by J. Lynn
I raised my brows. “What the hell does that have anything to do with anything? I care about you, Jase. A lot. Okay? And I want to be with you.” My cheeks burned, but I kept going. “That’s obvious, but you’re making choices and getting things all twisted up in your head without even asking me or seeing how I feel about it.”
“And how do you feel about it, Tess?” The line of his jaw hardened as his eyes flashed a heated gray. “You really want to be with me now? After knowing all that? And you think it’s smart for you and me to get involved? What if we do? And what if you get close to Jack?”
I folded my hands against my chest. “Why wouldn’t you want me to get close to him? I thought you said I’d be—”
“You are planning on leaving, Tess. You aren’t thinking about sticking around. And I’ll be damned if that boy gets hurt just because you want to get laid.”
I jerked back, flinching. Tears crawled up my throat and burned behind my eyes. Was that what he really thought? After all I’d said? After everything he’d said and done for me? That he summed everything up in me wanting to get laid?
Knowing that’s how he really thought of me stung worse than rejection.
“You know something, Jase?” My voice wavered, but I forged on. “The fact you have a kid who is being raised by your parents or that you won’t even breathe the mother’s name isn’t what would push me away or make me think differently of you. It’s the way you act and how you make such fucked-up assumptions that does that.”
Ten
Jase didn’t show up for class on Friday.
Part of me wasn’t surprised as the lecture started on the baroque music period and Jase was a no-show. The ride back to campus yesterday once he pulled out of his driveway had been filled with tense silence.
What I had said to him had been true. Yeah, I was mind blown by the fact that Jack was his kid. That had been the last thing I’d been expecting. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and holy crapola that was true in this case. But I didn’t think of him differently. Not really. Okay. That wasn’t completely true. Of course, I thought of him slightly differently. He was a dad for crying out loud. I didn’t even know any dads close to my age, but it didn’t make me think less of him, and it hadn’t deterred how I felt about him. Granted, a relationship with him would be hard.
It would’ve been hard anyway.
But he had a little boy he might one day tell the truth to, and any girl in Jase’s future would have to be okay with that and be ready. Who knows if I ever would be, but he hadn’t given me the chance.
Like I’d said to him, it was how he viewed me that had hurt. That he believed I would get involved with Jack’s life without being aware of how a sudden departure could affect him.
Every so often, Jase’s eyes had found mine on the drive back and then he’d look away quickly. The only thing he’d said to me was good-bye. That was it.
And that made my heart ache.
Jase hadn’t called, and I refused to be the one to reach out like I did last time, only to be coldly ignored.
Jack’s my son.
As stupid as it might’ve made me, my heart bled for him. In spite of his dickdom when it came to me, he loved that little boy and it was killing him, the choices that he’d made when he was just a kid.
Just like my choices haunted me.
And then there was the issue of the absentee mother that he absolutely refused to speak about. Where was she? Did she still live around here? And did the sharpness in his voice come from a broken heart?
A pang lit up my chest, and I wanted to punch myself. There was no way I could be jealous of a woman who was nameless to me, but there was something there—something big—and I had a feeling that his reluctance to get seriously involved with anyone had more to do with her than it did with Jack.
Did it matter?
He’d said I was a mistake, and although he’d admitted something so big and so honest with me, it didn’t really change how he viewed me. Yeah, I got why he pushed me away, but it didn’t alter the outcome.
I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. Wasn’t like I didn’t know how it was going to end, but the ache in my chest throbbed as I glanced at the empty seat beside me. I’d barely slept last night, and when morning had come, the hurt had settled deep inside me. My feelings and thoughts had all twisted up into a messy ball.
But now?
Now I was pissed.
I hadn’t kissed him—not this time or the first time. It wasn’t me who had reasons to not be in a relationship. It was him, and he was the one who kept making moves, kept going from the kind of kisses that drugged the soul to shoving me away.
