Page 63 of Belong With Me
He doesn’t spare us a second glance, as if us not following his orders isn’t even a possibility.
“That wasbarelythree seconds, Wilson, I told you I’m getting it. But now I remember where I know you from: you’re the dumbass who streaked across the field at my senior football game and delayed us an hour. Andyou’rethe one I’m supposed to be trusting with my car?
No wonder you . . .” Dario’s voice trails off as he ventures through the house, and it doesn’t surprise me that Dario went to school with the mechanic. In a town big enough to not be considered a small town but still small enough that everyone knows everyone’s business, it’s more common than not. Sometimes I wonder why Dario stays here when he clearly hates Florence so much and everyone here still remembers her, but I think that’s why he travels so much—he’s rarely ever around.
“I’m sorry, Siena,” Gia whispers. “I tried. I really did.”
“I know you did, Gia. I’m okay with leaving, I swear.”
Dario’s booming voice comes from the other room.
“Siena, am I still hearing you in my house?! Are you trying to figure out what else of mine you can break or steal?
I told you toget out!”
“I’m leaving!” I shout back. I want to swear at him.
I want to cuss him out and tell him exactly why he’s the shittiest father and human on the face of this planet, but I catch a glimpse of Gia’s face and hold back. I don’t want him to take anything out on her. For some reason, she still wants to have a relationship with him, and I don’t want to ruin her hopes like I did yesterday with Florence.
“I’ll see you Monday at school,” I tell Gia. “Be good.”
Before Dario shouts at me again, because I know he’s gearing up to, I hoist up my duffel and waltz out the front door. It slams shut behind me, heavy and final.
I wait for the relief to come, to fill my stomach and relieve my chest of the oppressive heaviness, but it doesn’t.
Neither does the anger or indignation or hatred. I just feel sad. And lonely.
The rain pelts down outside, and I stand on the covered porch, watching it fall. I really don’t have a plan or anywhere to go, and it intensifies the sad, lonely feeling.
Where can I go? Who can I turn to?
There’s only one person who I would ever turn to for help, who makes me feel safe and free and seen, and though I feel bad dumping my mess right on his front step, he’s the only one I know I can rely on.
I pull out my phone and press his name, and he picks up on the second ring. “Are you all right?”
His voice is an instant relief from the turmoil of emotions flowing through me. “Yeah, I . . . how did you know something was wrong?”
His silence is thoughtful before he says, “Well, didn’t you take the blame for the car?”
My mouth drops open. “How did you—?”
“I know you, Siena, and I’m starting to see a pattern here.”
A warmth spreads through my body at his words, and my stomach flutters. I control the weird elation I feel and announce, “Well, I did take the blame, but then Gia confessed, but Dario didn’t believe it and blamed me anyway.
Apparently, that was the last straw. I’ve been kicked out.”
There’s shuffling on Jason’s end. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Siena. I’ll be there in ten. Are you still at home?”
I take a seat beside my duffel on the porch step, only slightly out of reach of the rain. A slight mist hits my face, but its coolness is refreshing. “Yeah, I’ll be outside, unless Dario comes out here with a broom and chases me off.”
He doesn’t laugh at my poor attempt at a joke. “Stay put. And call me if you go anywhere else. I’ll be there.”
I know he will, and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll be here. And thanks, Jason.”
“Anytime, Siena. Anytime.”
We hang up, and I miss the comfort of his voice immediately. He didn’t even hesitate to come get me; in fact, I think he was already getting up to find his keys before I even finished my sentence. He also knew I’d cover for Gia even thoughIdidn’t even know I’d do that until the very moment the words came out of my mouth,andhe knew I’d face severe consequences from doing it.