Because he’s right.
Chapter Nine
Before
“Let me grab the chair for you.” We’re in Sam’s dining room for dinner.
Jason told me to dress up, that he wanted to take me out, but we can’t because he doesn’t want it to get back to his dad. He pushes Jason so hard, and is so worried about a girl getting in the middle of the goals he has for Jason, that he’s a jerk about dating.
So, Jason decided we’d pretend to go out instead. I’m wearing his favorite red dress, happiness dancing around inside me as I wait for him to pull the chair out for me. When he does, I sit down.
“It smells good,” I tell him.
“I cooked.” Jason winks before disappearing into the kitchen. He comes back with a plate of steak, potatoes, and a salad. He sets it in front of me before putting his on the seat next to me and sitting down.
The steak is perfect. Everything he does is. We eat and laugh and he asks me about school. He touches my leg under the table but doesn’t try for any more than that.
We’re finished eating when he says, “I’m staying with Sam tonight, so he said it’s cool if I have some of his wine. Do you want some?”
He pours a glass and then hesitates with the second one. A knot forms in my belly. I want to drink with him. It feels…I don’t know, adult, like we’re married and this could be our house or something. But I still have to drive home.
“No, thanks.”
Jason’s forehead wrinkles. “I wanna have a drink with you. You trust me, don’t you, Red? I won’t let you get hurt. Half a glass and that’s all. You’ll be good by the time you drive home.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I shake my head.
“Sorry. I don’t want to push you. I just thought you’d like it, that tonight could be special.”
He sets the bottle down.
Guilt rumbles around inside me. He tried so hard. Jason wanted this night to be perfect for us. He’s made things better for me and disappointing him sucks. Especially when I know how tough things are with him and his dad. He’s trying so hard to be someone different. It’s one of the things I love about him the most.
“I got ya something.” He kisses me and then walks out of the room, coming back with a bouquet of flowers.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Eh, it’s nothing.”
“To me it is.”
He cups my cheek. “Then I’m glad I did it. Since we’re done eating, wanna go outside with me?”
“Sure.”
We go to the backyard, Jason bringing the bottle with him. I sit on his lap and when he asks me if I want a drink the next time, his forehead doesn’t wrinkle when I say no.
We talk and he makes jokes that I laugh at. I love these moments with Jason—just talking and enjoying each other.
About an hour later, his cell beeps and he frowns when he tells me he has to leave.
“I’m sorry, Red. I’ll make it up to you. I was hoping tonight would be the night.”
My heart speeds up a little, but I fight to calm it. I want to have sex with Jason. I told him we would soon.
“Soon,” I say.
He cups my cheek. “I love you so much. You’re so special, Brynn. I can’t wait to be with you.”
A pleasant ache forms low in my belly. Suddenly, I can’t wait, either. “I love you, too. I want— I want to be with you, too.”
Jason smiles and then he kisses me. After walking me out front, he thanks me for spending the evening with him before I get into my car. Jason stands in the driveway and watches me until I drive away, hopefully wishing we were still together, like I am.
Chapter Ten
Now
My eyes squeeze closed. I can’t believe it was all a lie. How could someone fake that? There were times Jason got angry or times I didn’t get him, but we had those perfect, wonderful moments, too. Those were the ones I loved.
“Smells good.” I jump at Dad’s words. He steps into the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, having already taken off his suit. I didn’t even hear him come in the house.
Just like the kids today stared at me, I can’t stop looking at him, trying to figure him out. Is he going to be pissed about school? Will he finally be able to look at me? Will he call me dolcezza again and hug me, tell me that he wants to kill Jason for hurting me? That he believes me, because even though he’s been by my side, he’s never spoken those words.
“Thanks.” I dish us both plates, words teasing my tongue. Jason called. They should be so easy to speak, but if I do, everything will start again. Dad will freak out and we’ll never be able to get over it. I want to forget.
Once we’re both at the table, he cuts into his meat, takes a bite. Then another, flickering his gaze to me every few seconds but never holding it there long. It’s so strange, seeing my dad so adrift like this. At a loss for words. There’s a difference between someone who doesn’t speak often and someone who doesn’t have a lot to say. He’s always been sort of quiet, but he always knew what to say when it counted. His words always meant something. It’s another thing I feel like I’ve stolen away from him.
“So…I’m assuming you know I didn’t go to my afternoon classes.” I toss a life raft out to him, the way no one did to me.
“Yes, I spoke with the school before you went back. We decided it best if we keep in contact, at least in the beginning. We—”
“You what?” The fork tumbles out of my shaky fingers, clanking against my plate. So he had talked to someone about my doing independent study. Maybe I should feel thankful but somehow, I feel betrayed—like he didn’t even trust me enough to come to me about it before he talked to the school.
“No one knows we’re in contact, Brynn. We just want to make this transition as smooth as possible. Keeping in touch is the best way to do that.”
