10. Do everything right the first time
By the end of the first month, I had fifty rules.
By the end of the first year, I had over two hundred.
Now I’m at... I’ve lost count. Nine hundred something. Maybe more.
I add new ones all the time, especially since Harper started living with us. Whenever something goes wrong, or I mess up, or I think of a new way to be better, I add a rule.
If I just follow enough rules, I can control everything. I can keep Mom safe. I can keep bad things from happening.
That’s what I told myself.
That’s what I still tell myself.
Even though I know—I’ve always known—it’s not really true.
“Shit,” Harper whispers. “That’s a hell of an origin story.”
“Yeah, well.” I swallow hard again but can’t get rid of the lump in my throat. “It was about time I woke up and stopped being an asshole. During the chemo, Mombecame friends with this feminist book club, and they helped her figure out how to sue my biological father for back child support settlement.”
“Oh, right. I do remember you saying she got the money from a settlement. Back child support was enough to buy a club downtown?”
I shrug. “I don’t know everything, but she mentioned once it was in the millions. I realized later he was probably buying off her silence at the same time. God, what a prick.” My jaw flexes again. “Mom must’ve been terrified I was going to turn out likehim.”
“No.” Harper’s voice is firm. “Caleb.You were just a kid.”
I shrug again, but it doesn’t dislodge the weight. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for how long it took me to grow the fuck up.”
Harper squeezes my thigh again. Her hand stays there this time. “We were supposed to have longer to be kids.”
And there’s something in her voice—a forlornness, a terrible shared understanding—that tells me she gets it.
Really gets it.
I want to ask her what cut her childhood short.
But she’s not done yet. “You ever talk to your dad now?”
I shake my head. “He’s tried a couple of times the last few years. Now that I’m almost grown. To check on his investment, no doubt.”
The bitterness is back, coating every word.
Harper exhales noisily. “It sucks that the ones who take off on us leave the biggestscars.”
I tilt my head her direction. Traffic’s picked up, so I can’t look at her properly. “Silas?”
Out of my periphery, I see her shrug, brow furrowed as she stares out the front window. “He was... like, larger than life when I was a kid. My hero. The only one who could take Mom on when she was being, well, Mom. They mostly screamed at each other, and I’m pretty sure she had me to try to keep him when they were both teenagers from shit families, and I dunno. I think Mom thought if she could just make a go of it with a kid of her own, then maybe...”
I steal a quick glance. She’s gazing out the window, biting a nail—something she never does at school. A habit she never lets anyone see. Except me sometimes.
“Maybe she thought it could fix all the broken in her,” I suggest quietly.
Harper’s head whips toward me. She nods. “Yeah. That. Was that your dad’s deal, too?”
I frown at the road.
Shit.