WAKE (Wattpad edition)

20. A daddy even bigger than me.

{Cary}

He caught the bus home for the last time, the paper driver's licence folded in his jeans pocket. The examiner had been an older woman with a husky smoker's voice that had put him oddly at ease, and he had navigated around local streets and a parking lot without difficulty.

Now, he needed to know if he had a car of his own or not—the Whites needed that car. He pulled out his phone and thumbed in his mom's number, figuring he would rather hear whatever she was going to say on a bus full of strangers who didn't give a shit about his problems, instead of letting her get him alone in his room.

He listened to her phone ringing, trying not to picture her face when she saw his name light up her phone screen. He put his eyes on the ads running above the windows of the bus. Maybe she wouldn't even pick up.

"Beverly speaking." She sounded crisp and together.

Cary made spit in his suddenly dry mouth. "Do you want the car back?" There was a long pause that made him afraid she had hung up. "Mom?"

"It was a gift, Ciaran," she said coldly. "I don't need another car. I don't need the trouble of selling it again. Do what you like with it."

He hung onto the phone and the thread of their conversation with white knuckles. "Do I need to make payments?"

She laughed sharply. "God, Ciaran, of course not. It's paid for. My lawyer will send you the papers. Consider it my parting gift. You finally have what you wanted—freedom to go. So go. Live your life."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she wasn't finished. "Please don't contact us again. Goodbye."

The line went dead.

He slumped in his seat and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He let his eyes run over the tops of the buildings that passed, reminding himself to breathe. He tasted poison in the back of his throat and swallowed, closing his eyes. Another staple had pulled free.

He had a car. He could go anywhere now, until the money for gas ran out. But she was wrong—he didn't want to go and never had, really. He'd run when he simply couldn't take another beating, but he'd always come back. Now there was nothing there to come back to.

///

Mel was setting the table when Cary checked the kitchen. She gave him a smile, the pinched lines in her face telling him she was worried and sad. It resonated with his own sadness, and he made the effort to smile for her in return.

"Got my driver's license." He held it up for her to see.

Her face brightened, and that look made him feel a little less like he was gaping wide open. "You passed your test—good for you, Cary!"

"I talked to my mom—we can keep the car." He wanted to keep this happy moment a little longer. It hadn't escaped his notice that Jon's room was empty, the pillows and blankets stripped off the bed. "It's paid for. So. We have a second car now."

She gave him a smile over her shoulder. "You're full of good news today." She brushed the back of her hand over her face and her smile faded, the lines deepening.

Cary shifted his feet. "Jon?"

She put a hand on the counter like gravity had just got a little heavier. "He's gone to a treatment centre. For 10 days."

Cary frowned.

"It was his choice."

He turned his face down the hall, still frowning. How was Jon going to do without his family? He might think he didn't want them around, but Cary was pretty sure he wouldn't find better people somewhere else.