I didn’t have a fountain of experience when it came to boys and sex and friends, but I knew enough to know that he’d been hot for me before he’d kissed me. His body had proved that the moment he’d put his arms around me while we fed Lightning. And I did get that lust and feelings were totally different things.
Hell, I fell in and out of lust about three times a week depending on who I saw.
And I understood that just because he had a son didn’t mean he stopped wanting to get it on—and Jase wanted me. But was it more substantial?
It had to be more. He wanted to help me experience something other than dancing and what he said yesterday about what had happened with Cam not being my fault had meant a lot. That meant he had to care, right? Of course he cared somewhat because I was Cam’s sister . . . damnit.
Irritation pricked my skin as I shifted in my seat, clutching the pen until the cap cracked. I stroked the flame until it turned into an orb of anger—anger was better than hurt.
God, what pissed me off even more was that I was sitting in music appreciation for God’s sake and would probably fail my midterm because I had spent the last thirty minutes obsessing over that jackass.
“The baroque period saw the creation of tonality,” said Professor Gibson. “Tonality is a language of music where a specific hierarchical pitch is based on a key center—the tonic triad.”
Huh?
Phasing in halfway through the lecture, I had absolutely no clue what Gibson was talking about and as he continued, so did my confusion.
“The common, most well-known composers of the baroque period are Johann Sebastian Bach . . .”
I was going to Sebastian Bach Jase right in the face.
“You okay?” Calla asked as the lecture grew to a close.
I packed up my notebook and nodded. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”
She didn’t say anything as she stood. In history class, she had asked about yesterday and because I had no idea how to put any of what happened into words that didn’t involve several fuck bombs, I’d told her everything had been great.
Despite it being sunny, the chill in the air when we left the arts building made me glad for once that I was wearing jeans. Poor Calla, in her red cotton shorts, looked like she was about to freeze her bum off.
“You know, when Gibson talks about Sebastian Bach, all I can think of is that rock singer in the eighties who was really hot. I doubt the real—”As we rounded the corner, she drew in a deep breath. “Oh boy . . .”
Curious, I followed her gaze as I wrapped my arms around my waist. I squinted. A guy with close-cropped brown hair was heading across the packed parking lot. There was a line of cars heading in and out, and he cut between a Volkswagen and a van. Dressed in nylon dark blue pants and a gray Shepherd shirt that stretched over broad shoulders and a nice chest, he looked like he could’ve stepped out of any welcome-to-college advertisement.
I’d seen him a couple of times around Whitehall. He was hard to miss, with handsome angular features and wide, expressive lips. I glanced at Calla. “Who’s that?”
“You don’t know him?” she asked, tugging on the hem of her shorts. “That’s Brandon Shriver.”
“Brandon Shriver?” I pulled my sunglasses out of my bag and slipped them on. “I like the name.”
“So do I. But I’m surprised you don’t know him. He�
�s friends with Cam and Jase.”
I forced a grin. Jase. I was currently pretending that guy didn’t exist. Wasn’t working very well.
“He started last semester in the spring, but he’s older than me.” The hollows of her cheeks flushed. Calla was twenty, so I tried to figure out how that worked. She answered before I could ask. “He was deployed overseas for a couple of years. I think he’s an education major, which is strange. He’s too hot to become a teacher.”
“Hey,” I said, elbowing her. “I’m going to be a teacher.”
“But I don’t want to make beautiful babies with you. With him,” she said, and sighed dreamily. “That’s a different story—oh, here he comes.”
And he was. Hopping up on the curb, he crossed the pavilion. No more than a couple of feet from us, he glanced over to where we stood. Right off the bat, I noticed he had bright green eyes, something I hadn’t been close enough to him to see before. That brilliant gaze moved over Calla, then to me before drifting back to the blonde.
Calla gave a short wave as her cheeks bloomed as red as her nail polish. “Hey.”
“Hi.” His voice was nice and deep. He glanced over his shoulder and then cut over to where we stood. “Traffic is a nightmare. I hope you aren’t planning to leave campus anytime soon.”
