“Ssshh, sweetie, it’s okay.”
I shook my head, unable to see her through the tears. “It’s not. It’s not. I tried to help and then he was gone and … and,” I took a shuddering breath, “I kept thinking ‘I’m so glad it wasn’t Jake.’”
I jolted a little at the feel of my dad’s strong arm encircling my shoulders, pulling me back against him. His lips brushed my forehead and I sagged against him, crying harder than I ever remember crying.
Staring at the tributes placed at the foot of Brett’s locker, I barely heard the bell ring. Shell-shocked students pushed past as they hurried to get to class while I remained frozen on the spot.
Brett’s funeral was to be held on Thursday.
I shook myself, looking around as the halls started to empty. Since stepping foot on school grounds that morning, I’d felt alone. I saw that Lacey’s eyes were red from crying, but not once did they settle on me. She was ashamed. Probably feeling guilty for her part in it. If we’d been friends, I would’ve told her to learn from it, to not let it eat at her, to let it help her grow the heck up. But we weren’t friends. Her boyfriend was dead. All it would’ve taken was a small twist of chance and it might’ve been Jake everyone was grieving for.
I couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Jake wasn’t in school; neither was Lukas. They were probably waiting for the flames to die down.
When I walked into school, to my surprise it was a quiet Alex who kept me company. From him I’d discovered that Trenton Thomas had been arrested for disturbing the peace outside of Jake’s house last night. Luckily that cruiser had been sitting there and they took him in before he could do much damage. As soon as Alex told me, I sent a text to Jake asking if he was okay.
It was past lunchtime now and still I’d heard nothing back.
Alex and I had sat in the cafeteria by ourselves, not talking but keeping each other company nonetheless. There was no Alex now. He wasn’t in my next class or the one after.
Screw this, I thought.
My feet took me out of the school, out the gates, through town, and forty-five minutes later, I was at Jake’s.
The sight of Mrs. C. on her knees, yellow rubber gloves on, scrubbing at the porch, made me slow to a halt, annoyance and frustration ripping through me. My eyes washed over the porch, catching sight of dried yoke and eggshells.
Mrs. C. glanced up at me, her eyes tired. “Why aren’t you in school, Charley?”
I shrugged and then gestured to their house. “You okay?”
“It’s the second time it’s happened since we moved here.” She sat back on her heels, her mouth tight.
“There are a couple of idiots in this town, Mrs. C. You just have to ignore them.” I knew that was easy for me to say. My house hadn’t just gotten egged. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “Not with this.”
“With Jake, then?”
Mrs. C. ripped off her rubber glove and ran a shaky hand through her dark hair. “He says he doesn’t want to see anyone, but frankly, I’m just so past the point of worried right now … I think you should go up. See if you can get him to talk.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
The music throbbing from his room meant that he probably didn’t hear me climb the stairs or cross the hallway. When I pushed his door open, my gaze zeroed in on him lying on his bed, his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, listening to some screaming band he’d never shared with me.
Thank God, because they sucked.
He lowered his gaze and the breath was knocked out of me at the emptiness in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he told me flatly, returning his focus to the ceiling.
I’d never encountered this Jake. If we were mad at each other, we were loud about it. This emotionless robot scared the crap out of me.
But for him, I’d be brave.
As I shrugged out of my jacket, I kicked off my shoes. Quietly I crossed the room and lay down beside him, careful not to touch him. My own eyes met the ceiling.
“You don’t have to talk,” I promised him. And he didn’t. All I wanted was to remind him that he wasn’t alone. That he had me if he needed me.
My hope was that eventually he might say something, but I met my match in Jacob Caplin because he kept his mouth zipped for two and a half hours, replaying the screaming band until my ears almost started bleeding. Finally my mom called and I had to admit defeat for the day and go home.
“I have to go.” I leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. I held my sigh in and got up. “When you’re ready, I’m here. I love you, Jake.”
For the first time … he didn’t say it back.
