Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Twelve

CARSON

When I walked in the back door, Mom was actually sitting at the breakfast nook, drinking a glass of wine. She usually preferred to work the late evening shift to avoid Dad at his grumpiest, which meant we hardly saw each other.

She looked up at me and a smile spread on her lips. “Carson, come sit with me. I miss you.”

Sure, I wanted to say. That was why she made sure she was never around the house when I was. But deep down, I knew it was less about me and more about my father. The Cook Family Curse was just as alive and well in California as it had been in Texas. This move hadn’t been “better” for any of us. Sure, Mom and Dad had managed to stay married, but that was about all they’d accomplished.

I grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet—most of our glassware had been shattered—and filled it with water from the tap. As I sat across from Mom, it felt like there was a heavy weight on my chest. I didn’t want to be mad at her for Dad’s transgressions, but she didn’t have to stay. She was the one with a job—with a degree—that had allowed us to move out here in the first place. One word and she could have him out of all of our lives, but she’d chosen him over her children, over and over again.

“I have news,” she said, knotting her hands on the table. They were practically shaking.

“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling unsettled. Even her eyes had a spark of something I couldn’t put my finger on.

Nodding, she took a deep breath and said, “I got a new job as a traveling pharmacist.”

My jaw went slack. “What?”

“I’ll be going to pharmacies all over the country—wherever they need me—and they’ll put me up in hotels and give me per diem for food, on top of my regular salary.”

Feeling lighter than I had all day, I grinned. “Mom, that’s amazing!” She was finally going to get away from Dad, and I would be out of the house, and maybe we could all start moving on from the hell of the last eighteen years.

“When do you start?” I asked.

Her smile faltered. “Next week.”

It felt like all the water in my cup had been doused over my head. She was leaving next week?

“I have an assignment in Phoenix,” she rushed out. “And your grandma and gramps said you could stay with them until the summer’s over.” She reached across the table and took my hands. “Let’s get out of here.”

My heart rate sped, and I wildly looked around. It was one thing to dream about this happening, but to have it sprung on you out of the blue? “Does Dad know about this?” I whispered. Her face paled, and understanding crossed my mind. “You weren’t going to tell him before you left.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but glass shattered on the wall above her head, exploding into a thousand dark brown shards as amber liquid fizzed and slipped down the wall.

My head snapped in the direction the bottle came from, and my eyes locked on Dad’s, his nostrils flared wide and his eyes wild. A string of expletives flew from his mouth as he advanced on us.

Mom scrambled back from the table, terrified, and just the fact that she was scared sent a bout of rage through me so strong, I rose to my feet, shoving the table out of the way.

“Get out of here,” my dad snarled at me. “This is between your mother and me.”

He didn’t account for the fact that I was bigger than him now. Stronger. And madder. “Get away from my mom,” I said low but just as deadly.

For a moment, his eyes stayed on mine, his pupils pinpricks and his jaw clenched tight.

My muscles were coiled, ready for him to try something, because now that the girls were gone and Mom was leaving, he had nothing left to lose.

Whether he saw the fight in my eyes or gave up, I didn’t know, but he turned and began walking away. My shoulders relaxed, and I let out a breath, realizing how close that had been. How much worse it could have ended.

Then Dad spun on his heel and swung his fist at me, his knuckles crashing squarely into my temple.

In the distance, I heard Mom scream, but spots were flaring in my vision as realization struck. Dad had hit me. Anger sent fire through my veins as blood dripped in my eye, and I advanced on him, swinging twice as hard as he hit me until I had him pinned to the ground. He scrambled against the tile floor, trying to gain purchase, but I wasn’t letting up.

“Carson!” Mom screamed.

I pinned him down, one forearm against his neck. His breath came out in wheezes, slower and slower. I slammed my fist into him, hitting him for all the times he’d hurt Clary, for the way he sent Gemma and Sierra running to all the wrong guys, for the pain he’d put my mom through with all his violence followed by broken, empty promises.

But then fingers dug into my shoulder, and Mom tugged on my arms, screaming, “Carson! You’re going to kill him!”

Something in me realized my dad was losing consciousness, and I pulled back. He scrambled to his feet, stepping away, and Mom and I ran out to her car. I held my head in my hands and she drove away, telling me we were driving to a hotel to stay the night.

None of that mattered, because I realized I’d fulfilled the Cook Family Curse. The anger flooding through my veins, acting in my fingertips, that would have let me kill my dad meant I could never be the kind of guy Callie deserved. I had to help Nick fall in love with her because I was the kind of guy who wasn’t going to stop.