Bastard (19 page)

He confessed to not wanting to go home because his stepfather had the public holiday off work. It made me feel sad for him. Things must be pretty shitty living with that arsehole. Especially since he makes it quite clear he’s not welcome. I know he’s lost without his car, as well. It’s still going to be another week before the repairs are complete.

Thankfully, the little incident back at the pub isn’t mentioned again. I’m sure I haven’t heard the last of it though, especially from Carter. On our walk back to the car, Meg remembers she has to pick up some photos her mum is having printed. Carter waits for us outside the shop while I go in with her.

I see that they have some T-shirts on display behind the counter, where you can print your own image on them. It gives me an idea. After speaking to the lady who served Meg, she says she can definitely make what I want. Thankfully, I’ve got the perfect image on my phone. After she downloads it onto her computer, she tells me I can pick it up tomorrow. I smile. I can’t wait to see Carter’s reaction when I give it to him.

We drove around for a while before heading back home to swim in the lake. He even came with Lassie and I later that afternoon when we walked Meg home. I still find it hard to be around him after everything we’ve done, but I’m hoping in time it will get easier. I’m glad that we’re somewhat friends at least.

••••

Tuesday morning, I head for my car—my first day of driving myself to school. I didn’t ask Carter yesterday if he’d like a lift. He’s forward enough to ask if he wants one. He has his mum’s car if he doesn’t.

“Morning,
kid,”
he says when I round the corner, almost scaring the life out of me. I wish he’d stop surprising me like that. He’s leaning up against my car looking all smug and sexy. Obviously he’s travelling with me.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask raising an eyebrow at him. He never makes things easy on me, so I intend to do the same.

“I’m just here for my lift,” he replies as one side of his mouth turns up into a cocky smile. It really should be illegal to be that damn good looking.

“What lift? I didn’t offer to take you,” I retort, trying to keep a straight face.

“You don’t need to,” he says all smug. “You owe me.”

“I don’t think so,” I chuckle.

“What about all the lifts I’ve given you?”

“If I remember correctly they were under duress.”

“Duress or not, a lift is a lift,
kid
,” he says as he walks around the passenger side and opens the door.

“Stop calling me kid.”

“As long as I know it annoys you,” he chuckles, “I’m never going to stop.” Remind me again why I put up with him? Grrrr.

As much as I hate to admit it, I like having him around.

••••

After school, I told Carter I needed to swing by town so I could pick up the shirt I ordered. He was cool with that. He waited in the car while I ran inside. I burst out laughing when the lady showed me the finished product.

I’d gotten a large image of Lassie’s face printed on the front of the T-shirt, with ‘My Man Lassie’, in big bold letters. Dumb I know, but I was over him calling Lassie, Larry. He thought the picture he drew me was funny, well ditto to this shirt. My little bit of revenge you could say.

“What did you have to pick up?” he asked when I got back into the car. I tossed the plastic bag on his lap.

“A present for you.”

“You bought me a gift?”

“Yes. Open the bag.” He looked sceptical as he reached in and pulled out the T-shirt. When he held it up and read what it said, he threw his head back and laughed.

“I fucking love it, but she spelt Larry’s name wrong.”

“No she didn’t.” I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. Finally, one for Indi.

Well that’s what I thought until the next morning. He actually met me at the car before school wearing the shirt. I couldn’t believe it. I should’ve known he was up to something by the big-arse grin on his face. My gaze immediately moved to the bottom of the shirt where Lassie’s name was printed. Ugh! He’d crossed it out with a thick black sharpie, and written ‘Larry’ next to it in big capital letters.
Touché, arsehole.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Carter

Over the next few weeks, life seems to get harder. Even though I finally have my car back,
which is a fucking relief
, Indi and I are spending a lot of time together. I’m finding the more I’m with her, the more I don’t want to be without her. It’s so fucked up. It sucks to want someone when you know you can’t have them.

