Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(149)
Author: A.M. Hudson

I shook my head. “Not now that he knows she died because of me, I—”

“Ara. Don’t say that.” He grabbed my arms firmly and pulled me in for a short hug. “I’m the loser that turned you down. I’m the one to blame. Not you.”

“No, Mike.” I gently shook my head and closed my eyes, calling on the strength I’d come to know since meeting David, trying to believe my next words. “It was no one’s fault. It just happened and, I guess—” I opened my eyes to Mike’s smile, “—I guess it’s natural to look for someone to blame, but neither of us intended that to happen. We should both stop blaming ourselves.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your dad was heartbroken when I told him you were carrying the blame. He hadn’t even guessed it, you know. He’s been so worried about you, and when I told him you felt responsible for what happened to your mum, he was actually relived that that’s all it was. He doesn’t hate you, baby, he can’t hate you. He loves you too much. That’s why he let you have a few days off—to be with me.”

“He likes you,” I noted begrudgingly.

“He’s an excellent judge of character.” Mike grinned; I smiled back. I couldn’t resist it. He just had this presence about him that excluded everyone from his inner circle of love, but when he smiled like that, it meant you belonged.

“I can’t believe you told him about us. I yelled at him, you know—when he accused me of loving you.”

“Is that such a bad accusation?” Mike asked, a little insulted.

“It’s not true.” I smiled.

“Ouch.” He laughed, then leaned over my body with his face right up close to mine. “So? What do you want to do today?”

“Honestly?” I unfolded my arms. “I think I’d like to just sit around and watch movies.”

“I thought you’d say that. But, I get to hold the popcorn.”

“No way! You always do.”

“I’ll fight you for it.” He tickled my ribs.

“Stop it!” I giggled, wriggling about, trying to pull his hand away without knocking the tray.

“Make me.”

“Mike!” I squealed. “Stop it or I’ll wet myself.”

“Stopping.” He raised his hands above his head and sat back.

“Ha!” I said. “Works every time.”

Vicki heaped another pile of butter-scented potatoes onto Mike’s plate. “So, what did you kids get up to today?”

“Watched movies,” I said with my mouth full.

“Anything good?” Dad asked, sprinkling salt on his dinner; Vicki just sighed at him as she sat down in the soft light of our candlelit dinner.

“Couple of oldies. Ara made me watch some black-and-white with a curly-haired kid in it,” Mike said.

Dad looked at me. “What movie?”

“Oh, um, Shirley Temple,” I said.

“Ah, yes, good ol’ Shirley.” Dad nodded.

“I used to love Shirley,” Vicki said dreamily. “I grew up watching those movies.”

Sam slid down in his seat. “You grew up watching the invention of the light bulb.”

“That’s enough, son,” Dad said sternly.

“Why the long face, Sam?” Mike asked, passing the peas to Vicki when she motioned for them.

“I got a B on my English paper…”

Big deal. At least you didn’t inadvertently tell your boyfriend you’re in love with another man.

“What’s wrong with a B?” Mike asked.

“Dad expects a B-plus-A-minus average,” I said and smiled at Dad.

“It’s not that I expect that, Ara-Rose,” Dad said, “I just know you’re both capable of it. If you aren’t achieving those results, it means you’re not applying yourselves.”

“But it isn’t my fault!” Sam dumped his elbow on the table. “Mr Benson hates me, he’s always in my face about stuff I—”

“Samuel. Teachers do not degrade papers based on their opinions of students,” Dad cut in. “You need to start accepting responsibility for yourself.” When he glared at the tabled elbow, Sam quietly removed it. “You got a B because you prioritised video games over homework.”

“Video games have more value to me than English homework, Dad. How will knowing what a verb is or deciphering Shakespeare get me a job out in the ‘real world’?”

“What do you want to do?” Mike asked, cutting off Dad’s large mouthful of Sam-serving air.

“Video game design,” Sam said into his chest.

“Cool.” Mike nodded.

Sam looked up. “Really? You think that’s cool?”

Mike looked at Dad; Dad sighed and separated himself from the conversation by pouring gravy. “Yeah. That’s a great business to get into—especially now with all the developments in graphics and, not to mention, you can actually make more money in the gaming industry than the film industry.”

“Dad doesn’t agree.” Sam’s eyes dropped their hopeful glimmer. “He says I need to be serious. That designing games isn’t gonna get me a stable income.”

Mike just laughed. “It won’t—if you don’t have a good education. How many companies do you think will hire a kid who can’t even commit to homework?”

Sam looked puzzled. “What difference will that make?”

“Because it’s not just about what you learn at school. It’s also about proving you have the ability to put your head down and do the work, especially if you care nothing for it. If you can’t do that, Sam, you don’t have the right to a job you love doing, and I can tell you—” Mike scoffed, “—even in a job you love, there’ll be moments you hate.”

Sam became smaller in his chair.

“Point is, mate, you work hard through the crap so you can enjoy the other eighty percent that’s good. Not to mention, if you want to design games, you will need English—and math.” Mike winked at me. “Creativity, passion, and some mad computer skills won’t be enough if you want a stable income. You need that piece of paper they call a degree. That’s all there is to it. So, in that way, your dad’s right. But—” he held a finger up while he shovelled a spoonful of potato in and swallowed, “—if you just do all the hard work while you have nothing else to worry about except being a kid, when you grow up and you want the job stability you care nothing for now, you won’t have to fight for it—it’ll be yours.”