Текст книги "Be with Me"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Nine

I didn’t think I heard him right at first. I had to have heard something other than what he said, because there was no way Jack was his son. Jack was his brother.

But as I stared at him and took in the paleness of his face and the clarity of his gray eyes, I knew that what he’d spoken was something so rare, so unknown to probably almost anyone, that it was the truth.

I shook my head, dumbfounded. “Jack’s your son?”

Jase held my gaze a moment longer and then focused ahead. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “Shit. I . . . no one knows that, Tess. My parents do. Cam does, but he would never say anything. No one else knows.”

Unsurprised that Cam knew this about Jase, I was still a little shocked that he hadn’t told me. Then again, it had never been my business.

I really didn’t know how to process this as I stared at him. My thoughts raced. Jack and Jase did look an awful lot alike, but so did brothers. Jase was superclose with Jack, seeming to have a two-way bond with the boy, but so did a lot of brothers. Jase seemed to put Jack before a lot of things, but brothers did that.

But they weren’t brothers.

They were father and son.

Holy shit.

Lots of things suddenly made sense. Besides how he acted around Jack, there was our conversation earlier. How he seemed to know firsthand that some of the best things in life weren’t planned. And it probably explained why he no longer played soccer or had any plans of taking a job after college that would force him to move away. He wanted to be here with his son, no matter the status between them. It also explained why he didn’t keep girls around, because he did have a kid, and even if he wasn’t actively raising that child, he could be one day. And that was a lot to dump on a girl. I could get that. I was pretty shell-shocked.

Jase was a dad.

He was most definitely a FILF—a father I’d like to fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh my God, I couldn’t believe I just thought that. But he was a dad.

The air leaked out of me, and then I swallowed hard as he reached over, plucking something—a piece of hay—out of my hair. He twirled it between his fingers as I gawked at him. “Does . . . does he know?”

Jase shook his head. “No. He thinks his grandparents are his parents.”

“Why?” I asked the question before I could rethink how intrusive it was. God, that was rude of me. But I wanted to know. I needed to know how Jase, someone who clearly loved that little boy more than life, was letting someone else raise him.

“It’s a mess,” he answered, leaning back in the seat. He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. “They’ve raised him since birth as their own. Even adopted him. That makes me sound like shit, doesn’t it?” He tilted his head toward me, and pain filled his eyes, causing my chest to clench. “I’m not even raising my own son. My fucking parents are and he doesn’t even know. That makes me so attractive, doesn’t it?”

I blinked rapidly, my mouth hung open, and I had no idea what to say to that.

He laughed harshly as he tipped his head back against the seat. Tension seeped out of his shoulders. “I’m not raising my own kid,” he repeated, and I knew right off that was something he said to himself quite often. “For five years, my parents have raised him. I want to change that, but I can’t take back those years, and how do I change that now? Telling him could fucking destroy his world and I don’t want to do that. It would also break my parents’ hearts, because they think of him as their own.” His eyes closed. “I’m a damn deadbeat dad.”

Jase laughed humorlessly again, and I sat up straighter. “You are not a deadbeat.”

“Oh, come on.” A self-degrading smile appeared. “I just told you I have a kid. I’m almost twenty-two years old and I have a five-year-old that my parents are raising. Do the math, Tess. I was sixteen when he was conceived. Sixteen. Still in high school. Obviously that’s not something to be proud of.”

“Is it something you’re ashamed of?”

His gaze sharpened on me and he seemed to toss around that question. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not ashamed of Jack. I’ll never be. But I am ashamed of the fact that I’m not owning up to my responsibility and being his father.”

I bit down on my lip, wanting to ask so many questions as a truck blew past the entrance road. “So you were sixteen when he was conceived? You were just a kid, right? Just like I was a kid when I was with Jeremy.”

“That’s different.” He closed his eyes. “That doesn’t excuse anything on my end.”

“How many sixteen-year-olds do you know that could be a parent?” I demanded.

“There are many who are.”

“So? That doesn’t mean that every sixteen-year-old is equipped and ready for that. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been. And my parents would’ve helped me out.” I paused, realizing like an idiot that it takes two people to make a baby the last time I checked. “You also weren’t the only person responsible. There had to have been a mom. Where is—?”

“I’m not talking about her,” he said sharply, and I flinched at his tone. “None of this has to do with her at all.”

Whoa. There was definitely some baby mama drama right there.

“And helping isn’t the same thing as adopting.” His eyes opened into thin slits. “When I told my parents what was going on, they were upset, but they wanted me to finish school, go to college, and keep playing soccer. They didn’t want me to give all that up.”

