Interim(67)

He eyed Casey’s target from afar and stood up slowly.

“You don’t deserve to have babies,” he said, lifting the rifle to her heart.

He took a deep breath.

And fired.





~

Yes, Dad. I’m using these guns for good.

~





“You’re quiet,” Brandon observed, nudging his girlfriend.

No reply.

“I said you’re quiet,” he noted again, this time with a slight edge to his voice. “I threw this party for you.”

Regan turned her face to hide the grin. For her? He threw this party for her? She hated parties—had always hated parties—and if he weren’t such a moron he’d remember her telling him that on several occasions.

“It’s just a lot of people,” she said softly.

Brandon sighed. “Regan, how many times have we been over this? They’re your friends, too. You act like they’re not.”

“They’re not.”

“They are,” he insisted. “Any friend of mine is a friend of yours.”

Riiight.

“I just tried to do something really special for you,” Brandon went on. “I care about you.”

Yeah, he cared about controlling her.

She bit her lip. The words that almost tumbled forth would have instigated an argument, and she was in no mood to fight. She never wanted to fight with Brandon again. She wanted to be rid of him altogether.

Then just tell him! her brain screamed. Tell him right now!

Regan shook her head.

“Why are you shaking your head? What? You don’t believe me when I say I care about you?” Brandon asked.

Regan cleared her throat. “I appreciate it. I do.”

His mouth hung open.

“What kind of response is that? You appreciate it? How about you say you care about me in return?” He turned his face.

“No no, I meant the gesture. The party. I appreciate it, but it’s not how I wanted to spend my birthday.”

Brandon’s mouth tightened.

“I mean, I don’t even talk to half of these people. And they’re already wasted. It’s just not my scene,” she continued.

“You make no effort,” Brandon snapped, whipping his head around to look at her. “We’ve been dating since ninth grade, and you’ve made no effort to get to know my friends and be a real part of my life.”

What? she thought. Is this guy for real?

“Lately I feel like you don’t give a shit about me,” he said.

I don’t.

“I explained everything to you about Hannah, but I feel like you still don’t believe me.”

I don’t.

“And I can’t tell you how much that hurts. I told you the truth. I threw this party for you. It’s like I can’t make you happy,” Brandon pouted. “I mean, who are you? I just . . . I don’t even know . . .” He paused and looked at her shirt. “Why are you wearing that?”

Regan flushed, eyes falling to her chest. “What is your obsession with my clothes? Why do you even care?”

“I care because I can’t help but think it’s a sign of you pulling away from me,” Brandon said.

Yep. Casey went running to him after all. Just as she’d threatened.

“And I don’t like it. I don’t like you dressing that way,” he said. “You need to change it.”

Regan jumped up. “Are you really saying this to me on my birthday? I mean, seriously. Are you really telling me what to do? You’re a jerk!”

Brandon stood up, towering over her.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk, okay? I’m just saying that appearance matters, and lately people have been like, ‘What’s up with your weird girlfriend?’ How do you think that makes me feel? We’re supposed to be setting an example.”

“We are? What example? How to act like *s?”

“Watch it,” Brandon warned.

“Don’t threaten me,” Regan shot back. “I’m sick and tired of you telling me what to do and what to say and what to wear!”

“I don’t tell you what to do,” Brandon argued.

“You just did! You told me to change how I’m dressing!” Regan cried.

“You make it sound like I’m saying that kind of stuff to you all the time,” Brandon said.