Page 50 of Dumbstruck
“I told you,” he says, sounding impatient now. “I had a—”
“Feeling. Right.”
He sighs, like I’m making this way more complicated than I need to. I am, and I should stop interrupting him and let him talk. “You are finally startin’ to understand love, aren’t you?” he says.
I grip my phone tighter, which is probably a bad idea because I’m pretty sure it’s barely clinging to life as it is after I stepped on it today. “That’s…” I swallow and try again. “That’s a bit of a jump.”
“You met someone, didn’t you?”
I don’t think I can pretend otherwise. He would hear right through my lies. “Yeah,” I say on a breath. “Yeah, I did.”
“In Colorado?”
“Yep.”
“She lives there in that small town you’re in?”
“She does.”
He whistles low, which is not reassuring. “What are the chances she’d move to Hollywood with you?”
“This is all very new. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.” That’s not necessarily true, but when June is the one mourning how far away I live, it doesn’t inspire confidence in her willingness to join me in California. “I don’t see her living in Los Angeles,” I mutter.
Dad hums. “What if you—”
“Even if I got a place out here, it’s not like I could spend a lot of time here. My filming schedule is—”
“More in your control than you pretend,” he says sharply, cutting me off just like I did to him. “The only reason you’re so busy is because you choose to be.”
I sigh. “Because I have to be! I have to take every job I can get so I don’t—”
“John.” Hearing my actual name reminds me that this man has seen me through some of my best and worst. He knew John before Jonah became famous. “I know you’ve been payin’ for repairs around here, no matter how much you and your brothers try to be sneaky. You don’t need to be givin’ everything you have to other people. Your mother and I have always had plenty of our own money for that sort of thing.”
But that doesn’t make any sense. My entire life, my parents have done everything themselves. They practically defined frugal living.
As if reading my thoughts, Dad chuckles. “We’re also both incredibly stubborn. If we can fix something ourselves, why pay someone else to do it?”
“Because you’re ancient,” I grumble. While I’m glad to know my parents aren’t hurting for money, I can’t help but think back on the many things I never had growing up because—I assumed—we couldn’t afford it. “Did you not buy us anything because you wanted us to learn the value of money?” I ask warily.
Dad laughs. “Of course.”
“Great.”
“But I’m not here to talk about money, which you have more than enough of. I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t follow in my footsteps when it comes to love.”
I choke on my own breath, completely caught off guard by this change in subject. “What is that supposed to mean? You and Mom are perfect together!”
“And it took us three years to accept that truth.”
“What?” It’s not often I regret leaving home only days after my high school graduation, but apparently I wasn’t around long enough to get the full story of my parents’ romance. “I thought you and Mom met at that rodeo and it was love at first sight.”
“It was. Well no, it wasattractionat first sight, but that’s not the same thing. And while we talked and flirted and went skinny-dippin’ behind the Masons’ place, we didn’t—”
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, “when you didwhat?”
“We didn’t let ourselves fall in love,” he continues, ignoring my horrified question. “She was goin’ back to school in the fall, and I couldn’t leave my father to run the farm on his own. So we kept things casual.”
“I wouldn’t call swimming naked in a pond casual,” I grumble, shuddering because that was not something I needed to know about my parents.
