The Lovely Reckless(56)
“You can’t order me around like a child.”
“I am your father,” he roars, the anger boiling over. “And you are my child. So you’ll do what I tell you.”
“You should’ve spent more time with me if you wanted to pull the dad card,” I fire back.
Dad stares at me, looking defeated. “Dammit, Frankie. I know I haven’t been the best parent, but you can’t just clock out when you work undercover. And you’ve always had your mom.”
“Bullshit. The only person who has Mom is Richard.” I’ve never cussed at my father before—or told him how I felt about anything. But I’m not letting him off easy. Not when he’s tearing my life apart.
Dad leans against the dresser. “I get it. I’m a shitty father, and you want to punish me.”
“Excuse me?”
He sighs. “I spend every day trying to bust guys who steal cars, so you decide to go out with one of them?”
Them.
Dad says it like he’s talking about serial killers or mass murderers. Not a seventeen-year-old former AP student trying to hold together what’s left of his family. Dad must not have any real proof that Marco steals cars, or he would’ve arrested him or thrown the information in my face by now. But he’s already decided Marco is guilty.
“If you want to punish me, I can live with that,” Dad says. “But don’t punish yourself by dating a piece of trash like Marco Leone. Haven’t you hurt yourself enough?”
Knowing how my dad feels about Marco makes me wonder what he really thinks of me.
“You’re right about one thing, Dad. I have hurt myself, and I’ve made plenty of mistakes, like driving drunk—which on your ‘everything is black or white, right or wrong’ scale definitely falls into the black category.”
Jimmy Devereux the cop knows I’m going somewhere with this, but when his shoulders sag, I know James Devereux the father won out. “Frankie, you’ve always been a good kid. But you’re going down the wrong road, and hanging out with criminals won’t help you get back on the right one.”
“Is it even possible for me to get back on the right road? If we’re working from your definition, I’m a criminal. Not ‘strong enough or honest enough to do the right thing.’” I do a bad impression of his voice. “Isn’t that what you said?”
The color drains from his face. “That’s not what I meant.”
I look him in the eye. “I don’t believe you.”
CHAPTER 26
NO GOING BACK
I con Lex into driving me to school early on Monday, and I head straight for Lot B, where Marco hangs out with Cruz and the other street racers who idolize them.
I’m all raw emotions and exposed nerves, playing a torturous game of what if with myself. What if Dad and Tyson are wrong about Marco, but there’s no way to prove it? What if Marco thinks I gave them information, and he never wants to speak to me again?
This situation must be some kind of mix-up, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time—or, if you’re Marco, having the wrong best friend. But I need Marco to tell me that himself.
I need to hear him say he’s not a thief.
Pretending I don’t have feelings for him isn’t an option anymore, because Marco made me care. Now every feeling is that much bigger, stronger, and more dangerous.
I spot him standing next to his Mustang, and my legs stop moving. One of the guys hanging out with him and Cruz says something, and Marco laughs. All I see is the boy who gave up everything for his sister, who held me when the flashback hit, who feeds a one-eyed stray cat … the boy who is afraid to want anything for himself.
He’s not a criminal.
He can’t be.
Marco notices me, and his face lights up.
What if it’s true and I have to walk away? Will I be able to forget that smile?
Cruz waves, but I haven’t moved. I’m not even breathing. Marco’s smile fades, and he jogs toward me.
“What’s wrong?” He reaches for me and I step back.
“Wait.” I hold up my hand so he’ll stop talking. My mind cycles through variations of the same question, searching for one that doesn’t sound like an accusation.
“Frankie?”
“Do you steal cars?” The moment the words leave my lips, I want to hit rewind and take them back.
Marco steers me away from the parking lot. “Is this a joke?”
“That’s not an answer.”
A familiar numbness wraps itself around me. It feels like I’m watching the situation from the outside, the way it did when a band of idiots planted a tree for my dead boyfriend, or my mom dumped me at Dad’s like a bag of garbage, or the flashbacks swallowed me whole without showing me the one piece of the story I need to see.
Marco leads me behind the gym, across from Lot B, where no one will overhear us. “Who told you that? Somebody at the rec center?”
He’s not denying it.
The truth etches itself into every line on his beautiful face.
“Is it true?” I already know the answer, but I don’t want to believe it.
“Shit.” Marco knots his fingers in his hair like he wants to rip it out of his scalp.
Everything I thought I knew about him—everything he said to me—was it all lies? “Were you ever going to tell me?”