Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Fourteen

CARSON

Mom and I spent the night in a pair of connected rooms. She took one and I took the other, but honestly, I just wanted her to lie with me like she used to when I was little and having nightmares. I wanted her to tell me that there was something special in me. That I was good. That I hadn’t just been about to kill my father.

But that would all be a lie. I tried to justify my actions a million ways in my mind—he hurt my sisters, he hurt my mom, he’d slung fists at me, but the truth was I was just done with him. I was done with the way he made all of us feel. Done with him driving people away from me. Done with the fact that his family’s curse, his blood, ran in my veins.

Maybe that was the real reason why nothing had worked with Sarah. Not because of my feelings for Callie but because of who I was. Maybe that part of me was too big and Sarah had been repulsed by it. Maybe Callie should be too. I didn’t know how my mom was even in the next room. If she just left in the middle of the night and never came back, I wouldn’t have blamed her.

A soft knock sounded on the adjoining door, and when I didn’t respond, it creaked open and Mom poked her head in. “Hey, baby. Breakfast is going to be over here in a bit. Want to go down with me?”

My throat felt tight, and I swallowed. “No.”

She paused for a second, but instead of leaving like I’d expected her to, she came and sat on my bed, by the tangled sheets around my feet. After flicking on a lamp, she gently rested a hand on my calves and said, “I’m sorry about last night.”

My eyes opened wider. Out of all the things I’d thought she would say, that was the last. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head, her blond hair curling around her shoulders. “I never should have put us in that position. I just thought your dad was asleep, and I—I…” She put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I’ve put you kids through so much.”

I sat up, shocked by her admission. Her words hit me hard because I’d wanted to hear them all my life, but they fell flat, missed their mark. What good was an apology from a flame when everything had been singed to ash?

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked.

“I don’t even know if I can forgive myself.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows creased together so much like Clary’s did. It made me miss my sisters that much more.

“Mom,” I breathed, haunted. “I could have killed him.” I looked down at my fingers, so innocuous, but last night...

She took me in her arms and squeezed me tight. “Don’t you ever blame yourself for defending yourself or the people you love.”

“What’s the difference between defense and revenge?” I asked, because I had crossed the line last night, wherever it lay.

She thought for a moment and finally said, “The difference is in how you feel about yourself. Defense says I love myself more than I hate you. Revenge says I hate you more than I love myself.” She paused and stood. “Come on. You need some food.”

Feeling like I had a boulder on my chest, I got out of bed and slipped my T-shirt back on. We hadn’t had time to get anything the night before, but I hoped we’d get a chance to grab some things later on. Like my car—my computer, the things I’d worked for and bought for college coming up soon.

We went down to the dining area and chose from the picked-over buffet. I could tell the food was good for a hotel breakfast, even though it tasted like cardboard going into my mouth.

Mom passed me a cup of coffee and then a bag of ice. “Put this on your bruise.”

My eyebrows came together. “Bruise?”

Her sad eyes fell on mine, then shifted slightly to the right. I lifted my fingers to my left temple, to the throbbing spot I’d thought was a guilt-induced headache. It was tender to my touch. For the first time, my dad had left a mark where it couldn’t be covered.

Good, let there be a bruise to remind me what I was getting away from. What I didn’t want to become. I set the ice to the side, wanting the wound to look as bad as possible, and continued eating. I might not have loved myself as much as I hated my dad, but I loved Callie more than all of that.

“What do you have going on today?” Mom asked.

I swallowed a gulp of orange juice and then wiped at my mouth. “I have a shift at the pool, and then I’m hanging out with Callie.”

Her smile seemed genuine. “I’m glad you have such a good friend.” Her lips fell. “We need to talk about what you’re going to do while I’m gone.”

The boulder grew even bigger, and I had to force myself to take a deeper breath. The night before, she’d said I could stay with Grandma and Gramps.

But I didn’t like that option. No matter how much I missed my grandparents or hated my dad, Emerson was my home. The Copelands were my home. Leaving Callie behind would be a thousand times more painful than the bruise blossoming on my face. That was why I’d asked her all those years ago to escape with me. There was never a version of my future that didn’t have her in it. As my neighbor. As my friend. As more.

But the last twenty-four hours had changed everything. Should I leave? Get as far away from Callie as possible to save her from myself?

“I need some time to think about it,” I told my mom.

She put her hand on my arm. “We have a little time.”

One week to be exact. One week in this hotel before she left for Phoenix, before I was on my own.