Page 31 of Call It What You Want
“Yup,” he says, guiding the straw to his mouth and sucking—all the while, holding my gaze. He hands it out to me. “We’ve always shared.”
I clench my teeth, my frustration close to boiling over. Of course, he’d turn something as simple as a fountain drink into amethod of control. But I’m thirsty, and I’m not in the mood to argue, so I take the drink and drain half of it before setting it back down—out of his reach.
I can only eat about half my burrito before I’m bursting. Jackson reaches over and grabs the rest, polishing it off in three bites.
Then we’re back in his car, heading out of the parking lot. I assume we’re headed back to Rush House, but then he takes Pacific Coast Highway through Malibu, turning inland toward the hills of Calabasas.
I recognize the winding roads, the massive gates, the perfectly manicured hedges, and excitement flutters in my chest. Then he pulls into a familiar driveway, and I see his mom’s palatial estate, sprawling across the hillside, all glass and stone and money.
He kills the engine, then pushes out a deep breath and glances over at me. “A promise is a promise. But let’s make this quick. If my mom knows I’m here, it won’t be pretty.”
I know he’s always had a difficult relationship with his mother; that was clear even when we were dating. No matter what he did, he was never quite good enough for her. She always had something to nitpick. I always got the feeling she was making him pay for his father’s sins. But I thought they were on okay terms. I mean, as okay as they could be after everything that happened in Missouri…
“If we’re lucky, we can slip around back without being seen,” he continues.
“We?No,” I snap. “I need to go in alone.”
I already see the question in his eyes, and I could rattle off a million different reasons why he can’t come with me, as long as none of them are the truth.
In the end, he looks away and says, “Hurry up.”
Thank God.
Popping out of the car, I walk around the massive house, past the gated pool, to the guest house, where my dad has lived since he followed Jackson’s mom to California. He’s semi-retired now, but she lets him stay, as long as he continues to do odd jobs for her around the estate. I think she just enjoys having someone around.
The front door is unlocked, and when I walk into the house, it smells warm and familiar, like coffee and pancakes. “Hello? Dad?” I move through the entryway and past the living room, where a cartoon is playing on the TV.
When I round the corner into the kitchen, I spot Jameson in his highchair, his face already smeared with something sticky. My heart lurches, and when he sees me, he squeals.
I rush to him, pulling him out of his highchair, and smashing my face into his chubby cheek. He smells like maple syrup. “Hey, did you miss me?” I say, pulling back to look at him. I’ve only been gone three days, and I already feel like he’s forgotten me.
My dad pops out from the kitchen. “Hey, kid,” he says, pulling me into a hug. Jameson is already squirming to go play, so I set him down and watch him amble off into the adjoining living room.
“Where’s Olivia?” I ask, looking around. She lives with Dad, so I expected to see her.
“She’s off at job number two,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Then I think she has a doctor’s appointment or something. Doesn’t matter. It gives Jameson and me some alone time.”
“So, everyone is okay?” I ask, my breath held. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, maybe because disappearing from my life isn’t something I’ve ever done before. I guess part of me is waiting to be reprimanded for it.
“Everyone is fine,” Dad says, like it’s no big deal. “We’re just worried about you. Everything okay?”
I swallow. “Yeah, but, um…I just wanted to tell you that I’ll need to be away for a few more days…”
My dad wipes his hands on his apron. “Is this about that guy you’ve been dating? What’s his name, Charlie?”
“Chase, ” I correct.
Jameson starts to fuss about a toy he can’t pull out of the basket, so my dad wanders over to help him. “Well, whatever his name is. I don’t like him for you.”
Okay, here we go. My dad always has to have an opinion about the guys I date. The only one he’s ever liked was Jackson—but then again, he doesn’t know everything that happened the night his stepfather died, so…
I lift my hands. “What’s wrong with Chase? He’sliterallythe nicest guy I’ve dated.”
He pulls Jameson’s ball free of the other toys and hands it to him. “That’s exactly it,” he says, straightening. “He’stoonice. There’s something off about him.”
I blow out a breath and shake my head. “Whatever, Dad. It’s not about Chase. I just need some time to figure a couple of things out.”
Which is as close to the truth as I can get.
