“This is ridiculous,” Connor says. “You’re eighteen years old and if you want to stay in this house, you need to be respectful of the rules of the house.”
“Connor,” Mom chides. “As you said, she’s eighteen.”
“Then we have a few options here. You can either start paying rent or you can start obeying the rules.”
“Your rules,” I say. “Not the rules of the house, at least not our house, not before you were here.”
His jaw ticks. I take every opportunity to remind him that he’s not my father. Not that he ever pretended to be.
“If you throw one more party in this house, you’ll be moving out of it.”
I swallow at the harsh reality of his words as I look at my mother. She sends me a pleading look. Does that mean she’d choose him over me? Of course she would. If he kicks me out, she’ll just apo
