Silver Bastard (Silver Valley #1)(43)
Author: Joanna Wylde

“Pretty much. He also wanted me to have sex with him after, said I left him hanging. I tried to apologize to him this morning but I couldn’t seen any signs of life in his apartment. Of course, he might’ve been ignoring me. Probably not his favorite person right now. What the hell am I going to do, Danielle?”

She cocked her head, thinking.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to be happy.”

“Give me more to work with. Do you want Puck?”

“No,” I said slowly. “I mean, yes. I totally want Puck, as in having sex with him would kick ass. But it’s more than I can handle—he’s so intense, you know? And I have no idea what to do about my mom, either. When she called this morning she said she’d been wrong, that she needs to find her own way out, and that I’m a good daughter. Up to that point I was pissed at her, but now I just feel guilty. I want to help her but I don’t have two grand. And what if she does leave him? I mean, where is she going to live? With me? I love her and I want her to get away, but having her in my place would be really hard. I’m not sure her brain is even right—she’s gotten beat so much over the years and she’s done a lot of drugs. Realistically, I’d be way too busy taking care of her to have a relationship with anyone. I’m just too fucked up for this.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Any of it,” she said. “Let’s assume your mom is serious and actually leaves him. You can find somewhere else for her to live. Taking care of someone and living with them are two different things. I’ll even help you—women leave men all the time, and there are shelters and stuff. You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”

“No, I want her with me,” I insisted, and it wasn’t a lie. “She’s a shittastic mom, but she’s still mine and I love her.”

“Okay, so that means you need to get rid of Puck,” she said. “Sounds like after last night it won’t be too hard.”

“I still need to apologize to him.”

“Yeah, although he was being a douche, so don’t whip yourself too much. Just tell him you’re sorry and walk away. Short and sweet.”

“All right.”

“Now, about your mom. You say she needs two grand?”

“That’s what she told me.”

“She’s full of shit. She can go to a women’s shelter, hide out for a week or two, and then get a bus ticket up here. That’s reasonable.”

“Still costs money,” I told her. “And I’m not sure she’ll go to a shelter. She’s stubborn.”

Danielle sighed. “If she won’t go to a shelter, then she doesn’t really want to leave him and two grand won’t change anything. You need enough money to get her up here, but she has to take the first step. You can’t do it for her.”

I nodded slowly, because she was right.

“You’re going to be okay, Becca,” Danielle said, leaning forward to catch my shoulders. Her eyes met mine, full of love and support. God, I’m lucky to have a friend like this. “We all love you. This shit with Puck will blow over—he’ll find someone else and it’ll all be history. Don’t worry, okay?”

I nodded again, refusing to acknowledge the tiny twinge of pain I felt. Just another symptom of how fucked up I’d gotten, because the thought of Puck with another woman didn’t exactly make me feel better.

Nope.

If anything, I felt like barfing.

Hopefully that was just the Fireball.

—

My day got better after my visit with Danielle.

Usually I don’t buy into the whole talking-things-through school of thought but this time it worked for me. My best friend was just so matter-of-fact and full of common sense that by the time we’d finished our nails, I felt almost human again because she was right.

I didn’t have to do this.

Mom made her own bed a long time ago—nobody expected me to rescue or save her. Whatever I decided to do, it was entirely my choice.

Rejecting Puck was my choice, too. If I couldn’t handle a relationship, I couldn’t handle a relationship and it wasn’t against the law to stay single. I definitely owed him an apology, though. Would talking to him be hard? Yes. But I’d survived worse.

Ultimately, the Mom Situation was the tough one to figure out. In some ways it would’ve been so much easier if she hadn’t called back. Our talk that morning threw me off in a big way—my mom didn’t apologize. Ever. This was way different from any of her normal tricks, and that scared me.

What if I didn’t send her the money and he actually killed her? But how could I send it even if I wanted to? It wasn’t like two grand would just fall out of the sky.

The thought haunted me as I drove home with my clean clothes. I stopped by Puck’s apartment again, hoping he’d be there so I could get it over with. Sometimes you just have to rip the Band-Aid off, you know? Naturally he was nowhere to be found. Instead of letting myself fester and worry, I decided to follow my original plan for the day and went huckleberry picking.

Three hours later I had enough of the tiny purple berries to make a pie for Earl. With luck I’d get a bonus batch of muffins out of it, too. Just accomplishing something so simple made me feel better, and I even found myself singing along to my music when I showered before my shift. So what if I owed a scary biker an apology and my mom might get murdered any minute?

I’d have muffins for breakfast.

By nine that night, not even the thought of muffins helped, because the dickwads (and dickwaddettes) from the Northwoods Academy had plopped their asses down in my section at the Moose. So far as I could tell, the school was one big asshole factory.

“I thought they weren’t allowed off campus,” I hissed at Danielle, slamming my tray down on the bar next to her. She wasn’t on tonight, but she’d come in to give me moral support. Probably planned to give Blake more than that during his break, lucky boy. “Why the hell are they here again?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, shrugging. “Just watch out for that blonde bitch with the diamonds. I busted ass keeping up with all their fucking orders the other night. One of the guys left a damned good tip, a fifty. She swapped it out for a twenty, pocketed the difference.”

I raised my brows. The “blonde bitch” looked like she was maybe eighteen years old, and the clothing she wore probably cost more than my car.