Page 69 of Please, Sir

“Jo—Lene, you know that’s not who I am.” I roll my lips together, hesitant to lay down this truth in the event it makes it worse. “I met him months before school started. I didn’t know he was your dad until that night I brought you home. But I met him before, I wanted to… what I have with your dad is completely separate from the relationship I have with you. I care about you, Jolene,” I say, using the very last of my breath before tears cloud my eyes.

Jake, who has intently been eyeing his daughter this whole time, steps toward her and sniffs. “Are you drunk?”

Jo Jo laughs maniacally, like her coming home hungover means nothing because of what she walked in on. “Yes. I got drunk last night with my cheerleading team, you know, the one Miss Rivers coaches.” She looks at me again, so much pain in her eyes, masked by anger. I hate that I put it there. I loved being her safe space. I love this girl. I don’t want to cause this. I hate this so much. “How many other dads are you sleeping with, hmm Miss Rivers?”

“That’s enough!” Jake insists, his tone powerful. She looks between us.

“Fuck you both!” And with that, she flees, slamming her bedroom door before twisting the lock.

Silence consumes us. Jake gathers the toys and puts them in the armoire. I slip into the bathroom, snatching my clothes off the towel rack, ignoring the beautiful pink marks on mybody as I redress. Stepping outside of his bathroom back into his room, I’m already thinking of ways we can talk to her.

Except Jake is dressed too, and his eyes don’t meet mine.

“Jake,” I start, but he looks up and says, “Riley,” letting my name hang between us.

“We can talk to her,” I argue softly.

He strokes his hand through his hair, his broad chest testing the buttons on his plaid shirt as he sighs. “I think you should go. I think I need to talk to her alone.”

It’s his daughter. We’re not a couple. I have no claim to stay here. I only know my heart wants to be here. My heart wants to make it right with Jo Jo, and then make it right between Jo Jo and Jake.

But Jake doesn’t want that.

And neither does Jo Jo.

“Okay,” I say, smiling, nodding, doing whatever passive thing I can do to get past him, through the door, down the hall and onto the porch.

He doesn’t call after me. He doesn’t show up on his steps when I’m in my car. I don’t see him standing in the street from my rearview mirror as I drive away.

I drive home, climb into bed, and spend my entire Sunday crying.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

“How comeyou didn’t text me back?” Peyton whines.

I lift my tank, exposing my belly button ring. “Lost my laptop and cell because of this.”

Peyton touches it and her sister winces. “Did it hurt?”

I lower my top. “It hurt more getting my devices taken away, actually,” I admit, taking a bite of my turkey sandwich. My lunches have been so good all week, and when I pointed that out to Peyton, she said, ‘theyalways are, Jo.’

Dad and I haven’t talked more than a few words all week. After I walked in on him and Miss Rivers doing god only knows what, he came into my room and simply said, “She’s gone, and the only way she comes back is if you’re okay with it. So if and when you’re ready to talk, let me know.”

He’s been sulky and mopey all week, and in the worst way, too. When I’m around, he whistles and listens to the news really loudly on his phone, as if everything were normal. But when I’m floating down the hall and he thinks I’m already in my room, his shoulders slouch. He grips the edge of the counter and stares off into space. And at night, he doesn’t even go into the garage and leatherwork like usual.

I don’t know how long he and Miss Riley were going behind my back. It couldn’t have been that long. I mean, she even said she didn’t know he was my dad until that night she gave me a ride. That was only a few weeks ago.

Whatever.

I take another bite of my sandwich and listen to Peyton talk about the pop quiz in her science class this morning. Before school started, I hung with the cheerleaders near the rally court and drank my coffee. I've started to spend lunch time with Peyton and Cassidy again, and I’m finding the mix of both of my groups of friends really good. Aside from my favorite teacher, coach and confidant screwing my dad behind my back, the rest of life is… finally looking up.

Miss Riley has been purposefullydistant all week. Whatever part of me that wanted her to beg for forgiveness and try to kiss my ass went out the window when I saw her Monday morning.

She looked like absolute shit. Her eyes were so puffy and swollen, I knew she’d been crying all night. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair was wrapped into a messy bun, and when Miss Caine made a shitty comment about her appearance, Miss Rivers didn’t even seem to hear it.

Today at cheer, she hasn’t even given us direct instruction. She actually asked Miss Caine to have us run through the dance until practice’s end, and went outside. I didn’t want to be concerned, I wanted to just say fuck her, but deep down, I miss talking to her. And whether it has anything to do with my dad or not, I don’t want her to feel sad. I’m just… hurt.

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