Page 4 of When the Stars Rise
“Have you thought about going back to college?” she asks. “You could finish your degree instead of traipsing all around the world.”
She’s really grasping at straws now. I dropped out after my first semester at USC, so no, going back for my degree holds zero appeal.
“‘Traipsing around the world’ is my job. I’m a travel vlogger,” I remind her, choosing the less contentious part of my job title. “And I don’t need a degree to do it.”
My dad scoffs at my mom. “I don’t know why you’re so hung up on a college degree. Like he said, he doesn’t need it when he can make a living taking his shirt off on social media.” His mouth twitches like he’s trying to hold back his laughter.
Hilarious.
My mom shoots him a withering glare before focusing on me again.
“Seriously, Noah. You just got home. We haven’t even had a chance to talk.” She crosses her arms over her chest, hereyes narrowed in accusation. “When exactly are you planning to spend time with your family?”
Her gaze swings to Shiloh as if just remembering that we’re all together and this isn’t a private conversation between mother and son. “I’m sorry,” she tells Shiloh. “I just… I worry about him.”
Shiloh smiles, but it’s sad, and I know it’s because of Hayley. “You don’t have to apologize. I worry about him, too.”
“We all do,” my dad says gruffly.
It’s the one thing that everyone at the table agrees on. Everyone except me.
“Does anyone care what I think?”
My mom huffs and throws her hands into the air. “Of course we do. Why do you think we’re here?” But instead of waiting for me to speak, she forges on. “You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. But if you keep taking risks like you do….” She leaves the sentence hanging but filling in the blanks is easy.
This whole conversation is ridiculous, though. The McCallisters areallrisk-takers.
“Life is short.” I kick off the ground and teeter on the two back legs of my chair. “Why waste it by playing it safe?” I lace my hands behind my head, using my core muscles to maintain my balance.
She sighs and looks to Jude for backup. “What do you think?”
“You know what I think. It’s Noah’s life. He gets to choose how he wants to live it, and he’s old enough to make his own decisions.”
I tip my chin in thanks. I’m twenty-two, but sometimes my mom treats me like I’m still twelve. I get it. She loves me and still thinks of me as her baby, but she spends too much time worrying about me.
Jude gives me a pointed look. “Having said that, I agree with your mom to some extent.”
Turncoat.The two front legs of my chair crash to the ground, and my chest smacks into the edge of the table, knocking the wind out of me.
My mom’s smile is triumphant. Not only because Jude agrees with her but because she’s the one who made me lose my balance. She’s not above playing dirty.
“There’s a difference between taking risks and feeding an addiction. You keep chasing these highs like a junkie who can’t function until you get your next fix,” Jude continues, eyes on me. “And here’s something I’ve learned the hard way. You won’t find what you’re looking for out there. You have to deal with your own shit. And that’s all up here.” He taps his finger against his temple. “You have to do the work, Noah. No other way around it.”
Here we go again. “Appreciate your concern, but I’ve got my shit together.”
“You sure about that?” my dad asks, the concern in his tone genuine.
I love all my parental figures. Every single one of them. But one of the pitfalls of having a close-knit family is that sometimes they get too up in your business.
Correction. Not some of the time.All the fucking time.
I meet my dad’s gaze without wavering. A skill I’ve perfected over the years. If you show any sign of hesitation, it’s game over. “I’m positive.”
“You were in that accident, too,” Jude says as if I need a reminder.
“And you were there when your friend died,” my mom adds.
How many fucking times do we have to talk about this? All I want to do is put it behind me and move on. Why do they insiston dredging up ancient history? “And both times, I walked away unscathed.”
