Page 18 of Before I Deserved You
“I don’t give a shit about your plans, Jake. My wife just died, and I’m drowning in a mountain of paperwork, so you’ll just have to pull your head out of your ass and step up to the plate. Your mother always babied you, telling me I’m too hard on you. Well, I got news for you, son. She ain’t around no more, so things are about to change. I expect you to be on-site tomorrow right after school, and that’s the end of it. And clean up that fucking mess in the sink.”
My eyes are literally bulging. I’ve never heard Jake’s father speak that way before. He’s always been harsh, and he talks down to Jake a lot, but never with that much venom in his voice.
“You seem to forget that you’re not the only one who’s lost someone,” comes Jake’s surprisingly calm reply. “I can barely get through the day at school, and I’d really appreciate a little more time to process. Besides, I don’t think Anna and Jude should be left without supervision.”
“Your siblings will be fine. I’ve arranged for Mrs. Harris to look after them twice a week, and Mary has agreed to help out, so there’s no excuse for you to laze around the house any longer. A little hard labor won’t kill you. I’d love more time to process myself, but do you hear me cry?”
“No, you just numb yourself with booze,” Jake fires back only seconds before my curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek around the corner. I slap a hand over my mouth to hold back my shocked gasp when Mr. Nelson charges forward. Jake takes a measured step back, not cowering exactly, more like he’s preparing himself. He knew what to expect but understood he could do nothing to stop it. There’s no hint of fear. Not even a glimmer of surprise, just a sad resignation that makes my heart ache for him.
Mr. Nelson shoves a thick forearm across his son’s chest and forcefully walks him backward before roughly slamming his back into the wall. Then he gets right in Jake’s face.
“Remember who you’re talking to, you little shit,” his father spits in a voice that oozes contempt. “You disrespect me like that again, and I promise you, you’ll regret it.” I step forward, making my presence known, and Mr. Nelson’s head whips around. His eyes widen, and he instantly releases Jake, looking like someone caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say in an unsteady voice. “But my parents are expecting me, and I thought it impolite to sneak out without saying goodbye.”
The older man studies me like he’s trying to gauge how much of the unpleasant conversation I may have overheard. I shudder, feeling like a bug under themicroscope. When my expression doesn’t give him much to go by, he gives a single nod.
“It’s dark out, Teresa. Jake will see you home.” He jerks his chin at his son, who looks visibly uncomfortable. Heat colors the tips of his ears as he pushes off the wall and past his father, purposely knocking his shoulder as he goes. Mr. Nelson’s eyes flare, and he glares after Jake like he wouldn’t mind a few more minutes alone with my boyfriend.
“Son,” he calls out, and Jake freezes. Taking a deep inhale, he waits but doesn’t give his father the respect of turning around. “Don’t linger. We’ll continue our little chat when you get back.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” Jake mutters under his breath before he slams through the back door, not bothering to check if I’m following. Mr. Nelson and I are left standing in awkward silence. I force myself to look right at him when I bid him goodnight. Then I turn on my heel and chase after the boy I love.
“You alright?” I ask once I manage to catch up. I attempt to rub his back, but he jerks away like he can’t stand to be touched.
“I’m fine,” he snaps. He’s not meeting my eyes, but at least he’s now slowing down enough for me to keep pace beside him.
“How long has he been like this?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Tessa. Let’s just pretend this never happened. We’ll just meet at your place from now on.”
“Is that why you barely invite us to your house anymore? I never gave it much thought, but it’s pretty clear to me now. Does he always treat you like this?” Jake whips around, almost making me collide with his chest, and stares down at me with flames in his eyes.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it, so could you please just let it the fuck go?”
I rear back, visibly shaken by the intensity of his anger toward me. Jake briefly squeezes his eyes shut and runs a trembling hand through his thick curls.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes. The sincerity in his eyes tells me his regret is genuine. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. You’re concerned; I get it. But it’s really not a big deal. He’s grieving and stressed out, and I said something I shouldn’t have. I can handle it. Please, Tessa,” he pleads in a raw whisper, pressing his forehead to mine. “Can we just drop it? I don’t have it in me to argue with you today.”
It feels wrong to back off. I have to suppress the need to get to the bottom of this so I can at least attempt to fix things for him. But he’s hurting and clearly embarrassed, and I know this isn’t the time to push. He blows out a breath of relief when I give him a nod, agreeing to let it go for now. Still, I can’t help but feel like the worst friend in the world. Have I been so blinded by my desire to make him mine that I completely missed the changes in him? Has his happy-go-lucky persona always just been a front? A distraction from what really goes on behind closed doors. If I know one thing about Jake, it’s that he doesn’t respond well when he feels cornered. If I want to be supportive of whatever it is he’s going through at home, I need to be subtle about it. Forging ahead when he’s not ready to talk will simply cause him to shut down.
I hold out a hand to indicate that I’m ready to move on, and he visibly relaxes before linking his fingers with mine. The remainder of our short walk is spent in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When we arrive at my house, he keeps our goodnight kiss short and sweet.
“Thank you. For not prying,” he says with a soft smile. Then he gently squeezes my hand and leaves me standing on my porch, more confused than ever. I linger, watching his form grow smaller and smaller as he drags his feet down the road like a man on his way to the gallows rather than the home that should be his haven.
Later that night, as I rest my head on the cool pillowcase and watch the sky darken through my bedroom window, I have a hard time falling asleep. My mind goes a mile a minute as I replay the evening’s events. The cold and callous way Mr. Nelson spoke to Jake disturbs me. Can’t he see that his children are hurting? Jake needs a father now more than ever. Someone to be there forhim and assure him that everything is going to be alright. If Mr. Nelson is too self-absorbed—too caught up in his grief—to be that someone, then I’ll just have to step up to the plate. I won’t let him shut me out.
Jake’s never been one to air his dirty laundry in public. He’s not the type to sit around and talk about his feelings. He’s the guy who covers up his discomfort with a joke. Someone who’d rather suffer in silence than risk people feeling sorry for him. He’s proud and stubborn, and God, I love that about him. But if we are going to make this work, things have to change. Now that we’re together, he has to let me in. Allow me to get a glimpse behind the curtain and find the real person behind that tough exterior. Whether he wants to admit it or not, everyone needs someone to lean on now and then. And I intend for that someone to be me.
I see very little of my boyfriend over the next couple of weeks. His father wasn’t joking when he said things were about to change. He has him working pretty much every afternoon, and even though he calls me at the end of each day, he’s usually too tired to do more than take a quick shower and crash.
I use the time at school to observe him, and the more I pay attention to his changes, the more obvious it becomes that something is off. I miss that boisterous laugh that used to echo through the classroom so frequently. That infectious smile that used to come so easily to him.
These days, he seems lost in his own head, rarely takes an active part in our conversations, and often stares off into the distance. He’s present in body, but not in mind, and I’m beginning to seriously worry about him. Those expressive arctic blue eyes that used to be so full of mirth are now tired and dull.Something just isn’t right, and I don’t think his mother’s passing is the only reason for his odd behavior.
Jake isn’t the type to wallow in self-pity. When he gets knocked down, he takes the time he needs to pull himself together and then dusts himself off. Seeing him this defeated just doesn’t sit well with me, but he instantly gets defensive whenever I ask about his home life.
I admit I haven’t had the guts to push, choosing to tiptoe around the issue instead in hopes that things would sort themselves out. However, when he shows up at school sporting a black eye, I simply can’t look the other way anymore.
