MISSY
Maddox sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees; I paced the floor opposite him, chewing on my nail. Faint bruises painted his knuckles now that he washed the blood from his hands.
“I’m sorry…” he mumbled.
I didn’t respond. I had been silent since we got back, wracking my brain trying to puzzle together how that i***t’s words elicited that explosive response. I paused for a moment, looking at Maddox still staring at the ground, then resumed my pacing.
What brought this on? Yea, I could admit Jeremy’s words stung some. We used to be friends when we were back in elementary school, but he distanced himself after my mom died like everyone else. He knew my mom wasn’t a junkie; that was just the favored rumor that was spread after her death.
Getting milk spilled over my h
