Jesse - Thirteen Years Ago / Age Fifteen

“Whydon’twestayout for a little while longer,” Tate says with a grimace, knowing it’s unlikely to make a difference. “If we give it another hour, he might be asleep.”

It’s wishful thinking, but… “It’s inevitable. If it’s not tonight, it’ll be tomorrow, and it’s fucking freezing out here. Come on, let’s go.”

We make our way slowly back to the shitty little complex we call home, kicking rocks as we go. I know Tate’s going to blame himself for the beating I’m about to receive, but I also know he’ll tell me to fuck off if I try to make him feel better about it. This is life. We were lumped together in this foster home a year ago, and we both made choices on how we’d survive it. I’ve learned to take the hits, to hide the bruises, and I no longer feel any of it. I’m past the point of caring at this stage.

“Are you meeting up with that girl again?” I ask, to change the subject and get him out of his head. “Or has she already realized what a tool you are?”

Tate laughs before giving me the finger. “We can’t all be pros when it comes to the ladies. But I’m one step ahead ofyou. If Tiffany knows I’m a tool it’s because we’ve at least had a conversation.”

Touché. “Fuck off. I’m waiting for my moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good luck with that.”

The closer we get to home, the quieter we become, as if it will help. And when we reach the door, we fist bump for luck before opening up. If I’m stuck in this life instead of the one I always dreamed of, at least I’m not completely alone.

And really, it could be worse.

Chapter Eleven

Jesse

Thesecondthedoorclicks shut, Pippa and I both have questions, but since mine is more pressing, I ask first.

“What do you know about the photo?” I accuse and watch as the guilt appears on her face.

“Ugh.” She sighs. “If I tell you, do you promise not to get pissed off?”

“Absolutely not. I’m pissed already.”

Pippa laughs, but I fail to see what’s funny. “I guess that’s true,” she says. “In fact, you’re always in some kind of mood, so I just have to hope it doesn’t get worse.”

“Go on.”

“I didn’t plan it, but I didn’t try to stop it.”

“Jesus.” I sign with frustration, running a hand through my hair. I should have known this would happen. “God, I hate this.”

“Jesse?”

“No, shit, I don’t mean you. I mean the goddamn photographers.”Although I don’t love this situation either.

Pippa frowns as her arms cross over her chest. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. But you’re hard to talk to sometimes.”She’s not wrong there.“If I see them again, I’ll tell you, but I’m not sure it will make it any easier.”

I hate that she’s right, but… “I’d rather not know…just…please put a stop to it if it’s career damaging.”

“What would be career damaging?”Fuck. Why did I say that?

“Beating the shit out of Jimmy,” I say with a shrug, thankful I had a reason to distract her with.

Pippa shakes her head and tries to hold back a smile, but it shines through. “I do not condone that violence, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to head off to—”

“Wait! Now that I’ve admitted my truth, what about yours,Robin?”Shit, shit, shit.

Ignoring her use of my nickname, I wave a hand in defeat, because I literally walked right into that question the second I saw Tate. “I hate that nickname, but ask away.”