“I don’t blame them,” I said softly. But what about the mother?

“So it was either that or give Jack up for adoption, because I wasn’t ready. As fucked up as this sounds, I didn’t want him at first. I didn’t want anything to do with him; before he was even born or I even laid eyes on him, I gave him up in a way . . .” His voice grew thick and he cleared his throat. It was obvious that whoever the mom was, she was out of the picture the moment Jack was born, and I was dying to know why. “So they filed for adoption and it was granted. Looking back, I realize how fucking selfish I was. I should’ve owned up then, but I didn’t ,and there is nothing I can do to change that right now.”

“But you are a part of his life, Jase. And I can tell that you wish you had done things differently and isn’t that what matters most? That you love him nonetheless?”

Jase tipped his head back again and blew out a breath. “I love him more than life, but it doesn’t excuse the decisions I’ve made.”

Anger smoked its way through me, and I forgot about the mom thing. “You just told me not too long ago that I was too young when I was sixteen—that I couldn’t hold myself responsible for keeping quiet and not telling anyone about Jeremy. My age and general naïveté gives me a pass but not you?”

He opened his mouth.

“Does it? If so, that’s not fair and is seriously subjective in all the wrong ways.” On a roll now, I wasn’t shutting up anytime soon. “You can’t tell me that I need to let go of decisions and actions of the past when you refuse to do the very same!”

Jase drew back against the car seat, throat working as if he searched for the right thing to say but had trouble. “Well, shit. You got me there.”

“Hells yeah, I do.”

His lips tipped up at the corner, but his eyes were somber. “You . . . you don’t need all of this.” He turned thundercloud eyes on me. “You’re young and you have all your life ahead of you.”

I raised my brows. “What the hell does that have anything to do with anything? I care about you, Jase. A lot. Okay? And I want to be with you.” My cheeks burned, but I kept going. “That’s obvious, but you’re making choices and getting things all twisted up in your head without even asking me or seeing how I feel about it.”

“And how do you feel about it, Tess?” The line of his jaw hardened as his eyes flashed a heated gray. “You really want to be with me now? After knowing all that? And you think it’s smart for you and me to get involved? What if we do? And what if you get close to Jack?”

I folded my hands against my chest. “Why wouldn’t you want me to get close to him? I thought you said I’d be—”

“You are planning on leaving, Tess. You aren’t thinking about sticking around. And I’ll be damned if that boy gets hurt just because you want to get laid.”

I jerked back, flinching. Tears crawled up my throat and burned behind my eyes. Was that what he really thought? After all I’d said? After everything he’d said and done for me? That he summed everything up in me wanting to get laid?

Knowing that’s how he really thought of me stung worse than rejection.

“You know something, Jase?” My voice wavered, but I forged on. “The fact you have a kid who is being raised by your parents or that you won’t even breathe the mother’s name isn’t what would push me away or make me think differently of you. It’s the way you act and how you make such fucked-up assumptions that does that.”

Ten

Jase didn’t show up for class on Friday.

Part of me wasn’t surprised as the lecture started on the baroque music period and Jase was a no-show. The ride back to campus yesterday once he pulled out of his driveway had been filled with tense silence.

What I had said to him had been true. Yeah, I was mind blown by the fact that Jack was his kid. That had been the last thing I’d been expecting. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and holy crapola that was true in this case. But I didn’t think of him differently. Not really. Okay. That wasn’t completely true. Of course, I thought of him slightly differently. He was a dad for crying out loud. I didn’t even know any dads close to my age, but it didn’t make me think less of him, and it hadn’t deterred how I felt about him. Granted, a relationship with him would be hard.

It would’ve been hard anyway.

But he had a little boy he might one day tell the truth to, and any girl in Jase’s future would have to be okay with that and be ready. Who knows if I ever would be, but he hadn’t given me the chance.

Like I’d said to him, it was how he viewed me that had hurt. That he believed I would get involved with Jack’s life without being aware of how a sudden departure could affect him.

Every so often, Jase’s eyes had found mine on the drive back and then he’d look away quickly. The only thing he’d said to me was good-bye. That was it.

And that made my heart ache.

Jase hadn’t called, and I refused to be the one to reach out like I did last time, only to be coldly ignored.

Jack’s my son.

As stupid as it might’ve made me, my heart bled for him. In spite of his dickdom when it came to me, he loved that little boy and it was killing him, the choices that he’d made when he was just a kid.

Just like my choices haunted me.

And then there was the issue of the absentee mother that he absolutely refused to speak about. Where was she? Did she still live around here? And did the sharpness in his voice come from a broken heart?

