Page 260 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“That’s a load of shit. You think I don’t know you haven’t been back to therapy once since you came back after break? And now you’re drunk in the middle of the day?”

He pushes off the fence and grabs his sunglasses, taking his shirt to wipe them off, just to put them back on his head.

I say nothing.

“You have until the end of this school year to make a decision,” he continues. “Rehab program this summer…or…you’re cut off completely.”

That’snotwhat I expected him to say.

“Cut off?”

“No money. No tuition. No frat house. No car. Nothing.” He steps closer. “You willnotembarrass me. You will not embarrass my name.”

I swallow, thinking about everything, about whatever future I have to hold on to, about my brother’s future, about thepossibility of dealing with him for this long just to lose any safety net in life he can provide me.

When I don’t answer, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling and hitting call before raising the phone to his ear.

He looks over at me one last time. “I don’t even want to see your face right now. I’m going home.”

“To the hotel?” I ask absentmindedly.

“To Florida.”

I don’t know if I’m more hurt or relieved by that.

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t even look back at me as he starts to walk away, talking to the person on the other end of the phone.

I take a moment to gather myself before I walk back over to everyone.

I feel so fucking embarrassed and exactly like the piece of shit my dad thinks I am.

I try to put on the nonchalant, easy-going mask when I make my way back to the group. Everyone is still standing together, talking, but when Simone sees me, she immediately sees something’s off.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just grabs my hand.

“Come with me,” she says softly.

She leads me to the parking lot, and we walk silently together until we stop at my car.

“What did he say?” she asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell her, leaning against my driver’s side door.

“You can tell me,” she says gently. “You know I’m always here.”

I can’t tell her. I can’t have her looking at me the same way he does. Having her hate me and be disappointed would completely destroy me.

“I really just can’t, Simone.”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the need eating at me. I just want to go back to the house. I just want to act like this day never happened.

“Mase—”

“Please,” I beg. “Just stop!”

“What is going on with you?” She asks, genuinely concerned and confused by what’s happening and how I’m acting.

I can’t focus, and I need her to just stop right now. Talking is making this all so much worse.