Chapter 25 Shane #2
“No,” she says gently. “I didn’t suspect anything before you told me.”
“Oh, okay. But you’re not shocked about Jace?”
“Not really. You’ve always been a very…companionable person.”
“Companionable?”
“Like how easily you make friends and how well you get along with pretty much everyone. This rivalry or feud or whatever it is you’ve had with Jace is unusual for you, and the fact that it’s gone on for so long made me think that maybe there was more between you and the fighting and arguments were a way to express what you were feeling, even if you didn’t fully understand why you were feeling it. ”
“Really?”
“Really,” she says gently. “You can’t have that kind of hatred or strong dislike for someone if you don’t care about them on some level. Hear me out,” she says before I can interrupt and tell her I don’t care about Jace. Or at least I didn’t until recently.
“It’s completely normal to have people in your life that you dislike,” she continues. “And there will always be people out there that you clash with. But those people come and go, and for the most part, they don’t matter. Right?”
“Right,” I drawl.
“But then there are people where the dislike is so strong it bonds you to them,” she says.
“Hating someone means that you have deep feelings for them. They might be negative feelings, but they’re there.
And that also means that those feelings can evolve and change over time and shift from a deep dislike to a different kind of connection. ”
“Maybe,” I concede. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, but I don’t think that applies here. I hated Jace because he’s an antagonistic asshole who’s spent the last two and a half years going out of his way to piss me off. That’s a little different from what you just described.”
“It is,” she says quickly. “And you’re the only person who knows for sure what you’re feeling and what’s going on. What I’m trying to say is, don’t close the door on things because you think they should look or feel a certain way. Does that make sense?”
“It does.”
“Do you feel at all better?”
“Sort of? I’m still confused AF, but I’m glad I told you.”
“I am too.” She pauses for a few beats. “What do you want to do about telling your father?”
“I’m not sure. Would it be awful if I asked you to tell him?” I ask. “I know it’s something he should probably hear from me, but I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“You could never disappoint him.”
I resist the urge to remind her that I’m constantly disappointing him because I’m not my brother and can’t live up to the image of him that Dad has in his head, but I know better.
The last thing I need is to send her into a spiral by bringing up KJ, and she’ll just defend Dad and say that he only wants the best for me.
That’s a conversation neither of us needs right now.
“Maybe not, but you can’t say this doesn’t go against his big plan for me,” I say instead.
“You’re not wrong. But your dad loves you, and he just wants the best for you. If that leads to you having a male partner instead of a female one, or even no partner at all, then he’s just going to have to accept it.”
“And you think he’ll accept it if I tell him who I’m into?”
As far as I know, there isn’t any bad blood between Jace’s family and mine.
Our families have done some business together over the years, but there’s a lot about the inner workings of the company I’m eventually going to be taking over that I’ve been kept in the dark about.
And there are a fuck ton of rumors floating around about just how connected to organized crime the Hawthornes are, and how their empire spans through both the economic markets and the black markets.
My dad might not have a problem with Jace as a person, but he could have issues with his family, and in our world, that’s essentially the same thing.
“I think he will,” she says, but I can hear a hint of doubt in her voice.
“I’m sure he’ll be surprised, but that’s only because of the history between you two.
” She pauses for a few beats. “I have no problem telling him if you think that’s best. Or even not telling him yet.
This is your call. You tell me what you want, and that’s what I’ll do. ”
“I’ll tell him,” I say. “I just need some time to figure out when.”
“I understand. I won’t say a word to anyone. You tell him whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Is it okay if I give you some mom advice?”
“Hit me with it.”
“I read something once that said no one is entitled to know your sexuality until you decide to tell them. I obviously can’t speak from experience about what it’s like to worry about coming out or dealing with people’s reactions to the news, but I wholeheartedly agree with it.
The only person who can decide if and when you tell people about your personal business is you, and I’ll support whatever you decide. ”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, my voice tight.
