Page 97 of Commit
I shake my head, refusing to think about it anymore today. There isn’t anything I can do about it until I talk to him, anyway.
My cell phone chimes in my hand, and I jump to answer, relieved that he’s finally replying, when I realize it’s from a number I don’t recognize.
I swipe to open it and grin despite of my disappointment that it’s not Abbot.
Hi Starling. It’s Kate. I just wanted to let you know the police came and took my stepdad away.
Me and mom talked some more, and we cried, and it was good but hard. I feel guilty that I wrecked her world. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for everything and ask if you were coming back to the center for a meeting. I guess it just feels easier to talk when you’re there.
Sorry that was a lot. Anyway, text me back, okay?
I bite my lip, wondering how to handle this. I feel a little out of my depth, but I won’t bail on her. I haven’t done much with my life—I’ve just been surviving—but I know I can help her. I know what she’s going through, and if she keeps blaming herself, it’s only going to mess her up more. I picture her taking a razor to her wrist and hurry to type back.
I’m so proud of you and your mom. I need you to hear what I’m about to say…
IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. IT WAS NOT MY FAULT. IT WAS NOT OUR FAULT.
You didn’t wreck anyone’s life. If you ask your mom, she’s probably blaming herself for bringing him into your life. The only person to blame is him!
And you want to know a secret? The best way to get your revenge is living a full and happy life.
Your smile is the biggest fuck you.
I won’t mention going to another session just yet because I don’t know when I’ll be able to.
She sends me back a bunch of smiling and heart GIFs, making me grin.
Yeah, she’s going to be okay.
The last GIF is of a little girl who looks all sweet and innocent, smiling with her middle finger up.
It makes me think of the nursery rhyme—sugar and spice and everything nice. It’s easy to put girls into categories like sweet, pretty, and nice, but in my experience, girls are so much more than that. Of course, we can be all those things. But push us, and you’ll find we’re also full of fire and ice and resilience and fierce determination when needed.
I turn at the sound of the door opening behind me and stand when Hudson steps out in a pair of olive-green cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt. There’s a flutter somewhere way lower than my stomach that I ignore, but there’s no denying that Hudson Peters is very fucking hot. In a suit, he screams badass. But dressed like this, he looks so laid-back it almost throws me off guard.
“You ready?”
I slip my phone into my bag and nod. “Yeah. Let’s go have some fun.”
He opens the car door for me and helps me in before walking around to the driver’s side. I fasten my seat belt and place my bag on my lap while I wait.
When he gets in, he puts the top down and slides on a pair of aviators. I cough to clear my throat. Holy fuck.
“You’re in charge of the music,” he reminds me.
“Right. Any requests?”
“Just put on whatever you want.”
I grin evilly and start with some bubblegum pop. But after three songs, I’m ready to rip my ears off, so I switch it to some old-school rap.
He raises an eyebrow. “Tupac? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rap lover.”
“I love music in general, everything from Tupac to Taylor Swift. I don’t see why liking one should stop me from liking the other. Both are lyrical geniuses.”
I lean back and close my eyes as the wind blows across my face, rapping along with the lyrics to Pain.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe for him to ask me a bunch of questions, or maybe question me about Abbot or my past. But he doesn’t. He just drives and sings along to the songs he knows, laughing and smiling with me like we don’t have a care in the world.