When September Ends by Andrea Smith Read Free Book Online

up—who said anyone helped me move out?”
    He gives me a look. “Casey,” he deadpans.
    Of course she did.
    “For the record, no one helped me. I did it all by myself,” I reply, shaking my head.
    “Yeah, well, Casey isn’t the issue here, now is she? I’m not a teenager anymore, September. I don’t do games and drama. I cut to the chase. Are you coming home?”
    “My home is about four blocks from here, and I would appreciate it very much if you’d drop me there, but if you won’t, I can walk,” I reply, starting to open the passenger door.
    “Wait,” Jesse nearly shouts, pulling me towards him, “So, this is it? This thing between us is what? Over?”
    His eyes are flashing deeper blue as my heart begins to fracture. His hand has my wrist in a vice-like grip. So, yeah, it’s up to me to end this with him, say the words that Jesse won’t say because… fuck, for whatever reason he just won’t.
    “Yeah, Jesse. It’s over.”
    “And I have no say?”
    I look at him, and the words finally come to me that I hope will make him understand. “You’ve had your say up until now. You just didn’t know what to do with it.”
    He releases my wrist, and starts the truck. I don’t look at his face again as he drives the four blocks to my apartment.
    “I’ll text you with my cell number,” I say before getting out of the truck. “Please have Scout call me?”
    “Sure,” he replies.
    I close the door of his truck and climb the steps to the porch of the apartment building. I hear him pull away from the curb as the warm, salty tears that I’ve been holding back start rolling down my cheeks.
    Yes, it hurts.
    Again.
    But it’s the last fucking time I will allow tears to fall over this…fling that I’ve ended. It was the right thing to do for everyone concerned.
    I love Jesse.
    Jesse loves me.
    But sometimes that’s just not enough when so many others are in the mix.

Chapter 9

    It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to September; the day she informed me, in no uncertain terms, that it was over.
    What was it though?
    A fling? No.
    An affair? Doubtful—I think at least one of the parties has to be married in order to qualify.
    A mistake? Not in my book.
    Voyage of the Damned? Possibly.
    Her birthday had come and gone. I had sent flowers and a gift card to her from me and Scout. She had called Scout to thank her.
    I had given Scout September’s old phone and had it activated with a new number, so that she could stay in touch with her sister without having me becoming their intermediary. Clearly, September was intent on avoiding me.
    My construction business has been keeping me busy. I’ve got contracts for two commercial buildings and six rehabs that will take me into early next year. Thankfully, between that and still working my daily shift as the crew leader for Wharton Construction, I’m so exhausted at day’s end, the only thing I can manage is getting dinner for Scout and then falling into bed.
    The next day, I do it all over again. It’s my own purgatory; but it beats Hell, I guess. At least I don’t have time to dwell on the hurt and the loneliness left in the wake of September, or continue kicking my own ass for reluctance in validating our relationship to the fucking world.
    I’m sitting at the kitchen table, figuring payroll when Scout comes into the room, freshly showered and ready for bed.
    “September called me just now,” she says, “She’s gonna come by tomorrow and she wanted to make sure we’ll be here,” she says quietly.
    “We’ll be here, baby,” I reply, looking at her solemn face.
    “I’ll text her back and let her know. Dad—why is September mad at you?”
    I stop what I’m doing and take a sip of my coffee. I’m living on caffeine these days instead of beer. It’s more productive. “Honey, she’s not mad at me as much as she’s disappointed in me.”
    “Why?” she persists.
    Fuck.
    What do I tell her?
    How about the truth?
    “Scout, hun, sit down for a