A pang lit up my chest, and I wanted to punch myself. There was no way I could be jealous of a woman who was nameless to me, but there was something there—something big—and I had a feeling that his reluctance to get seriously involved with anyone had more to do with her than it did with Jack.

Did it matter?

He’d said I was a mistake, and although he’d admitted something so big and so honest with me, it didn’t really change how he viewed me. Yeah, I got why he pushed me away, but it didn’t alter the outcome.

I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. Wasn’t like I didn’t know how it was going to end, but the ache in my chest throbbed as I glanced at the empty seat beside me. I’d barely slept last night, and when morning had come, the hurt had settled deep inside me. My feelings and thoughts had all twisted up into a messy ball.

But now?

Now I was pissed.

I hadn’t kissed him—not this time or the first time. It wasn’t me who had reasons to not be in a relationship. It was him, and he was the one who kept making moves, kept going from the kind of kisses that drugged the soul to shoving me away.

I didn’t have a fountain of experience when it came to boys and sex and friends, but I knew enough to know that he’d been hot for me before he’d kissed me. His body had proved that the moment he’d put his arms around me while we fed Lightning. And I did get that lust and feelings were totally different things.

Hell, I fell in and out of lust about three times a week depending on who I saw.

And I understood that just because he had a son didn’t mean he stopped wanting to get it on—and Jase wanted me. But was it more substantial?

It had to be more. He wanted to help me experience something other than dancing and what he said yesterday about what had happened with Cam not being my fault had meant a lot. That meant he had to care, right? Of course he cared somewhat because I was Cam’s sister . . . damnit.

Irritation pricked my skin as I shifted in my seat, clutching the pen until the cap cracked. I stroked the flame until it turned into an orb of anger—anger was better than hurt.

God, what pissed me off even more was that I was sitting in music appreciation for God’s sake and would probably fail my midterm because I had spent the last thirty minutes obsessing over that jackass.

“The baroque period saw the creation of tonality,” said Professor Gibson. “Tonality is a language of music where a specific hierarchical pitch is based on a key center—the tonic triad.”

Huh?

Phasing in halfway through the lecture, I had absolutely no clue what Gibson was talking about and as he continued, so did my confusion.

“The common, most well-known composers of the baroque period are Johann Sebastian Bach . . .”

I was going to Sebastian Bach Jase right in the face.

“You okay?” Calla asked as the lecture grew to a close.

I packed up my notebook and nodded. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

She didn’t say anything as she stood. In history class, she had asked about yesterday and because I had no idea how to put any of what happened into words that didn’t involve several fuck bombs, I’d told her everything had been great.

Despite it being sunny, the chill in the air when we left the arts building made me glad for once that I was wearing jeans. Poor Calla, in her red cotton shorts, looked like she was about to freeze her bum off.

“You know, when Gibson talks about Sebastian Bach, all I can think of is that rock singer in the eighties who was really hot. I doubt the real—”As we rounded the corner, she drew in a deep breath. “Oh boy . . .”

Curious, I followed her gaze as I wrapped my arms around my waist. I squinted. A guy with close-cropped brown hair was heading across the packed parking lot. There was a line of cars heading in and out, and he cut between a Volkswagen and a van. Dressed in nylon dark blue pants and a gray Shepherd shirt that stretched over broad shoulders and a nice chest, he looked like he could’ve stepped out of any welcome-to-college advertisement.

I’d seen him a couple of times around Whitehall. He was hard to miss, with handsome angular features and wide, expressive lips. I glanced at Calla. “Who’s that?”

“You don’t know him?” she asked, tugging on the hem of her shorts. “That’s Brandon Shriver.”

“Brandon Shriver?” I pulled my sunglasses out of my bag and slipped them on. “I like the name.”

“So do I. But I’m surprised you don’t know him. He’s friends with Cam and Jase.”

I forced a grin. Jase. I was currently pretending that guy didn’t exist. Wasn’t working very well.

“He started last semester in the spring, but he’s older than me.” The hollows of her cheeks flushed. Calla was twenty, so I tried to figure out how that worked. She answered before I could ask. “He was deployed overseas for a couple of years. I think he’s an education major, which is strange. He’s too hot to become a teacher.”

“Hey,” I said, elbowing her. “I’m going to be a teacher.”

“But I don’t want to make beautiful babies with you. With him,” she said, and sighed dreamily. “That’s a different story—oh, here he comes.”

And he was. Hopping up on the curb, he crossed the pavilion. No more than a couple of feet from us, he glanced over to where we stood. Right off the bat, I noticed he had bright green eyes, something I hadn’t been close enough to him to see before. That brilliant gaze moved over Calla, then to me before drifting back to the blonde.

Calla gave a short wave as her cheeks bloomed as red as her nail polish. “Hey.”

“Hi.” His voice was nice and deep. He glanced over his shoulder and then cut over to where we stood. “Traffic is a nightmare. I hope you aren’t planning to leave campus anytime soon.”

A second passed, and then Calla shook her head. “Not for the next couple of hours. Are you?”

She knew damn well I wasn’t going anywhere, but I played along. “No. I’m guessing I’m walking over to east campus.” Which already seemed weird after days of hitching a ride. Like the weather, everything changed in a heartbeat. I shook that thought out of my head.

Brandon nodded as he rapped the edge of his notebook off his thigh. “You look familiar,” he said, eyes squinting until only a thin slit of emerald showed. “Do we have classes together?”

If we did, I’d probably be more interested in that class. As the sun passed behind an endless stream of clouds, I popped my sunglasses up on my head, pushing the shorter strands of hair back.

“You know her brother,” Calla supplied.

“I do?” He returned his attention to her.

“Yes.” She angled her face in a way that only her profile—the unscarred cheek—was visible to him. “She’s Cameron Hamilton’s sister.”

“No shit.” His lips formed a genuine smile, and I wondered if there was anywhere in the world where I wouldn’t be recognized as Cam’s sister. “I see it—yeah, the eyes.”

I felt my cheeks heat.

“Anyway, he’s a good guy.” Brandon shifted his weight. “He’s not a part of that one frat, right? The one with Jase Winstead?”

Goddamnit, I seriously could not escape that guy. “No, but he’s good friends with Jase and a couple of them and he goes to a lot of the parties.”

“Like the one this weekend?” he asked. When I nodded, he glanced at an abnormally silent Calla. “Are you going?”

Calla cleared her throat. “Nah, got to work.”

Interest flickered across his otherwise stoic expression. “Where do you work?”

Man, this conversation was about as awkward as two monkeys trying to screw a football. But it was cute, the way Calla kept stealing looks at Brandon. As she answered his question, I looked over and took a startled step back. A way too familiar black-and-gray Jeep pulled around a truck, stopping at the curb. The window rolled down just as my mouth dropped open.

Jase was behind the wheel, a dark blue baseball cap on backward. Tufts of rich brown hair curled out from under the band.

Oh, I had a soft spot for guys in hats.

Apparently I had a soft spot for guys who were dads in hats.

His steel-colored gaze moved from me to Brandon. The dark look that crossed his face caused my chest to drop into my stomach. “Hey, Shriver, what’s up?”

Brandon grinned. “Nothing, man; what are you up to?”

Good question.

“I’m here to pick up Tess.” A tight smile appeared on his face. “You ready?”

What in the holy hell? My brows shot up. He was here to pick me up, after yesterday? After skipping music class? After kissing me and then apologizing for doing so and then dropping the daddy bomb and then insulting me? Did he live in an alternate universe where these things were acceptable?

“Tess?” he called, impatience ringing like a dinner bell in his tone.

Anger sunk its claws into me and I was more than tempted to turn and stalk off, but Brandon and Calla were staring at me with dual curious looks. Although I wanted to shove my middle finger so far in his face, the last thing I was going to do was cause a scene smack-dab in the middle of the quad. Pitching a fit would draw too much attention and the only kind of attention I’d ever been okay with had been when I was onstage. Probably had a lot to do with all the scenes Jeremy had caused in my past.

Squeezing the strap on my bag, I turned to Calla and Brandon. “See you guys later.”

Brandon looked a little surprised as he waved good-bye. Calla grinned like I just said yes to a marriage proposal. Ugh. Skin stretching tight, I crossed the pavilion and yanked open the passenger door and slammed it shut behind me. A pink box rested in his lap and if he handed it over to me, I’d be likely to throw the cupcake in his face.

The hue of his eyes deepened as he watched me buckle myself in. A beat passed and then he said, “Brandon Shriver?”

I pursed my lips as I leaned back against the seat. “I think I’m missing the beginning part of this conversation because I have no idea why you’re saying his name.”

His jaw tightened. “You were talking to him.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “So was Calla. I really don’t even know him.”

Shifting the Jeep into drive, he focused ahead. “Didn’t seem that way to me. You do know he’s older than I am, right? Too old for you—”

My spine straightened as I gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

He blinked once and then narrowed his eyes. “You don’t need to cuss.”

“I’ll fucking cuss if I want to fucking cuss,” I snapped. “Fucker.”

His lips twitched, and my anger swelled. “But seriously, Brandon is . . . well, he’s been through a lot and you don’t need to get up close and personal with that kind of shit.”

“Well, thanks for the advice, Dad.” He shot me a look, and I returned it. “But I didn’t ask for any. And the last time I checked, I can talk to whoever I damn—wait.” The stupid yet necessary muscle in my chest turned over. “Are you jealous?”

“What?” He snorted as he neared the parking lot in front of the dorms. “I’m not jealous or anything. Honestly, emotion has nothing to do with what I’m telling you. Brandon’s a good guy, but—”

“You are fucking unbelievable!” I bounced in my seat, causing my bag to slip out of my lap. “Why are we even talking about Brandon?”

There was a pause. “There was an accident on Route 45 and I was coming from the farm, so there was no way I was going to make it to class,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Here’s the cupcake. It’s got Snickers in it—”

“Fuck the cupcake!” I stared at him and he stared back like I suggested we should kick a baby into a street. My thoughts raced. “What in the hell does that have to do with any of this?”

“I didn’t skip class on purpose. I don’t want you to think that.” Which was exactly what I thought, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that now. He smoothed his hand over his cap, tugging it down farther. “So that’s why I wasn’t there and that’s why I’m here now. And it worked out, because you were waiting for me—”

“I was not waiting for you.”

He glanced at me, lashes lowered. “Then you were talking to Brandon.”

“Oh my God.” I threw my hands up. “This is a stupid conversation and not what we need to be talking about.”

“What do we need to be talking about, Tess?” he asked as he pulled out onto the road, coming to a complete stop. Traffic was backed up from the four-way stop.

“You know exactly what we need to be talking about. Yesterday—”

“Yesterday was yesterday.” He leaned back, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Things got out of hand. It happens.”

My brows flew up. “It happens? Often? Do you just walk around and happen to end up kissing girls? Do you slip and fall on girls’ mouths? If so, that’s got to be an awkward life to live.”

“Well . . .” The quirk to his lips was mischievous and teasing, but I was so not having it. He sighed. “Tess, you’re a beautiful girl and I’m a guy and—”

“Oh, shut up.”

His eyes widened.

“Don’t even finish what will most likely be the lamest sentence in the history of lame sentences. You’re attracted to me.”

“I haven’t said that I wasn’t.” Traffic hadn’t moved an inch, but the muscle in his jaw was ticking like a speedometer.

“And that’s the problem, right? You are attracted to me. You do want me, but you’re going to deny it because of Jack?” Anger had my heart pounding and my mouth running, but the words that were forming deep inside me needed to be said. “Oh, that’s right. It’s because I’m only interested in getting laid.”

He smacked both hands onto the steering wheel. Seething with frustration and about half a million other emotions, I unclicked my seat belt. He stiffened. “Tess—”

“Be quiet. Seriously. This isn’t cool. You don’t kiss me and then apologize. Twice now. That’s insulting. Nor do you get so drunk that you conveniently don’t remember what you say to me.” I bent over, grabbing my backpack. I needed to get away from him before I knocked him upside the head or cried. Both would be equally mortifying and oddly satisfying. “You know I like you. You’ve known that for how long? Hell, you’ve even thrown that in my face. But you wanted to be friends and I get that you’re not a normal dude. You have a kid.”

“I’m not raising him—”

“You’re still a father!” I shouted and when he leaned back, I worked to cool my temper. “Look, I’m trying to be cool with everything. But you can’t kiss me if we’re friends. You can’t say shit when I talk to other guys if we’re friends.”

Jase’s chest rose in a heavy breath. “You’re right.”

A stupid burn encased my throat. His agreement was the wrong thing to say. I don’t know why because it should’ve been right and it would be easier. Jase came with a crap load of baggage, but that burn was working its way up. I reached for the door handle. The thing called pride made it too hard to sit in that car and listen to what he had to say. “See you later.”

“Tess!” He reached for me, but I was already out of the Jeep, in the middle of the congested street. “Come on, don’t do this. We need—”

“We don’t need anything. Peace out.” I slammed the door shut and walked away. The heaviness in my chest threatened to move up my throat and, if it did, it would get messy. And ugly. Like watching-The-Notebook kind of ugly.

But I kept walking, hurrying between the lanes. When I heard him call out my name, I ignored it. The god-awful stone in my stomach weighed me down, but I gathered the shredded tatters of my dignity together.

Jase and his kisses and his horseback riding and his everything could go play in traffic. He was always the one walking away. It was now my turn.