I knew she’d be okay with everything, but knowing something and experiencing it are two different things, and a part of me was terrified I’d lose the only family I have left.
“Is everything else okay?” she asks.
“Yup, everything is good. I should actually get going,” I tell her. “I have some stuff I need to do.”
“Have a good night, and I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later. Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto my bed as I sit up and swing my legs over the side.
My eyes land on the empty tray I need to send back down to the kitchens, and I swallow hard as I remember the food Jace had sent up for me earlier.
I figured it would be bagged lunch or one of the other simple grab-and-go lunch options they keep stocked during the day, but it was a full breakfast, and exactly what I always order when I’m hungover.
Three egg whites, three pieces of toast, three slices of bacon, and three sausages with a glass of water, another of orange juice, and a black coffee. It’s a specific enough order that it’s not a standard menu option, and no one in the kitchens would just randomly make it.
That means Jace knows my hangover order.
But does that actually mean anything other than he’s observant and we’ve lived in the same house for over three years?
Am I reading too much into things, and the food and drink were just him cosplaying as a human and running his “what would a person do” program?
And I still have no idea what the fuck happened last night or what any of the videos mean.
I had a brief chat with Paxton when he came by my room about an hour after Jace left, but he’s just as confused as I am and doesn’t even remember taking or sending me the videos thanks to the tequila shots he ended up doing after I left, so he has no clue what happened either.
The only thing he was able to tell me for sure was that I got into a verbal confrontation with Mason, and that Jace pulled out his knife-spinning skills to defuse the situation, but he has no idea what happened after I ended up outside.
His theory is that Jace literally carried me back to the house and got my ass into bed, but he doesn’t remember who those three guys were and if Jace was fighting them because of something I did, or because of something he did.
Is that why he was so nice to me this morning? Because he saw how fucked up I was and felt sorry for me? With anyone else, I’d consider that a possibility, but that doesn’t track with Jace. He’s not the type to alter his behavior to make people feel better.
Scrubbing one hand through my hair, I stand and lift my arms above my head to stretch out my stiff back. I’m reading way too far into things that aren’t even there.
It doesn’t matter that we’ve slept together or that I spilled my deepest, darkest secrets to him. Jace is either fucking with me, or he’s messing with me. There are no deeper meanings to anything he’s doing, and I need to get the fuck over whatever is making me think otherwise.
Resolved, I drop my arms and scoop up my phone.
Might as well put in some face time with the guys and see where the night takes me.
“Are you sure you’re not going to change your mind?” Dan asks.
“Not tonight.” I shoot him a rueful smile. “Still recovering from last night.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you were fucked up, bro. I don’t remember much, but I remember that.”
“I was.” I toss him, and the rest of the guys in the room, a quick wave. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“And don’t do anything you would,” Paxton quips.
“That too.” I shoot him some cheesy finger guns. “Have fun being young and fancy-free.”
The guys laugh and chorus their goodbyes, and I quickly make my escape.
The last few hours were more exhausting than I’ll ever admit to anyone, and it feels like I can finally pull in a deep breath as I head down the hall to my room.
As much as I want to get fucked up again so I can stop feeling things and shut my brain down for a few hours instead of obsessing about Jace and what happened last night, I also know that’s a colossally bad idea right now.
I’m too volatile, and there’s a very real chance that I’ll turn into a drunken menace who just wants to fight and cause trouble, and I really don’t have the bandwidth to deal with the fallout if I do something I can’t just laugh off or easily take back.
It looks like tonight is the perfect night to dip into my personal stash and stay the fuck away from everyone while I enjoy the bliss that comes with getting high off my ass.
The folded-up piece of white paper taped to my door as I approach it isn’t a surprise, since they put one on everyone’s door a few hours ago, and I pull it down without reading the short missive.
I already know it’s a notice that they need to shut down the new key log system on our room doors for thirty minutes so they can update it, and we’ll have to use our keys instead of our IDs while they do. But the scheduled time was hours ago, so it’s not like this is pressing news anymore.