Transitions. I’m tired of transitions, learning to live without Mom, dealing with betrayal, knowing I had a baby inside me and now it’s gone. “No, you wanted to check on me. What? To make sure I don’t have sex with other boys like I did Jason?”
Dad’s face pales, making me wish I could snatch the words back. Shove them down my throat, like they never came out. Fear singes me. If I push him too far, maybe he really will regret adopting me.
“I…” No other words come out. He’s struck mute again, but he’s looking at me. Really looking at me, except it doesn’t feel good. It makes my gut clench because I see what he’s looking for. Guilt. Trying to look inside me and decide if it’s true. If I did play Jason. If I’m the liar Jason said I was. Or even if I didn’t lie, if I knew. If I thought it cool to be the sixteen-year-old girl sleeping with a twenty-three-year-old.
I hold my breath, hoping that will wrangle in my cry.
“That’s not fair, Brynn.” He rubs a hand over his face, tired…weary. I am, too. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m trying as best I can. I just told the counselors you had a traumatic summer and I want to make sure you transition okay. That’s all.”
And I believe him, because I’m doing the same. We’re both getting pulled under. Both swimming for the surface, only to get caught in a whirlpool and sucked under again. All because I loved Jason. And because even though he doesn’t know if he believes me, I know Dad is trying to support me.
Dad’s eyes pull away from mine, studying his mashed potatoes like they’re one of the crossword puzzles he likes to do.
“I know it’s hard, but no skipping again. If you make the choice to be there, you have to do it all the way.”
I nod my reply and the rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Dad cleans his plate. I push the food around mine until he’s done.
“I’ll wash the dishes.” Dad tries to smile at me when he says it, but he doesn’t quite manage.
“I’m going out to get some work done.”
“Have fun,” he says.
If he’d taken the time to ask, he’d know I haven’t finished a piece since Mom died.
…
Mom wanted me to try everything as a kid. She’d sign me up for the most random classes, telling me it was the only way to find “my thing.”
It’s because of one of her random classes that I found it when I was ten. Pottery. I took to it right away, like my hands were meant to be covered in clay. I wonder if God has a checklist. If there’s a form he fills out, marking bubbles for each new baby to be born. This one will be able to sing, the other run track. Brynn De Luca? She’s meant for pottery.
When I was fourteen, Mom talked Dad into building my pottery room. A girl deserves her own space, she told him. Without space, it’s hard to grow, and Mom knew if she gave me the space, my talent would grow.
Dad would never deny her anything—either of us, really—so I got my room off the back of the house. I have to go outside to get to it and it’s not huge, but it’s big enough. There’s space for all my supplies, cabinets for me to fill with whatever I need. My pottery wheel and even a small kiln.
When I step inside, I flick the light switch next to the door. It looks just how I left it. Two six-foot-tall wooden cabinets against the wall, one on each side of the door. A few older pieces of my work on the counters. A sink and stereo. There are two windows, one above the sink, which is on the back wall, and one on the left side.
But my wheel is still empty, in the middle of the room. My wooden chair with the pillow Mom made for me, sitting on it. There’s a small couch against the wall, where Mom or Dad used to sometimes watch me. It’s been lonely lately, too. And of course, in the corner, my kiln, cold and dusty.
And I can’t do it. Not in this room. How can I do anything here when I sat in that chair, making a vase while she was dying?
I turn and go outside again. Gasping, I suck in a mouthful of the rain-tinged air. I should be over this by now. Why can’t I get over it?
“Enjoying your night?” a voice says from the other side of the fence, separating my yard from the neighbor’s. The house has been empty forever. Apparently, it isn’t anymore.
“Whatever, Peeping Tom.” Shivers skate over me. Talking to spooky neighbor guy, who I can’t see in the dark, definitely isn’t a good idea. I turn to head back into the house.
“I’m crushed. Two times in one day you didn’t remember me. In my defense, I’m not trying to be a creeper. Just wanted to say hi to an old friend.”
I stop, the voice sparking something inside me. Memories that have nothing to do with having run him down this morning. Reaching inside his back door, he turns on the light. The fence is low enough to see his raised porch. Oh my God. I’m shocked into inaction, my mind riding a cloud back in time. To the seventh grade…
Chapter Eleven
Before
“All right, kids! This is the last slow song of the night. Enjoy!” The DJ’s voice echoes through the room, each pulse of his words making my eyes flood with tears. I haven’t danced with a single boy all night. This is my first dance. I’ve dreamed about this day since Mom first told me how she met Dad.
I wasn’t supposed to be miserable. The boy of my dreams was supposed to see me from across the room and come talk to me. It was supposed to be perfect.
Ellie and Diana stand by me at the gym door, like my jailers. If not for them, I’ll run and they know it. The three of us have always been on the same wavelength like that. We can read each other too well.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“It’s just one dance.” Ellie squeezes my arm.
“He’ll come around,” Diana adds.
“You guys rock.” I seriously have the best friends in the world. “Do you want to—”
“Brynn!” A voice cuts off my words.