O’Hare was filled with that high-level hum of conversation, just a mishmash of chatter that if you let it in it could make your head throb. Melissa was the last to grab her suitcase but finally it circled around on the baggage carousel and I could feel the guys breathe a deep sigh of relief with me. We’d just flown from Edinburgh to London, London to Chicago, and all together our traveling time (including waiting around at Heathrow for our flight) was around twelve hours. Jake, Melissa, Beck, Lowe, Matt, and I were exhausted and there was nothing more irritating than a baggage carousel when you were exhausted.
Now we were moving through the airport toward the pickup point where I knew my dad was waiting for me. He was supposed to be waiting for both me and Claudia, but a week before our flight home for Christmas vacation, she got a phone call from her mom, Rafaela, to tell her they were hosting a huge Christmas party this year and she’d need Claudia to stay out of the way of preparations when she got home. It had never occurred to Rafaela Jenkins that her daughter didn’t actually spend lonely Christmases at home, so when she discovered Claud wasn’t going to be there, she got pissed and started speaking in rapid-fire Portuguese (which Claudia didn’t understand since her mother had never taken the time to teach her).
In the end, she demanded—in English—that Claudia be there.
Claudia was mad that she wasn’t going to be spending her Christmas vacation with the Redfords and I have to say, I was disappointed too. The two of us were so used to being in each other’s space all the time, it was kind of like missing an arm when she wasn’t there. However, underneath it all, I think my best friend was secretly pleased that her mother was adamant she be home. It meant she was actually taking notice of her.
“I had to hit a whole other continent for her to notice me, but whatever,” Claudia said, smirking.
Although I’d miss Claud for the next three and a half weeks, I was looking forward to some distance from the Jake-and-Melissa show. Because of them, my head was in a weird, messy place and I knew my family would recognize it right away. This pretty much blew since I didn’t want anything marring our reunion.
The six of us strolled outside bundled up in jackets and scarves. I smiled as the cold wind hit my face. It was pretty mild, actually, for December in Chicago. No snow yet. It was warmer here than what we’d left behind in Scotland. The guys were talking about meeting up to do a gig the day before Christmas Eve, but I was too busy bobbing my head, trying to see past people to find my dad. I had no clue what they were saying beyond that.
And then I saw him and my face split into a huge grin.
Leaning against the hood of his SUV, my dad watched the crowds with focus. My dad was in his mid-forties and as my mom often noted in a dreamy voice that cracked me up, he was the kind of man who only grew more handsome with age. He had little sprinklings of gray in the sides of his dark brown hair, hair I often bemoaned that I didn’t inherit. Andie got his hair and his eyes. I got his eyes, but Mom’s hair. I didn’t know why the genetics god couldn’t have gone all out and given me my mom’s gorgeous pale blue eyes as well.
Damn you, genetics god, damn you.
Seeing Jim Redford waiting for me filled my chest with warmth. He never went to college, and neither did Mom, but they worked it out and di
d well for themselves in our small town. I was proud of my parents. I was proud to walk through a crowd of people at an airport knowing that the handsome middle-aged man leaning against the hood of his SUV was my dad and that he loved me.
It hadn’t taken Thanksgiving with my new friends, listening to them talk about their mixed backgrounds, for me to realize how lucky I was to have been raised by Jim and Delia Redford. No. All it had taken was a glimpse into Claudia’s world, growing up in Coronado with parents who lived on inherited wealth and spent their lives dashing around the world and ignoring their only child, for me to realize what I had at home.
Pretty freaking great parents.
My dad’s eyes came to a rest on me and he beamed huge when he saw me, standing up off his car. I waved as he started toward me.
“That’s me, guys. I’ll see you back in Edinburgh.”
Lowe pulled me into a hug, and I ended up getting my ribs squeezed by him, Beck, and Matt. Jake and Melissa received an awkward wave instead of a hug.
