Page 110 of Jesse's Girl

“Fuck, it feels good to take that off.” Ada balances her helmet on the seat of the bike before dragging her fingers through her own hair. She looks up at the building beside us, then backs up to get a better view, blinking in the dappled sunshine filtering through the trees. “What is this place?”

“The Puget Sound School of Art,” I say with a cautious smile, and join her, admiring the English ivy creeping up the face of the stone. This place must be at least a hundred years old. I have to suppress the urge to slip my arm around Ada’s waist and press a kiss to her temple, reminding myself we’re in public.

She doesn’t say anything.

I turn to her. “Thought you might like to come see it in person. You know, check out your options.”

She still doesn’t speak, keeping her gaze trained on the building. Or maybe through it. She has this glazed look to her—like she’s somewhere else right now.

“Ada?” A nervous churning stirs my stomach. “Listen, I know you’ve been reluctant about college, and I get why.”

She finally cuts her eyes to mine. “Do you?”

Her sharp tone puts me on my back foot. “I just wanted you to see there are programs out there that are still viable options. You don’t need to write off school entirely. Did you even look at that link I sent you?” I’d thought the hands-on program here would work for her—would work with her brain, not against it.

“Why would I?” she asks, frustration simmering in her expression. “I already made up my mind about school, Jess.”

“Come on, can you just hear me out on this one?”

She balks, taking a step back. “No!”

“Just no?”

She huffs out a derisive laugh. “Why can’t anyone fucking listen to me when I say I don’t want this? That school isn’t my thing? God, you’re as bad as my parents with this shit.” She walks around me, heading back to the bike.

I spin around, arms out at my sides. “Oh, come on. Don’t lump me in with them.” The comparison stings a bit, but my disappointment stems more from realizing it’s not an unfair one. “And you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. I just thought?—”

“I already tried that art program in London,” she says, cutting me off. “You know what that got me? A bunch of tension headaches and an ex-boyfriend.”

Shit. I exhale at the reminder.

She meets my gaze. “Can we just go?”

“But I thought… I mean, it’s nice here, don’t you wanna at least?—”

“No. Let’s just go see your sister.” She shoves her helmet back on her head and clips the chin strap.

I sigh, looking at my feet.

Fuck.

I should never have sent that link—never have brought her here. What I was hoping she’d think of as a sweet gesture has fallen epically flat, coming across as tone-deaf and pushy instead of supportive. She’s the opposite of touched—she’s pissed. And she has every right to be.

Slowly nodding, all I can trust myself to say is, “Yeah. Okay.”

25

JESSE

Claire throws her arms around my shoulders, standing on tiptoe and squeezing me with surprising strength. “Glad you could get away. Mom’s doing so much better, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say. “A lot better. Still gets tired pretty easily, but she’s getting there.”

It’s been six weeks since Mom got sick. Being able to trust she’ll be okay while I’m an hour out of town is… huge.

Claire squeezes a bit harder.

“Oof,” I croak out. “You’re gonna have to loosen your Hulk grip before I pass out.”

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