Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Forty

CARSON

Beckett shook my shoulder roughly. “Carson.” Fear filled his voice. “Carson! You okay?”

I slowly pried my eyes open. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. My muscles ached, my feet burned, and holy hell this headache was making it hard to think.

But my thoughts were there, at the ready to attack me with every passing second.

I’d lost everything last night. My best friend. My girlfriend. My future. And for what? To teach my dad a lesson? That low life didn’t deserve any of my time, but I’d fallen into the trap of my family curse, hook, line, and sinker.

Beckett gripped his hand underneath my arm, hauling me to a sitting position. The light streaming in through their penthouse windows burned, and I squinted against it. “What time is it?”

“Noon,” Beckett answered, his eyes dark. “What the hell happened? You look terrible.”

I rubbed my forehead, then raked my fingers through the knots in my hair. His question, and my answer, made my eyes sting. “I lost her.” Emotion heaved at my chest, and I sobbed, falling over my knees.

“What happened?” The fear was still there in Beckett’s voice, but I couldn’t tell him part of last night’s event without telling him all of it, and I couldn’t even think about speaking over this massive boulder growing in my throat.

Every time I thought I was close to being able to talk, the sobs came harder, so hard I dry-heaved until Beckett got me a bowl and I lost acid inside it. He tried consoling me, but when he failed, I heard him talking to Rory on the phone. I assumed it was Rory, because I heard him muttering Callie’s name, thinking I wouldn’t hear him say it.

I fell back on his couch, throwing my arm over my face to at least shield me from the light. When did light get that bright? When did just being awake hurt so much?

I didn’t know when, or how, but I passed out again. My brain must have known staying awake was too much to bear. When I woke again, orange light came through the windows and Beckett was handing me toast. Telling me to sit up and get something in my stomach.

There was a drink too. Something sugary that went horribly with the cardboard I was trying to stomach.

After I’d finished half a piece, Beckett said, “Rory told me what happened.”

The stake in my heart twisted, because that meant more people knew how horrible I was. That I’d almost killed my dad, not once but twice. That the Cook Family Curse was alive and well inside my body, and falling for someone just meant saddling them with it too.

Beckett patted my back. “I’m so sorry.”

His words made my throat tight, and I swallowed, hard. “I lost her.” I choked out.

“It doesn’t have to be over, does it?” he asked. “Rory said you were the one who called it.”

I shook my head and shoved my drink away on the coffee table. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me. She’s afraid of me.”

“She was surprised!” Beckett argued. “Can you blame her?”

“No. That’s the problem. She’s better off with someone else—anyone else.”

“You can’t let your fear get in the way of your relationship with her,” Beckett said, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “Being in love is hard—no one said you had to be perfect.”

I gripped at my chest, over the spot where hollowness had replaced my heart. “And that means I’m not going to risk her.”

“But you are!” he argued, standing up. “You’re running away scared.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, ready to punch him too. If he couldn’t see that Callie needed to be protected—that I was a danger to her—he was part of the problem. “You might be fine with girls rolling the dice on a guy like me, but I’m not. She deserves so much better.” I shook my head at him and began grabbing my things to leave.

“So that’s it? You’re just going? You’re not even going to try?” Disappointment dripped from his voice and landed on me like acid.

“I’ve been trying.” I hauled two garbage bags over my shoulders and walked to the elevator. The second I pushed the button, the doors dinged and opened.

As I stepped inside and jabbed the button to the parking garage, Beckett looked at me and shook his head. “I thought you were better than that.”

I lifted my chin. “I did too.”

The metal doors closed on my view of him, and I sagged back against the wall. Everyone was disappointed in me, which just reassured me I was making the right decision by leaving. But I wasn’t really sure where I’d go.

I’d planned on life-guarding the rest of the summer and saving my money, but I couldn’t stay here anymore. The pool—the town—carried too many memories of Callie. It turned out when you spent your whole life loving someone, it was hard to know what to do, who to be, when that relationship stopped.

I thought about calling Mom, asking if I could bum it with her in her hotel where I wouldn’t know a soul, but that didn’t feel right either. I’d just be around another one of the women who suffered at the hands of the Cooks. I needed to go somewhere different, somewhere safe.

I got out my phone and typed in my grandparents’ address, and then I left Emerson and my old self behind.

The farther I got from Emerson, the emptier I felt. I was leaving my past, but I was also leaving my future. My phone kept ringing as calls from Gemma and my mom came through. Gemma had surely told Mom, but there wasn’t a great way to say the apple didn’t fall far from the poison tree.

I needed my GPS to get to my grandparents’ house, though, so I finally bit the bullet and picked up the phone. Before I had a chance to say anything, my mom’s voice came through the speakers, saying, “Carson! Thank God you’re okay.”

My lip curled at her concern. Was she really that worried about my safety? My well-being? She raised four children in a home with an abuser, and now she wanted to make sure I was okay?

“I’m not okay, Mom. I have a bruise on my face the size of your husband’s fist and one in my side the size of his shoe. My sister’s going back to work with a shiner, and the girl I love is terrified of me.” My vision blurred, and I pulled off onto the shoulder. A semi blew past, careless to the turmoil happening alongside the road.

Suddenly, the car felt too small, too tight, and I stepped into the hot, dry air, staring over the desert scrub. I crossed the front of the car, pressing my eyes to keep the tears at bay. When I lifted the phone back to my ear, my mom’s sobs came through the speaker.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I’d dreamed of the day my parents would realize they’d made a mistake—the day they’d apologize for what they put my sisters and me through, but this didn’t feel like what I’d imagined. Mom’s words didn’t change the last eighteen years, didn’t make the bruise go away, wouldn’t make me a safe person for Callie.

I didn’t need Mom’s apology. I needed my grandparents. Someone to love me no matter where I came from.

I got back into my car and drove until I reached my old hometown. Until the brick bungalow came into view. And then I walked down the sidewalk and I stared at the bright yellow door to my grandparents’ house. It looked exactly the same, but incredibly different. They had the same porch swing out front. The same old truck sat in the driveway, but now they had a massive carport beside their house for their RV. Their doormat read Home Is Where You Park It.

Now that I was here, I felt like a little kid again, running over from my parents’ house to avoid their arguing. To get some freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk and a solid hour of cartoons. The same sense of security wasn’t there, though. Because I knew no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t escape the curse. Couldn’t escape myself.

I wasn’t even sure if I should knock. As a kid I used to walk right in, but it had been a long time since I called Texas home.

My question was answered as the door swung open and my grandma pulled me into a hug. She was shorter than me—only coming up to the base of my chest—but she made me feel small wrapped inside her arms. Safe.

I dropped my head on her shoulder and sobbed.