I try my hardest not to show it and continue to give her a hard time whenever I can, but with every passing day I’m finding it harder to resist her. I should’ve just taken her when she offered it up to me, but for once in my life I tried to be the good guy. I put her wellbeing before my own needs.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what we did that night, or that sweet pussy of hers. I want to be buried balls deep inside her.
More. Than. Anything.
Don’t even get me started on that mouth of hers.

Things at home are getting worse as well. I’m not sure how much longer I can continue to bite my tongue around Fuckwit. I think he’s figured out that I won’t fight back because I don’t want to upset my mum. He’s using it to his advantage. He now taunts me every chance he gets.
Fucker.
I need to get the hell out of here before I
ruin
everything.

If I lose my shit with that motherfucker, it will
ruin
things for my mum. As much as I hate
him
, I love seeing her happy. I’ll never understand why, but
he
does that for her.

And then there’s Indi. If I let this thing between us go any further, I’ll
ruin
her as well. I don’t want to cloud her sunshine with my darkness. She’s pure and I’m not. How can something that feels so right be so wrong?
Life can be a real bitch sometimes.

I feel like the walls are closing in on me. Some days it gets so bad, it’s a struggle to even breathe. It’s still a few months before I turn eighteen. In my heart I know I’m not going to last that long. 

••••

On Saturday night I’m sitting at my desk in my bedroom, doing homework, when I see Indi climb out of her bedroom window. Where in the hell does she think she’s going?
Fuck.
Today I’ve avoided her like the plague. I just needed some space to sort through all these unwanted feelings I have for her. Looks like that was a waste of fucking time. I can’t sit here and watch her sneak off to God only knows where. Anything could happen to her.

I watch to see which direction she’s heading before throwing on a shirt. For some reason she’s walking down towards the lake. Although it’s a warm night, she’s got rocks in her fucking head if she intends on going for a swim.

By the time I put my shoes on and jump out of my window, a few minutes have passed. I hope she hasn’t gone too far. I should’ve grabbed a torch. It’s so fucking dark out here. I have a good mind to throw her over my knee and spank her for leaving the house at this time of night on her own. Christ, she makes me fucking crazy sometimes.

I’m mumbling profanities under my breath when she comes into view. She’s sitting on the dock all alone, her feet dangling over the edge. I can only see her silhouette by the aid of the moonlight. It’s casting a silvery glow over the water, illuminating her.

My heart rate picks up as I get closer. I have this love/hate thing going on with the feelings she ignites within me. Although I kind of like it, it’s also foreign and scares the crap out of me. When I’m around her I feel alive. I thought that part of me died a long time ago. I can’t explain how this tiny little spitfire, who annoys me to no end, can make me feel that way, but fuck me she does.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask annoyed when I’m standing a few feet behind her. She doesn’t answer, but I clearly see her hand come up and wipe her eyes. Fucking great, she’s crying. I don’t know how to deal with this shit. I haven’t cried since I was a kid. Why do women have to be so damn emotional?

What I want to do is turn around and walk the fuck away. But I can’t do that to her. Jesus Christ. I know I’m gonna regret asking this. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles. She’s not fucking fine. “Can you just leave me alone?” Even though she just gave me the out I was hoping for, I can’t walk away from her. One: because she wants me to, and the stubborn part of me won’t allow her to tell me what to do. Two: because for some reason, seeing her upset tugs at my heartstrings.
Shit.

I take the few steps that are separating us and sit down beside her. “If you’re fine, why are you crying?” Did I just ask her that? Now I want to punch myself in the mouth for being so stupid. For some reason though, I want to know why she’s upset.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say so.” I know she’s lying but I’m not going to push it. I’m not leaving her though. We sit in silence for a few minutes staring out over the lake. When I see her raise her hand to her face out of the corner of my eye, I know her silent tears are still falling. It hurts me to see her like this.

I move my hand slightly to the left and lace my fingers through hers. She may not want to talk but I find myself hoping that me being here is comforting. “Today is the anniversary of my mum’s death,” she whispers. Fuck. That explains the tears.

“I’m sorry,” is all I say. Lame I know, but I’m not good with shit like this.

