to have a real conversation with him to clear some stuff up. Which would suck because I’ve worked too damn hard to forget about that mess.
    I’m almost never up until afternoon on the weekends, but since I’ve been sober, I can’t seem to sleep in anymore. So I get up, send Brent a leave me the fuck alone text, then shower and smoke two cigarettes out my window before going downstairs to see what Mom’s doing.
    Dad is at the gym, sparring. I used to go with him. It was our bonding thing. It’s how I got into boxing in the first place. At first he was impressed and thought it was cute to have an eleven-year-old who was such a good fighter. But then I got really good and it became a problem. Because young ladies from rich families don’t box. That’s for hood rats. I haven’t touched my gloves since before I got my DUI, before I started drinking every day. It was a stupid idea in the first place. Not something I could ever really have.
    When I got out of rehab my parents tried to do this family-meal-togetherness thing because they thought I’d fallen in with the wrong element due to lack of family bonding. But that lasted two days before Dad said he had too much work and I was fine anyway, just needed to realize my potential and stop spending time with wastes of space. Wonder what he would think of Joe and the KILL knuckles.
    Mom blinks in surprise when she sees me now, her eyes red and her face splotchy.
    â€œYou’ve been crying?” I ask.
    She takes a napkin and dabs off her face. “I’m fine. Just listening to some of those