A second passed, and then Calla shook her head. “Not for the next couple of hours. Are you?”
She knew damn well I wasn’t going anywhere, but I played along. “No. I’m guessing I’m walking over to east campus.” Which already seemed weird after days of hitching a ride. Like the weather, everything changed in a heartbeat. I shook that thought out of my head.
Brandon nodded as he rapped the edge of his notebook off his thigh. “You look familiar,” he said, eyes squinting until only a thin slit of emerald showed. “Do we have classes together?”
If we did, I’d probably be more interested in that class. As the sun passed behind an endless stream of clouds, I popped my sunglasses up on my head, pushing the shorter strands of hair back.
“You know her brother,” Calla supplied.
“I do?” He returned his attention to her.
“Yes.” She angled her face in a way that only her profile—the unscarred cheek—was visible to him. “She’s Cameron Hamilton’s sister.”
“No shit.” His lips formed a genuine smile, and I wondered if there was anywhere in the world where I wouldn’t be recognized as Cam’s sister. “I see it—yeah, the eyes.”
I felt my cheeks heat.
“Anyway, he’s a good guy.” Brandon shifted his weight. “He’s not a part of that one frat, right? The one with Jase Winstead?”
Goddamnit, I seriously could not escape that guy. “No, but he’s good friends with Jase and a couple of them and he goes to a lot of the parties.”
“Like the one this weekend?” he asked. When I nodded, he glanced at an abnormally silent Calla. “Are you going?”
Calla cleared her throat. “Nah, got to work.”
Interest flickered across his otherwise stoic expression. “Where do you work?”
Man, this conversation was about as awkward as two monkeys trying to screw a football. But it was cute, the way Calla kept stealing looks at Brandon. As she answered his question, I looked over and took a startled step back. A way too familiar black-and-gray Jeep pulled around a truck, stopping at the curb. The window rolled down just as my mouth dropped open.
Jase was behind the wheel, a dark blue baseball cap on backward. Tufts of rich brown hair curled out from under the band.
Oh, I had a soft spot for guys in hats.
Apparently I had a soft spot for guys who were dads in hats.
His steel-colored gaze moved from me to Brandon. The dark look that crossed his face caused my chest to drop into my stomach. “Hey, Shriver, what’s up?”
Brandon grinned. “Nothing, man; what are you up to?”
Good question.
“I’m here to pick up Tess.” A tight smile appeared on his face. “You ready?”
What in the holy hell? My brows shot up. He was here to pick me up, after yesterday? After skipping music class? After kissing me and then apologizing for doing so and then dropping the daddy bomb and then insulting me? Did he live in an alternate universe where these things were acceptable?
“Tess?” he called, impatience ringing like a dinner bell in his tone.
Anger sunk its claws into me and I was more than tempted to turn and stalk off, but Brandon and Calla were staring at me with dual curious looks. Although I wanted to shove my middle finger so far in his face, the last thing I was going to do was cause a scene smack-dab in the middle of the quad. Pitching a fit would draw too much attention and the only kind of attention I’d ever been okay with had been when I was onstage. Probably had a lot to do with all the scenes Jeremy had caused in my past.
Squeezing the strap on my bag, I turned to Calla and Brandon. “See you guys later.”
Brandon looked a little surprised as he waved good-bye. Calla grinned like I just said yes to a marriage proposal. Ugh. Skin stretching tight, I crossed the pavilion and yanked open the passenger door and slammed it shut behind me. A pink box rested in his lap and if he handed it over to me, I’d be likely to throw the cupcake in his face.
The hue of his eyes deepened as he watched me buckle myself in. A beat passed and then he said, “Brandon Shriver?”
I pursed my lips as I leaned back against the seat. “I think I’m missing the beginning part of this conversation because I have no idea why you’re saying his name.”
His jaw tightened. “You were talking to him.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “So was Calla. I really don’t even know him.”
