Dirty Dreams novel · Chapter 24 of 24

Chapter 24: August

My mother's talk took four minutes.

She asked if I was happy, and I said yes, and she said that was the only part she needed.

She said the door stayed shut, and nobody lied to anyone in her house again.

Then she made me a sandwich and let me eat it in silence.

By the eighth of August, my room was boxes.

Two hours from my college there were three boys: Dylan at the state school, Brody and Tate at the one in the next town over.

The fourth was eleven hours away, with a bus pass and a plane ticket for Thanksgiving.

Wyatt had told his mother about the scholarship letter the day after the kitchen.

She had cried, and then she had baked him a cake the shape of a football field.

He leaves tomorrow at dawn.

That was why nobody said much at supper.

Dylan's dad had cooked steaks, and all he said was "Eat."

After, Dylan came up the stairs with a phone in his hand.

"Here," he said.

"What is it?"

"My drafts folder."

I scrolled.

There were fourteen birthday messages, each one deleted before it was sent, saved in a corner of his phone.

The last one said: Happy birthday. I hear you through the wall and I can't stop. I'm sorry.

"You kept them," I said.

"I couldn't delete the real one."

I put my forehead on his chest, and he put both arms around me.

"I'm going to text you every day," he said. "Not read. Answer."

"Starting now?"

"Starting tonight."

At eleven, my mother knocked on my door, said "Good night, all of you," in a very steady voice, and went down the hall.

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