When I turned around, Dad was right there. “Dad,” I said. I threw my arms around him, something I hadn’t done in a long while. He lifted me off the ground in a bear hug.
“Hey, Supergirl,” he murmured softly as he gently set me down.
Thickness suddenly developed in my throat and I swallowed it, surprised by the emotion. I don’t know why I bothered. It was a perfectly acceptable reaction considering I’d been gone for three months, the longest time I’d ever been separated from my parents.
My dad glanced over my shoulder and I turned to see he was looking curiously at Lowe. “Dad, these are my friends. They go to Northwestern. This is Lowe.”
“Hey, Mr. Redford,” Lowe greeted congenially and held out a hand.
My dad smiled and gave him a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
I introduced Beck and Matt who shook my dad’s hand with respectful hellos.
The friendly, warm atmosphere plummeted to below freezing when Dad turned to greet the next person in line. His whole body tensed with recognition.
“Uh, you remember Jake, Dad. And this is his girlfriend, Melissa.”
Dad actually flinched at the introduction, his eyes narrowed on Jake, moving from him to Melissa before slicing back to me with a look so incredulous, he didn’t even have to say “are you nuts?”
“Mr. Redford.” Jake stepped forward and held out a hand. A peace offering. An olive branch.
The look my dad bestowed upon him could’ve shriveled even the biggest badass’s smile. With a grunt of disgust he spun around, grabbed my suitcase, and started to walk away. “Let’s go, Charley.”
Awkward.
I didn’t know where to look.
“Dude,” Matt laughed quietly, “I thought he was going to smack you.”
“I was kind of hoping he would,” Lowe muttered. Shooting Lowe a look that clearly told him to put a sock in it, I was merely rewarded with a smile. “Your dad rocks.”
However, my choked laughter quickly vanished when my eyes met Jake’s. He looked ashamed, and, worse, lost. There wasn’t anything funny about that. Dad’s attitude had told Jake one thing I hadn’t told him—just how badly his leaving had affected me. So badly that Jim Redford, a man who had eventually welcomed Jake into his home and treated him like a son, could barely stand the sight of him.
“Charlotte!”
Exhaling through the sudden tightness in my chest, I gave my friends a wave. “Bye, guys. Have a great Christmas.”
“You too, babe,” Lowe stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. When I lifted my eyes to smile at him, he winked, making me feel not so lost. Grateful, I squeezed his hand and then spun around quickly, darting through the crowd toward my dad and away from Jake.
There was no snow to drive through and Dad said he’d made the trip in just under two hours. Two hours in the car with a dad you hadn’t seen in three months should’ve been a breeze. We had lots to catch up on, but after the Jake encounter, Dad was quiet. Tense and quiet.
“How’s Mom?” I finally asked, fed up with the silence. I was tired enough I could close my eyes and go to sleep, but I’d just gotten home. I wanted to chat with my dad.
Dad’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “I can’t believe he had the audacity to offer me his hand.”
I sighed. Really, this shouldn’t surprise me. Dad was a stewer—he stewed until he was ready to vent. It had taken him twenty minutes of stewing to get to the venting part. Damn. I really should’ve closed my eyes. “Dad—”
“I didn’t agree with him being back in your life but your mom told me to leave it, that you were a grown-up and could make your own decisions … but to see him standing there, and with his arms around another girl right in front of you.”
“Dad—”
“No, Charley.” He shook his head, his brow wrinkled with deep furrows. “I’m a realist, okay. Most sixteen-year-olds aren’t going to end up with the person they’re dating in high school. That’s reality. Most of it is puppy love or temporary love or just plain old lust. But I watched you two together and I thought, well, they’re just like me and Delia.”
He’d never admitted that to me before.
Pain cut through me and I looked out the passenger window, trying to control the emotion.
