Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(35)

My fingers pause halfway up the buttons. This is reality, Mia. This is  your real life. Not Arrow saying sweet things to you under the stars or  waking you up with kisses. This. Your dad and alcoholic benders that  make him wax poetic about suicide.

I hurry with the last few buttons as I rush to open the door. "What does he want?"                       
       
           



       

"He's flipping out about talking to you," Nic says.

Since all he's cared about for the last eighteen months was Nic getting out of prison, this surprises me. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Just come home so we can talk him down."

I nod and cast an apologetic glance to the closet where Arrow's hiding. I  hate leaving him like this, but I don't have a choice. Maybe he needs  the reality check, too.

When we get to Nic's car, I hesitate with my hand on the door handle.

"Get in!" my brother calls.

I fold my arms across my chest. "Let me see your eyes."

"I'm clean. For Christ's sake. You know I'm clean. Hell, you're probably the only one who does know."

I can see in his eyes he's telling the truth, and I trust him to be  honest. He knows how I feel about riding with him when he's stoned-or  anyone, for that matter. Not happening.

When we get to Dad's trailer, he's sitting on the edge of the bed,  crying-blubbering, really-a handgun hanging from his fingertips.

Nic and I exchange a look, and he nods. I'm hoping in our silent  communication he's thinking that he'll get the gun while I distract Dad.

"Daddy?" I step closer slowly. The last thing I want to do is startle him.

Dad's head snaps up and his jaw hangs open for a minute as he takes me  in. "My daughter," he says. "My daughter. Tell me it's not true."

"What's not true?" Another step closer. A shallow breath. A silent prayer.

"Frank told me he saw you with the Woodison kid at the Dairy Maid last  night. Tell me it's not true. Tell me they're not going to take you away  from me, too."

"No one's taking me away, Daddy. I'm right here." Another step, and then I jump as the gun hits the ground with a thump.

"They can't have you, too. Not my daughter. It's bad enough that they took Isabella."

Nic grabs the gun off the floor. I try to catch his eye and fail.

"Who took Mom?" I ask. "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"Tell me it's not true," Dad says. "Tell me you aren't letting a Woodison ruin you."

Ruin me. Dear God, do I hate that expression. "No one is ruining me." I  wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him while he cries.

Nic and I work together to calm him down and get him into bed, and when the trailer is quiet, I follow my brother outside.

"What was that about?" I ask.

"He fucking hates Woodison. The dude fired him. You know that." But Nic still won't look me in the eye.

"What aren't you telling me?"

When he meets my eyes, it's with a resigned sigh. "There are things little girls shouldn't have to know about their moms, Mee."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a little girl anymore. Tell me."

Nic pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, taps one out, and  lights it, and I watch his every move. After his first, long drag, he  says, "Mom had an affair with Woodison before she left town. She'd been  fucking him for months, and Dad found out and threatened to kill him."

For a hysterical, panicked moment, I think he means Arrow, and then my brain kicks in. "Uriah Woodison?"

"Yeah." He grunts and shakes his head. "Mom knew she couldn't live with  Dad after that-that he'd make her pay for it every day-so she left."

An iron fist closes around my throat. "Mom and Uriah Woodison? Are you sure?"

Nic nods. "He has a right to hate the fucker."

A car roars into the trailer park. Gravel sprays out as the red Jetta screeches to a stop in front of me and Nic.

When Brogan climbs out, I'm still hung up on what I just learned, and  for a minute I forget what he did last night. In the same moment, I  forget what I did last night.

"Mia!" His eyes are swollen, bloodshot, and his face is pale. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?"

I blink at him, but I can't register anything when my brain keeps  playing my dad's sobs on a loop. "Tell me they're not going to take you  away from me, too."

My mother was having an affair with Arrow's father. I knew my father  hated Uriah Woodison. I knew he wouldn't like the idea of me dating  Arrow. But now that I understand why, I know he'll never be okay with  it.

"You're not talking to me," Brogan says, and I realize I haven't  answered his question. "Okay, I deserve that, but will you hear me out?  Please?"

Nic narrows his gaze on Brogan, then looks to me. "What did he do?" He  steps forward. "Did you hurt my sister? I told you I'd fucking ruin you  if you hurt her."                       
       
           



       

Brogan holds up his hands in surrender and shakes his head. "I was  drunk. I saw the texts on your phone, but it's okay. I can forgive you. I  do. But I need you to forgive me. I'm an idiot and I was jealous and  pissed and I thought he was stealing you away from me."

I don't know what he's talking about, can't think about anything but the bomb Nic just dropped.

"Please," Brogan says. "Talk to me."

"What did he do, Mia?" Nic asks. He takes another step toward Brogan. "Want me to kick his ass?"

"Come at me," Brogan says. "I fucked up, but I love your sister, and if you want to beat the shit out of me for that-"

"Stop," I bite out. "I can't deal with either of you right now." I turn  to Brogan. My sweet, sweet Brogan, and for the first time, what I did  with Arrow last night crashes into me like a thousand shards of glass.  How can I feel so guilty now when those moments with Arrow felt so  right? So destined? "Go home, Brogan. You're not making sense, and it  doesn't matter. I don't have anything to say to you and I don't have any  interest in hearing your excuses." Stopping, I take a breath and  realize I do have one thing to say. "I hope Trish is worth it."

"But-" he begins, but he stops when I hold up my hand.

I turn to Nic. "Take me home. Please."

Nic's jaw is hard and a muscle in his neck twitches. Oh yeah, he'd give  anything to take a swing at Brogan right now. Nic's a fighter. He's  never known how to navigate the world without his fists. But for me,  he'll tamp down that urge and let Brogan go unharmed.

"Get out of here," Nic says.

Brogan shakes his head and tries again, more softly this time. "Let me drive you home, Mia. Please."

"My sister told you to leave," Nic growls.

With one last desperate look at me, Brogan nods and climbs into his car.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" my brother asks, as I climb  into his rusty pickup. I slip into the passenger side and buckle my  seatbelt, and Nic gets in and says, "So?"

"No, Nicholas. I don't want to talk about it. Just take me home."

That muscle twitches in his neck, and his dark knuckles go white around  the steering wheel, but he finally starts the car, and we head toward my  apartment in silence.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way. About Mom. She should have been the one to tell you."

I wince and drop my gaze to my hands folded in my lap. I'm still processing. "Do you think she loved him?"

"Woodison?" Nic barks out a sardonic laugh. "Sure she did. He had her  fooled. But you can guaran-damn-tee that he didn't love her. She was his  maid at that oversized house of his. Keeping the place clean while his  wife was dying. Nothing but an easy piece of ass to him. When Dad found  out and started throwing around threats, Woodison didn't do shit to make  it right."

Outside my window, hawks scavenge the Dumpster behind my apartment, and I  stare at them while my mind flips and flops these mismatched puzzle  pieces and tries to find a story that makes any sense to me at all.

"She was so beautiful," I whisper. "When I was a little girl, I wanted  to grow up and look just like her. She made me believe . . ."

When I don't finish my thought, Nic reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I know, sis. Me too."

"Don't hurt Brogan. He's just . . ." I take a deep breath and exhale  slowly. "He's trying so hard to be who he thinks he's supposed to be  that sometimes he makes stupid mistakes." I hate myself for how much  that explanation undercuts Brogan's betrayal. Then again, he's not the  only guilty party on that count.

Mom was an adulteress. A cheater. Like me.

Sure, we were broken up, but a breakup hours before sleeping with Arrow feels more like a technicality than an out.