Time Bomb(5)

“Look, my father would like to be able to let you stay. He really liked your mom. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah.” Z closed the fridge and looked at the photo of his mother’s happy, healthy face pressed next to his five-year-old chocolate-coated one. “She was great.”

Was.

He swallowed hard while, behind him, Nick Mansanelli said, “I could talk to my dad about having you do some work on our cars in exchange for staying in their attic. It’s not the best place, but it would give you some time to sort out whatever it is you’re going to do next. I’m sure you could use the—”

“No need.” Z would rather sleep in a ditch than become slave labor for anyone. He uncapped the cold water and took a drink. “Tell your dad pretty soon he won’t have to worry about dealing with me ever again.”

Nick took another step back and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he looked around. “Can I . . . you know . . . help you do anything? Do you need some boxes or tape?” Nick turned toward the living room and nodded. “You got a lot of stuff to pack up around here. Why don’t I—”

“No.” Before Nick could step into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Z stalked forward and blocked him. “I don’t need your help.” Z didn’t need anyone.

Nick frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no prob—”

“I’m sure,” Z said as the phone in his back pocket chimed. He pulled it out and looked down at the display.



YOU OK? DID YOU HEAR FROM YOUR UNCLE IN CALIFORNIA? I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE TALK TO ME.





Kaitlin.

Of all the people who said they wanted to help, she actually did. But there wasn’t much more she could do or say. She kept telling him it was okay to be angry. That it would get better if he just gave it time. They all warned him about making decisions too fast. Urged him to give the relatives he barely remembered a chance to reach out. He had to give things time.

But time wasn’t going to change the fact that his mother was dead and that everything sucked.

Kaitlin had been there for him when everyone else had bailed. Extended family. Neighbors. Teachers. He’d tried to tell her to get lost when she followed him out of the school after he’d been in detention. But she dogged him all the way to the parking lot and insisted he give her a ride home. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital where his mother got treatments. It wasn’t as if he was going to say no, but that didn’t mean he was going to talk to her. Which was probably what Kaitlin wanted, since she had plenty to say. Kaitlin had been determined to be his friend, even when he didn’t want her to be. Even when he cut school more than he bothered to go. If it hadn’t been for her, he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far.

And now he was going to cut her loose before he dragged her down. She deserved better.

Z shoved the phone into his pocket and looked back at Nick.

“Look,” Z said with a deliberate sigh. “If that’s all you came here for, I’ve got to get going. There’s a teacher I have to talk to at school, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Nick slapped Z on the shoulder. The universal sign for I want you to think I’ve got your back, even though I plan on screwing you the first chance I get. “Hey, no problem. I just came by to see how you were doing and make sure you didn’t need anything before—”

Before you chucked me to the curb. Z again clenched his hands into fists at his side, and Nick backed up a step.

Finally, the guy turned toward the front door and said, “Hey, make sure to take care of yourself. And give them hell at that school. I never liked it much anyway.”

At last, one thing they could agree on.

Z chugged the water, then headed down the hall toward his room to grab his father’s old army duffle and the letter that had arrived last week. His cell phone chimed as he was slinging the bag onto his shoulders, but he ignored it. He had things to do.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the picture of him and Mom and slid it next to his phone. He then walked out of the apartment. No need to lock the door. If someone wanted to clear the rest out, let them. He was going to school, and he wasn’t coming back.





10:03 a.m.





Tad





— Chapter 4 —


TAD GLANCED DOWN at his phone to see if he just missed hearing the text coming in.

Nothing.



HEY. JUST CHECKING TO SEE IF YOU WANTED TO HANG TODAY, SINCE WE DON’T HAVE PRACTICE. NOT SURE IF MY LAST MESSAGE WENT THROUGH.





He hit SEND and threw his phone down on his bed before throwing himself down next to it. Of course the message went through yesterday, as had all the others he’d sent and hadn’t gotten a response to since football practice started a few weeks ago.

Still, he kept sending them. He let himself hope that maybe he’d get one in response—as he had for the dozens they’d shared before suddenly everything had changed.

Stupid. Sixteen and in love with a guy who didn’t return his texts and avoided the hell out of him at football practice. Like Tad was going to hold his hand or pat his ass in front of the other guys and let everyone know they’d hooked up this summer. He still wasn’t sure how it happened. It was almost like some B-movie script. Tad had turned and had seen Frankie watching him. That one look changed everything. Normally, Tad left parties early, but that look during that Fourth of July party made him stick around long after everyone else had gone. He hadn’t expected anything. He’d just wanted to hang. After all, the guy had bagged half the cheerleaders and had even dated Miss Perfect Rich Girl, Diana Sanford. Hell, he’d never given any sign that he was gay or that he was attracted to anyone other than white girls.