“I was like Jake in high school. Ask your mom. I had a bit of a rep for fooling around with a lot of girls and yeah, I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth. Then I came home after one summer at my grandma’s in Virginia and I walked into class and there was Delia. Sitting on her desk, feet on her chair, laughing her ass off at something her girlfriend was saying. As I approached she turned her head to smile at me, and I swear to God, that smile … it knocked me on my ass. I don’t know why I never noticed her before, but there she was and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was a goner.” He sighed. “First time I saw Jake smile at you, I thought, hell, here we go again. And because of that I saw myself in him and I began to trust him with you. And I’m not stupid. I know he took everything from you—”
“Oh, God, Dad …” I groaned, mortified.
“—but I thought to myself, these kids are forever. I let myself care about that son of a bitch. I was cut up for him over what happened to Brett. Then he broke my little girl. Stomped all over what she gave him. Now he’s back offering me his hand as he willfully messes with your head. Flaunting another girl in front of you. I ought to swing this car around and kill him.”
Somehow I managed to keep calm as I looked back at him. “Dad, I have to move past it.”
“Move past it …” He glanced at me, still furious. “He wasn’t there. He didn’t watch his little girl—the strongest, bravest kid I’ve ever met—cry for days when he left and then just go numb. I remember it was months before I heard you laugh again. And even then, we never got you back the way you were. With what happened to Brett and then Jake taking away so much, you grew this look, this cynical little look in your eye no kid your age should have.”
I shuddered, wrapping my arms around my stomach. “Dad, don’t.”
“I’m saying this now and then we’re done talking about it.” He shot me a hard look. “Letting this boy back in your life is a mistake. Fix it before he breaks you again.”
Every year a six-foot Christmas tree took pride of place in front of the sitting room window. Pale white lights glittered over every branch. Metallic strings of red and silver wove from branch to branch like scalloped lace. You could tell which gifts Mom had wrapped because they matched the tree. And even though we were twenty and twenty-four years old, stockings hung from the mantel for Andie and me. To my delight, this year a third stocking hung in the middle with Rick’s name on it.
I had to admit it I almost peed my pants laughing upon discovering my mom had sewn his name on and hung a stocking for a thirty-four-year-old police detective.
Apparently Rick had graciously thanked her, his mouth twitching with laughter. Andie had had to leave the room so sh
e wouldn’t embarrass Mom by collapsing into a fit of giggles.
I wasn’t nearly as considerate.
Mom didn’t even flinch. She just couldn’t see what was wrong with mothering a man who was only ten years her junior.
“So did you try haggis?” Rick asked, sipping at his hot cocoa. Mom had made cocoa for all us of and we were snuggled up warm in the sitting room. It was Christmas Eve, the fire roaring, the light darkening in the early afternoon sky. The five of us were relaxing and just enjoying being together. Rick was raised by his single mother—he’d never met his father—but she passed five years ago. He’d gotten a Christmas vacation this year and was spending the whole time with Andie and us. We wouldn’t have it any other way.
I was lying with my back pressed against the bottom of Dad’s armchair, my legs stretched out alongside the fire. I sipped my cocoa and nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as you’d think, but it’s hard to fully enjoy something when you know it’s encased inside sheep stomach.”
Andie made a gagging noise. “I can’t believe you tried it.” She frowned. “No, wait, scratch that. It’s you. Of course you tried it.”
“I also tried a deep-fried Mars bar. I’m ashamed to admit I tried it a couple of times.”
“That’s revolting,” Mom huffed. “You told me you were eating well.”
“At least I’m eating.”
That garnered a grunt.
“I hope you aren’t drinking too much with you being legal over there?” Dad asked, pulling gently on my ponytail.
I craned my neck to grin up at him. “Would I overimbibe just because of a legality?”
“Yes.”
Laughing, I turned back around, my expression mischievous as I shared a look with Andie. “I’ve hardly touched a drop, Dad.”
“Don’t lie to your father, Charlotte, it’s beneath you,” Mom teased.
“Then don’t ask questions you’re not going to like the answer to.”
“She’s got you there, folks,” Rick murmured, smiling into his mug.
Into the Deep Page 18
