Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(23)

He jerked back, stunned. “It was a car accident. You had nothing to do with that.”

“I caused it.”

“The driver in the other car caused it.”

I shook my head no. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“You had nothing to do with your parents’ death. Do you understand me? Nothing,” he argued in a stern tone I’d never heard before.

I stood, looking deep into his eyes, and spoke with conviction, “Have you ever killed anyone?”





Chapter 7





<>Austin<>



I had been staring at the letter on my desk all morning. It didn’t look as pristine as it did three months ago. I don’t know how many times I had folded and unfolded it. Reading the same lines over and over again, still not finding the courage to bring it up to my parents.

“It is our pleasure to inform you that your application for admission to the School of Art and Design at Pratt Institute for the Fall Semester has been approved. We congratulate you on your acceptance and look forward to having you begin your professional studies at Pratt.”

I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get in. Not a chance in hell they would accept my application. I had known about Pratt, School of Art and Design, since I was a kid. Anyone with the kind of passion I had for drawing knew that this was the school to attend if you wanted a career in arts. They were the number one art school in the US, receiving thousands of applications. Getting in was a miracle itself.

My parents had been on my ass about college and applying to schools for months. I finally applied to a few, including Ohio State, just to get them off my ass. The truth was I didn’t even want to go to f*cking college, but Pratt…

That was different.

Being the number one art school, I thought maybe that bit of information would sway my parents’ opinion on the subject. So I applied. My GPA was decent, even though school wasn’t really my thing. I had already started a portfolio of my drawings, years of adding sketches upon sketches into it. All I was required to do was send in my application with a few sketches, some letters of recommendation which my art teachers were more than happy to provide, and an application fee. I shoved my packet into the mailbox one morning before school and didn’t give it a second thought.

I started to check the mailbox on a daily basis so I could intercept the mail from the schools I had no interest in attending. I would throw away the response letters without even opening them. I didn’t care if I got in, I wasn’t going to Stanford or Florida State or whatever other f*cking school they made me apply to. I tried to voice my opinion, but I could never get a word in, and if I did, it went in one ear and out the other.

My parents weren’t bad people, but they were overachievers. Always needing the best of the best and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Out of all of our families, mine was the best off financially. My parents’ had to have nice things. We lived in a big house in a high-end, gated community. They were VIP members at the country club. They had new cars every year. We went on expensive vacations.

The whole nine yards.

To me, they were just keeping up with the Jones’.

I couldn’t tell you how many times the boys and Half-Pint’s parents f*cked with my parents. Saying that they worked too much, that we didn’t own our things, they owned us.

I knew at the end of the day they wanted what was best for me. Not thinking that maybe I already knew what that was. They were suffocating me and they didn’t even realize it. In their eyes, everything was the way it was supposed to be.

Which was why I had been holding onto the acceptance letter for the last three months, debating on telling them. Praying every day that they would be supportive of my decision, even though I knew in my heart that they would shut it down. All my life I felt like my parents, the boys, and maybe even Alex, were all trying to mold me into something I wasn’t.

Something they wanted me to be.

I never felt accepted, I never felt good enough, and that’s what killed me the most. That’s what ate away at me, piece by piece.

At the end of the day… I needed to make myself happy. Life was too short, you only lived once, and all that other bullshit.

I wanted to make the best of it.

I grabbed the letter off my desk along with my art portfolio. No one knew about my talent, except Alex. I wanted to keep it to myself, and maybe that was my first mistake. For the first time in my life, I had to show everyone who I was, and I was scared shitless. I would start with my parents, they loved me and I knew that. I just hoped they loved me enough to let me come into my own.

If I wanted them to accept me for who I was or who I wanted to be, I guess I should start by giving them a chance.

“Austin, there you are, honey, I was about to call you down. Dinner’s almost ready. Will you help me set the table?”

I nodded, placing the letter and portfolio on my chair. We sat down shortly after for dinner, and I waited until my dad asked me his usual dinnertime questions.

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Have you heard back on any more colleges?”

“Honey, I thought we decided he was going to go to Ohio State with the boys?” My mama interjected. “It’s a great school, and he wants to be with his friends. I think it’d be good if they all stayed together. You know Austin has always needed a leader.”