“My dad locks himself in his room every year on this day. He drinks a bottle of scotch and cries. I can’t stand it. It tears me up inside. That’s why I’m sitting out here. So I don’t have to hear him.” Christ. I have no words for what she just told me, so instead I squeeze her hand.

Holding her hand and being so close has all my senses on high alert, but I have a feeling tonight she needs a friend more than anything. “I’m sure you both miss her. I’d be lost without my mum,” I confess.

“We do. The only memory I have of her is being sick. My dad tried his best to shelter me from her illness. She was in bed a lot. I remember on her good days my dad would let me lie with her. She’d sing to me sometimes and stroke my hair.” A small smile graces her face when she says that. “It makes me sad that her life was cut so short. She was only twenty-eight when she passed. Mostly I’m sad for my dad. He’s so lost without her. It’s like when she died, his light went out. I know he loves me, but it’s a different love to the one he had for my mum. He does a good job of hiding it most days, but days like today shows just how much her death has affected him. I also hate that she missed seeing me grow up, and before you say anything smart, I’ve grown a lot since I was six.”

“Really? You must’ve been fucking miniscule when you were six then.”

“Ha ha,” she says bumping my shoulder. She walked right into that one.

“Jokes aside,” I chuckle, “it would’ve been tough for him. Losing his wife and having to bring a child up on his own.”

“It was. I’m sure it still is at times. Is your dad still alive?” she asks. Usually that question would get my back up, but tonight it doesn’t. I’ve never talked about this with anyone before, but surprisingly for the first time in my life I want to talk about it. I want to open up to her.

“I have no idea. The day he found out my mum was pregnant with me, he took off.”

“So you’ve never met him?” she asks turning her face to look at me.

“No. It’s only ever been my mum and I. Well it used to be until she married that cocksucker.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers squeezing my hand. “Do you have any other family? Like grandparents?”

“No. My mum’s parents kicked her out when she got pregnant. Apparently she brought shame on the family. She lost everything because of me. She took me back there when I was five. It didn’t go down too well. My grandfather called me a bastard and slammed the door in our face.”

“What? Oh. My. God. That’s awful. I’m sorry that happened to you. Is that why you always refer to yourself as a bastard?” she asks. I can hear the sorrow in her voice as she speaks. I probably shouldn’t have opened up, but I actually feel a kind of relief talking about it. Like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

“It’s the truth. I am a bastard. Nothing can change that.” After all these years I still feel shame when I think about that day and what that word means. She lets go of my hand and reaches up to turn my face towards her. When I see tears welling in her eyes it brings a lump to my throat.

“You’re not a bastard, Carter. Please don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

“I still remember the day I looked up the meaning of bastard in the dictionary.” I exhale when I think back to that day. The motherfucking day I learnt what I really was.
A person born to parents not married to each other.
A person considered to be mean or contemptible. A person, especially one considered to be unfortunate. Irregular, inferior, or of dubious origin.
“I was crushed, but I was just a kid. I guess I’ve learnt to live with it over the years.”

“You’re not a bastard, Carter. Just because you choose to act like one sometimes, it doesn’t mean you are one,” she enforces as another tear falls from her pretty green eyes. Seeing her shed a tear for me makes the lump in my throat grow. She almost sounds like she believes what she’s saying. I want to believe her, just like I wanted to believe my mum all those years ago, but it’s a fact.

“It’s okay,” I tell her as I reach up and wipe her tear away with the pad of my thumb. “As you can see I’ve embraced the fact that I’m a bastard,” I chuckle, but she doesn’t. My words actually make her look sadder. It tears at my fucking heart.

“Lots of people have children before they marry these days. It’s no big deal. It’s stereotyping at its worst. The older generations may have believed that bullshit, but in my opinion they should be ashamed of themselves. Those poor kids never asked to be born, yet they had to suffer that narrow-minded injustice for the rest of their lives. Hypocrites like your grandfather are fucked in the head if you ask me.” Her words make me laugh. “It’s not funny, Carter. Look at what it has done to you. It makes me so mad,” she adds frowning. She looks so fucking adorable when she does that.