Tore Up (Mississippi Smoke Series Book 1)

Bills were stacked up on the kitchen counter. That was one of the few things that Iris had left behind. In the three days since they’d left, five more bills had arrived. Rent would also be due in a few days, and Nick had yet to come back home. I had worked double shifts all week, and my tips weren’t enough to cover the rent, but I could keep the electricity and water on if I had to. But if Nick didn’t come back, that wouldn’t matter because if the rent was even one day late, Jimmy Yerks, the landlord, would be knocking on the door.

Stepping out of the shower, I took the towel that I had found in a pile of dirty laundry they hadn’t taken. I had washed it and the set of twin sheets that she had stripped from one of the boys’ mattresses. I was just thankful she hadn’t wanted to take them with her. The sheets were all I’d had to make a space on the floor to sleep on. I’d folded the extra towel and used it as a pillow. I was lucky that it was the summer and warmth wasn’t a requirement.

I started to dry off when I heard footsteps, causing me to freeze, staring at myself in the mirror as if my reflection could tell me who it was. I listened carefully, my eyes shifting to the bathroom door that I hadn’t locked. It had to be Nick. I wrapped the towel back around me and stood there, waiting to see if he called my name or said anything.

He sounded as if he’d walked into their bedroom. I cringed. I’d never seen Nick angry. Not really. The look of disgust and disinterest I was accustomed to, but when Iris made him mad, he usually just walked out the door and didn’t return for days. Several minutes passed, and I didn’t hear anything.

Reaching over, I grabbed my discarded shorts and tank to slip back on. I couldn’t stay in here forever, and he had to know I was here. He’d have heard the shower running when he came inside.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I hung the towel back up to dry and took a deep breath before opening the door. Stepping out into the living room, I looked over at the room he had shared with Iris.

I never spoke to him first. He’d taught me long ago that he didn’t like the sound of my voice. Being left here with just him was strange. We’d never lived together alone—at least that I could remember. The few months after my mother’s death, I had been an infant, and I wasn’t sure what he’d done with me during that time. Again, things he hadn’t told me. We had no relationship.

His tall form filled the doorway. There was a duffel bag in his right hand. He looked at me with the same color green eyes as Carina’s.

“You’ll need to be gone by the first,” he told me.

This was what I’d been worried about the most at night while I lay awake.

“Where are you going?” I asked him. My voice cracked, and I hated showing this man any emotion at all. Especially a weakness. I’d spent so many of my earlier years trying to find ways to please him, only to have him ignore me and my attempts.

“Away,” he replied, then started walking toward the door.

Panic at the reality of the situation hit me. This was happening. He was leaving me alone.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I told him.

He stopped and glanced back at me. “You’re a grown woman now. Not my problem anymore. Iris did her job. Got you raised. Now, use that fucking face of your mother’s and find a man to take care of you if you can’t do it yourself.”

My mother’s face? He’d never once mentioned her or that I looked like her. That wasn’t the focus here though. He was walking away. I was about to be homeless.

“I can’t use my face to get a man to take care of me! What does that even mean? I need time to save for this. I have been helping Iris pay the bills. I don’t have money put away to just go get a place to live.” I sounded like I was on the verge of tears, but I couldn’t help it.

He was my father. Somewhere deep inside, he had to care about me a little.

He sighed heavily. “You’re nineteen years old, and you’re not that fucking naive. You know what I mean, and you know what the fuck you look like. Learn to use it. I’ve got other responsibilities.”

Not once in my life had this man ever insinuated that I was even pretty. He’d never complimented me. I was the invisible family member where he was concerned. Now, he was standing here, telling me that he believed my looks could hook some man to take care of me.

I shook my head in disbelief. “What is it?!” I shouted. All the pain in my chest that I had kept down all these years from his neglect seemed to burst out from me at once. “What did I do to you? Why do you hate me? Why can’t you even manage to care about me at all? If this were Carina, you’d be busting your ass to take care of her. But me? You tell me to go what, become a prostitute?” Hot tears rolled down my face.

If he was going to just walk away, then I wanted to have those answers at least. I’d never pushed him to acknowledge me, but right now, he was going to.

“You are hers.” He said the three words with the same calm response he did everything. But this time, there was something laced in his tone. It wasn’t anger. It was … pain.

“My mother’s? So, because of my mother, you hate me?”

He stood there silently, staring at me. The flicker of sadness in his eyes surprised me. I hadn’t known the man could feel anything unless it concerned Carina.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “But you are a reminder of her. Every year of your life, you looked more and more like her. Until you turned into a fucking replica. Looking at you is hard. I don’t want to remember. I can’t and survive.”

I blinked as another tear broke free, and I reached up to wipe at my face. His voice had sounded as if it was agony to just talk about my mother.

Had he loved her? Was that it? Her death had been too much for him?

“You loved her?” I asked.

In my head, all the reasons for his disinterest in me was because of the way he’d felt about her. I’d never once considered he had loved her.

He turned his head to look at the door instead of me. I could see his jaw work as he clenched his teeth. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, but just walk out. Never to be seen again—at least by me.

“She was my fucking world, and because of you, I lost her.”

Me? I had been an infant.

“What did I do?” I asked, feeling my throat close up.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, but he didn’t look at me. “Your mother was … she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. She was full of light and laughter, and she could make me feel as if everything would be okay. She was also fragile. Like a doll. Her life hadn’t been easy, and she struggled with memories from her childhood. But I took care of her. Protected her. Then, she got pregnant. Throughout the pregnancy, she had her moments of fear. Unsure she could be a good mother because of the mother she had. I did all I could. I praised her. I reassured her. And you were born. Three days after coming home from the hospital, she withdrew. Got quiet. She would take care of you, but little else. She never wanted to leave the house.” He paused and sucked in a breath, then winced, as if the words were causing him actual pain. “They told me it was postpartum depression. That, along with her mental issues she dealt with—it was a bad combination. There was too much emotional damage.” He swung his eyes back to me then. “She left me. She took her life while I was at work. Your birth had done that to her. You broke her.”

I stood there as a heaviness began to settle over me. It was suffocating. The weight on my chest was crushing.

He began walking again, and I said nothing as he went to the door. This was it. He was going to walk out of this house and just leave me. My stepmother had left with my younger siblings. Ares was gone. Crosby had completely vanished.

Why was it that I was so easy to leave? Everyone left me.

I closed my eyes when the door closed behind Nick. Several minutes passed as I heard the engine in his truck, then the sound of him pulling out of the driveway. When I opened my eyes again, I looked toward the master bedroom. He’d taken what he wanted and gone. All that was left in this house was mine. You’d think I was used to feeling alone by now, but I’d never truly understood what that was until this moment.

This was alone. In a house I’d lived in for most of my life. The memories of my life here, both good and bad, felt like ghosts in the emptiness.

Tomorrow, I’d have to find a place to live.

Nick had been so sure that my looks would be all I needed when even he’d had no problem leaving me. Just like the only mother I’d ever known, the woman who had given birth to me, and Crosby had. Holding on to the hope that Crosby would return, that there would be a good excuse, that he’d called Carina’s phone and not been able to get in touch with me was a waste of time. If he was going to call or text, he would have done so by now.

Turning around, I walked into the bedroom I had shared with my sister. The sound of her laughter seemed to be a faint whisper as I went over to my side of the closet to start packing my things. Sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon.