Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Chesney, Age Fourteen
It’s stupid how careful we have to be. We’re a couple of kids; the ridiculous feud between our families shouldn’t have anything to do with us. But like hell am I going to look my father in the eye and tell him I’m friends with his arch nemesis’s son, like we’re in some supervillain movie.
It’s a little after four by the time I trudge up the front steps of my house.
I wanted to hang out with Jasper a little longer, but the downpour that hit us out of nowhere had other plans.
So now, in addition to being soaked and cold, I’m also annoyed, because the first thing I hear when I walk through the front door is “Smith.” It’s spoken like a curse, and I immediately freeze in the entryway.
Does Dad know where I’ve been?
There’s no way. I’ve been more than careful.
But even as I tell myself that, it doesn’t stop the pounding in my chest or the fear prickling at the back of my neck that maybe—possibly—he does know. And maybe he’s known this whole time that I’ve been spending the better part of the last two years sneaking around with Jasper.
No. If that were the case, he would’ve said something a long time ago. My father isn’t the type to keep quiet about things that piss him off, and my friendship with Jasper would definitely piss him off.
Voices drift from the kitchen, belonging to my dad, my grandpa, and two of my uncles.
The usual suspects. I should keep walking.
Should head upstairs and pretend I don’t hear anything.
Instead, for whatever reason, I stay right where I am, my backpack hanging off one shoulder as I listen to a conversation that I have no business being a part of.
“…should’ve never trusted a Smith to begin with,” Uncle Danny mutters.
A round of agreement follows, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
Same tired conversation, different day. At least twice a month, somebody in my family gets all worked up about the feud all over again.
It’s almost like they’re afraid if they stop talking about it, they’ll accidentally forgive somebody.
I gently set my backpack beside the stairs as the conversation continues.
“They got exactly what they deserved,” Dad says.
“Didn’t get enough if you ask me.” That one’s from Gary, my least favorite uncle. Always smells like stale cigarettes and booze, and his face is forever the shade of a tomato.
“Thomas Smith’s just like his father,” Grandpa grunts, and I can just imagine the scowl on his face when he says it.
“Whole damn family is,” Dad adds.
Their words make my stomach twist uncomfortably. I know Thomas Smith. Not very well, but I know enough. I’ve seen him at football games, county fairs, the feed store. He doesn’t seem like the villain everyone in my house insists he is. But then again, neither does Jasper.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, thinking about Jasper and the way we were just skipping rocks down by the water right before the sky opened up and soaked both of us. Somehow, he made it to the creek before I did after school, and he was waiting for me under our tree.
The sight of him had my chest feeling strangely warm.
Lately, everything about Jasper makes my body react weirdly.
It’s like I come alive near him, my heart beating faster and my stomach flipping when we’re close.
I don’t understand it. I think about him more than I should and notice things I probably shouldn’t.
Like how his hair curls slightly at the back of neck when it gets too long.
Or how his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Or how he always gives Lyle the bigger fish when we’re fishing because he knows my little brother gets excited about stupid stuff like that.
I’m constantly telling myself this is normal friend things.
That all friends feel like this. Hopefully.
Lyle is the only person in my family who knows about my friendship with Jasper.
He’s too young to understand the feud, and the only one who wouldn’t judge me for it.
I didn’t plan on telling him about it, but a few months ago, my parents needed me to babysit while they went somewhere, and I already had plans to hang out with Jasper.
I had no choice. Thankfully, he’s kept his mouth shut.
Probably helps that I bribe him with candy.
The kitchen erupts with another round of Smith criticism, and just like that, the warmth in my chest immediately disappears.
God, I’m so tired of this. Before I can stop myself, I walk into the kitchen.
Nobody notices me at first, but that’s not unusual.
Dad’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, Grandpa’s in his usual spot at the counter, and my uncles stand on opposite ends of the small space, like they’re guarding something important.
Per usual, the air feels heavy in here, filled with tension and anger and something much more bitter.
“What actually happened?” I blurt out before my mind has a chance to catch up with my mouth.
Every head turns toward me.
My dad frowns. “What?”
I lean against the doorway, folding my arms over my chest, trying to appear casual and not like I’m about to shit my pants from fear of this going south.
“The feud,” I offer, and I’m met with silence.
That’s never a good sign. “That’s what you’re talking about, right?
Nobody ever explains it, and I wanna know. ”
My grandpa shares a look with my dad, while Uncle Gary mutters something under his breath.
“Chesney,” Dad says carefully, almost patronizingly.
“No.” I shake my head, my heart in my throat. “Seriously. What happened?”
The room goes quiet once more, and I hold my breath without realizing it. It feels like I’ve suddenly stepped into dangerous territory, which, naturally, only makes me more curious.
“It’s talked about all the time.” I continue when nobody says anything. “The Smiths this. The Smiths that. But nobody ever says what they actually did.”
My grandpa’s jaw tightens, and my father looks irritated. Clearly, I’ve asked the wrong question because neither one of them answers. My uncles either. The silence stretches uncomfortably, to the point I’m not sure if anyone’s going to say anything at all.
Finally, Dad clears his throat, then mutters, “It doesn’t matter.”
My eyebrows dip as I look around the room. “What?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Son. Drop it.”
Of course I don’t do that. Apparently, once I open the door to curiosity, I can’t close it. “If it doesn’t matter, then why are we still mad?”
Oh, boy. That was for sure the wrong thing to say.
Uncle Gary whistles and looks away, suddenly finding the wall incredibly fascinating, while Uncle Danny chuckles under his breath like I’ve said something funny. It’s irritating—all of it. Especially the way my father’s gaze hardens as he watches me from across the table.
“Watch your tone, boy.”
My eyes narrow. “My tone? I’m just asking.”
“No, you’re not.” His voice practically rumbles with authority. “You’re questioning and pushing somewhere you have no business being.”
Well, yeah. Of course I’m questioning and pushing. None of this makes sense. Everything I’ve learned about Jasper over the last few years completely contradicts everything my family says about his.
Jasper is kind. He’s funny and loyal and silly.
He’s the best friend I think I’ve ever had…
and nobody even knows. That realization hits me harder than it should.
Nobody knows. Nobody can know. Well, except for Lyle, but he’s the exception to the rule.
Every time I want to tell somebody about the fish we caught, or the trail ride we took, or the stupid argument we had over whether a horse could beat a wolf in a fight, I stop myself.
Our friendship is hidden. Every memory I have with him stays a secret.
Every feeling locked away. Especially the latter.
Not even Lyle knows about those feelings.
They’re weird and confusing, and they always show up at the worst times.
Like when Jasper smiles at me. Or bumps my shoulder with his.
Or rushes to our spot by the creek after school so he can wait for me.
I don’t understand them. At least not entirely.
Or maybe I do, and I’d rather pretend I don’t, because I can’t even imagine what those feelings would cause if anybody found out.
“Just seems stupid, is all.” The words leave me before I can stop them. It’s like my brain and my mouth are on totally different wavelengths today.
Everyone freezes.
Hell, I freeze.
The room is suddenly so quiet you could hear a mouse race across the floor.
My dad slowly lifts his gaze toward me again, anger and surprise etched into his features. “What did you say?” His voice takes on that low, gruff tone he uses when one of us really fucks up. It sends a shiver down my spine, but I don’t let it show. Too late to be timid now.
I shrug. “I said, it seems stupid.”
My grandpa heaves a sigh, shaking his head, and one of my uncles mutters, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath, but I’m too focused on the look on my dad’s face to know which one.
My heart is pounding a mile a minute, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I keep going. “If nobody will even tell me what happened, how am I supposed to care? It doesn’t even seem like our battle to fight anymore.”
Dad’s reaction is immediate. He stands so quickly, the chair scrapes against the floor, and it startles me even though I saw it coming. He’d never hurt me—at least not physically—but I’d be lying if I said he isn’t a little scary when he gets pissed.
“Because it’s about loyalty, Chesney,” he says plainly.
The words hang between us, and it feels like that should clear everything up, but if anything, I’m more confused and frustrated than I was when I walked in here. I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Loyalty to what?”
His eyes narrow. “Your family.”
I have to fight not to roll my eyes. I don’t understand. I really, really don’t.
“But how can I be loyal to something nobody will explain? Blind loyalty seems foolish, does it not?”
He takes a step toward me, and I suck in a sharp breath. “Telling you details doesn’t change anything, Son.”
“Maybe it would,” I say with a sigh. “If I’m expected to loathe an entire family’s existence, I think I deserve to know why.”
“No!” his voice booms, nearly rattling the walls.
“It wouldn’t.” Suddenly, the room feels smaller.
Hotter. Like all the air is disappearing.
Sweat beads across my brow and drips down the back of my neck.
Dad points toward me, his eyes still narrowed into slits.
“Some things are unforgivable,” he grits out through his teeth.
The certainty in his voice bothers me.
Because I know Jasper. Maybe not everything about him, but I know enough to know he isn’t a terrible person. Enough to know he’s been raised with the same manners my parents taught me. The same moral compass. I know enough to know none of this is fair.
“And you’re never gonna let it go?” I ask, wishing I’d stop saying stuff I shouldn’t.
My dad stares at me for a long moment. Everyone does. “No,” he grunts. “Our family will never be friends with that family. Over my dead fucking body.”
There’s not an ounce of doubt in that statement.
Zero hesitation, and zero room for discussion.
He says it like it’s simply a fact. Like it’s the law.
And I guess to my family, it kind of is.
My heart sinks into my stomach, hard enough to take the wind out of me, because I know he means it.
He means every single word, and nothing I say will change that.
Nobody argues or adds to the conversation. This generations-old feud sits between all of us like another family member—old, ugly, and untouchable. I don’t want to be here anymore. I wish I would’ve left it alone and went straight to my room when I got home.
“Fine,” I finally say after a long, tense moment.
Turning to walk out of the kitchen, I get as far as the staircase before my father calls out to me. “Chesney.”
I pause and hold my breath. Not because I want to, but because there’s a tiny part of me that hopes he’ll say something different. Something better. But he doesn’t—of course he doesn’t.
“Remember where your loyalty belongs.”
That’s it.
That’s all he says, and he might as well have slapped me in the face with how much it hurts.
I don’t bother responding because there’s nothing to say.
We’re never going to see eye-to-eye. None of my family will ever see Jasper the way I do.
They’ll never accept our friendship. They’ll never even entertain it just to appease me.
Instead of going up to my room, I blow through the front door and grab my bike instead.
Ten minutes later, I’m racing toward the creek, my eyes wet and my pulse racing, hoping to find the only person who makes sense anymore.
He’s probably not there. He’s probably at home with his normal family, eating dinner around the table, talking about things that have nothing to do with my family.
The sun hangs low along the horizon by the time I reach our spot, and my heart skips a beat when I find Jasper.
He’s here.
He’s waiting.
Jasper smiles the second our eyes meet, and the knot in my chest loosens enough that I can breathe again.
“I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Came back as soon as it stopped raining.” He studies me for a moment. “Are you okay?”
Climbing off my bike, I drop it on the grass. “Family stuff,” I say with a shrug, trying to play it cool.
His nose wrinkles and his eyebrows dip as I plop down beside him. “Bad?”
I think about my dad. About loyalty, and family, and all the reasons we’re supposedly supposed to hate each other. Then I look at Jasper, and all I feel is tired. An exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep.
“Yeah,” I reply honestly.
The smile on his face fades in the blink of an eye, replaced with a frown and concern that wrinkles his forehead.
My friendship with Jasper comes so easily. It’s simple and genuine, and there are no conditions attached. No expectations. Our friendship feels good. Really good.
Whatever happened between our families… Whatever started this nasty feud… I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being because all it’s ever done is force me to hide one of the best things in my life.