Shifting the Jeep into drive, he focused ahead. “Didn’t seem that way to me. You do know he’s older than I am, right? Too old for you—”
My spine straightened as I gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious?”
He blinked once and then narrowed his eyes. “You don’t need to cuss.”
“I’ll fucking cuss if I want to fucking cuss,” I snapped. “Fucker.”
His lips twitched, and my anger swelled. “But seriously, Brandon is . . . well, he’s been through a lot and you don’t need to get up close and personal with that kind of shit.”
“Well, thanks for the advice, Dad.” He shot me a look, and I returned it. “But I didn’t ask for any. And the last time I checked, I can talk to whoever I damn—wait.” The stupid yet necessary muscle in my chest turned over. “Are you jealous?”
“What?” He snorted as he neared the parking lot in front of the dorms. “I’m not jealous or anything. Honestly, emotion has nothing to do with what I’m telling you. Brandon’s a good guy, but—”
“You are fucking unbelievable!” I bounced in my seat, causing my bag to slip out of my lap. “Why are we even talking about Brandon?”
There was a pause. “There was an accident on Route 45 and I was coming from the farm, so there was no way I was going to make it to class,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Here’s the cupcake. It’s got Snickers in it—”
“Fuck the cupcake!” I stared at him and he stared back like I suggested we should kick a baby into a street. My thoughts raced. “What in the hell does that have to do with any of this?”
“I didn’t skip class on purpose. I don’t want you to think that.” Which was exactly what I thought, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that now. He smoothed his hand over his cap, tugging it down farther. “So that’s why I wasn’t there and that’s why I’m here now. And it worked out, because you were waiting for me—”
“I was not waiting for you.”
He glanced at me, lashes lowered. “Then you were talking to Brandon.”
“Oh my God.” I threw my hands up. “This is a stupid conversation and not what we need to be talking about.”
“What do we need to be talking about, Tess?” he asked as he pulled out onto the road, coming to a complete stop. Traffic was ba
cked up from the four-way stop.
“You know exactly what we need to be talking about. Yesterday—”
“Yesterday was yesterday.” He leaned back, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Things got out of hand. It happens.”
My brows flew up. “It happens? Often? Do you just walk around and happen to end up kissing girls? Do you slip and fall on girls’ mouths? If so, that’s got to be an awkward life to live.”
“Well . . .” The quirk to his lips was mischievous and teasing, but I was so not having it. He sighed. “Tess, you’re a beautiful girl and I’m a guy and—”
“Oh, shut up.”
His eyes widened.
“Don’t even finish what will most likely be the lamest sentence in the history of lame sentences. You’re attracted to me.”
“I haven’t said that I wasn’t.” Traffic hadn’t moved an inch, but the muscle in his jaw was ticking like a speedometer.
“And that’s the problem, right? You are attracted to me. You do want me, but you’re going to deny it because of Jack?” Anger had my heart pounding and my mouth running, but the words that were forming deep inside me needed to be said. “Oh, that’s right. It’s because I’m only interested in getting laid.”
He smacked both hands onto the steering wheel. Seething with frustration and about half a million other emotions, I unclicked my seat belt. He stiffened. “Tess—”
“Be quiet. Seriously. This isn’t cool. You don’t kiss me and then apologize. Twice now. That’s insulting. Nor do you get so drunk that you conveniently don’t remember what you say to me.” I bent over, grabbing my backpack. I needed to get away from him before I knocked him upside the head or cried. Both would be equally mortifying and oddly satisfying. “You know I like you. You’ve known that for how long? Hell, you’ve even thrown that in my face. But you wanted to be friends and I get that you’re not a normal dude. You have a kid.”
“I’m not raising him—”
“You’re still a father!” I shouted and when he leaned back, I worked to cool my temper. “Look, I’m trying to be cool with everything. But you can’t kiss me if we’re friends. You can’t say shit when I talk to other guys if we’re friends.”
