Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Dax must still be mad about me spending time with LJ. It’s the only logical reason why I woke up in bed alone. He didn’t even leave a note or text.
I thought he understood why I wanted to beat my mother’s mind games. I know he doesn’t like the games, but it’s how things work in my family.
There’s a sinking feeling in my gut.
Ash said I was playing games too.
I flick my bracelet around my wrist so hard it whips at my skin.
“Ouch.”
I wrap my hand around the inflamed area and grit my teeth. Perhaps I need to give up this habit. It’s starting to get painful.
Inside the manor, I head to the parlor to gaze at the view. I’m stymied by my mother, who clip-clops down the hallway. “How was your evening with LJ?”
“It was fine.”
A smile cracks her pompous expression. “Had fun, did you?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”
At that, my mother laughs. “Oh, please. Most of your days are spent doing things you don’t want to do. Now, just be honest. What was that stunt about? I’ve seen you with the other boy. You can’t tell me you wanted to be with LJ.”
I twist my hands into fist, pointing my knuckles to the floor. “No. What I want is to be nothing like you.”
Mom’s chin drops. She utters syllables, which come out faint and unintelligible.
“I’m done being your puppet,” I blurt before I lose my nerve. “I knew if I gave in, take your permission to skip out on LJ, I’d pay for it later.”
Mom huffs loudly, getting her voice back. “Can’t a mother do something nice for her daughter?”
“Not when she’s my mother.”
“Regardless, I need you by my side today.”
“What for?”
“I’m meeting with Naomi Fisher to fix the seating chart.”
“It doesn’t need fixing. It’s fine.”
“And since when has fine been good enough?”
I place my hand on my chest. “Why do you need me there? It was hard enough getting between you two when you weren’t here.”
“We need to present a stronger united front than when I was away.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Since when is that an excuse?”
I groan. “Just go without me.”
“Not an option, daughter. Now, get ready.”
My mind fills with expletives. I want to scream at her. Not to mention, I can’t stop thinking about where Dax has disappeared.
With the war of clashing thoughts in my head, my mother takes my stunned silence as submission. She leads me to my bedroom and forces me into her approved outfit.
So much for sticking up for myself. A headache has burrowed deep into my skull, and I find myself sitting in the country club dining room.
Never has it felt harder to feign interest with Mrs. Fisher.
At least her youngest daughter, Meghan, has tagged along.
Not that we’re given time to speak, but at least I’m not the only one rotting in boredom.
I check my phone. Still no text from Dax.
I messaged twice this morning, asking where he went. Then I sent a message, letting him know I’d left the manor and wanted to meet up with him.
Ugh. Why isn’t he replying? I thought everything was resolved last night.
Did he get a call from his brother? Was he lured back to the clubhouse?
I suck in a ragged breath as my stomach turns inside out.
“What do you think, Vanessa?” my mother asks. Her tone suggests she knows I wasn’t listening.
“About the Waterhouse and Hutchinson families being on the same table?” I ask, presuming we’re still on the same topic as when I tuned out.
My mother beams. “Yes, darling. Thoughts?”
“They deserve to be on the same table,” I say bluntly. “When they can’t be bothered to buy a whole table, there are consequences.”
My mother purrs with a throaty laugh. “Oh, she’s a little mini-me, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Fisher mutters. “It hardly felt like you were gone at all, Hilda.”
I slouch in my chair. The words flowed so effortlessly off my tongue, because they were programmed in. I know everything about the families in our circle. I know who does and does not get along, and how to leverage the information. Like a robot, I spat out exactly what my mother wanted.
I fix my posture before my mother snaps. She and Mrs. Fisher resume talking over the top of each other. My hand brushes over the outline of my phone.
I need to be better than this.
I need to get back to Dax.
“Umm, Ness,” Meghan pipes up as our mother’s fight over the last seats at table eight.
Desperation dominates my body as we meet eyes.
Meghan nods, knowingly. “Wanna take a walk on the grounds?”
Mrs. Fisher taps a hand over Meghan’s wrist. “You don’t want to strain yourself.”
Meghan clicks her tongue. “I can walk, Mom.”
My mother frowns. “We’re not done here.”
I scoot my chair back and gesture at the board. “You’ve taken care of the VIPs. The rest is nit-picking.”
“That’s true,” my mother agrees.
“No, it’s not,” Mrs. Fisher argues. “I’m not happy with the placement of the Walters and McIntosh families.”
As they go at it again, I’m quick to beckon Meghan to follow. We dash out of the dining room, making it outside toward the tennis courts.
The fresh air is heavenly. “Thanks so much for getting me out of there.”
“I could see something was nagging at you. What’s up?”
As we take the winding path toward the golf course, relief washes over me. I got a text from Dax.
“I just needed to go for a ride and clear my head.”
I sink into my frown, lowering my phone to my side.
“Oh my gosh, Ness. What’s happened?”
I throw my hair off my shoulders and fan my face. “You don’t want to hear about it.”
Meghan links arms with me. “Sure I do.”
Miserably, I lift the phone. “I’ve messed things up with the guy I’m seeing.”
“Oh no. Last time we talked you seemed so smitten.”
“I did something really stupid last night, and it upset him. I thought he’d forgiven me, but now he wants space.”
Meghan subtly peers at the phone. “What exactly did he say?”
“He needed to clear his head.”
“Okay, that’s not exactly a bad thing.”
“But he could’ve talked to me about this.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to say anything he’d regret.”
Her words give me pause. “Since when did you become a relationship expert?”
She laughs. “Since I was forced into home-school and became a rom-com addict.”
I smile. “So, you’ve seen this situation in movies?”
“I just wouldn’t call it dire.”
“He thinks I play into my mother’s games too much. Plus, I’m too pushy and controlling.”
“You’re just passionate.”
A hearty laugh pours out of me. “Well, that’s diplomatic. I’d hardly describe the way I act as passionate. I can be petty and impulsive when it comes to my image.” I suck in a breath. “You know better than anyone. I was horrible to you in high school, and somehow, you forgave me.”
“Because you’re my friend and your mother turned you into a psycho.”
I grin. “Thanks for dropping the diplomacy.”
“Being out of the high school drama has made me more honest.” She sighs. “It also gives me almost zero options of ever getting a boyfriend again.”
I clasp her hands. “You deserve love. I swear, if I ever meet a real-deal prince, I’ll be setting you up.”
Meghan giggles, highlighting her freckles. “That would certainly clear the sins of the past.”
Meghan and I dawdle around the country club grounds, only returning inside when the dining room has officially closed. Without any more excuses, Mom relents and allows Roger to take us home.
I debate going inside the manor and taking a long soak in the tub, but I don’t want to risk missing Dax. Inside the pool house, I pace the plush rug, torturously waiting for his return.
I’ve texted him three more times. I know I shouldn’t be that girl, but I hate not having contact with him. Plus, if he’s anywhere near his brother, he could be in danger.
I sweep my hands under my hair and rub them against the back of my clammy neck.
I can’t stand around here waiting. What if he’s unconscious somewhere? What if he’s come off his motorcycle and his phone is completely shattered?
I turn toward the front glass door just as I hear it slide open.
My chest lifts and my shoulders relax at the sight of Dax entering the pool house.
“Oh my gosh, Dax.” I gasp, clasping the sides of my face. “Thank goodness you’re back.”
He slides the door behind him and walks toward me.
“I was about to get a car and search for you,” I say, throwing my arms around him. “I was worried you weren’t coming back.”
He doesn’t embrace me as intensely as I do him. One of his hands presses on the middle of my back and his other arm flops by his side.
I lift on my toes, meeting his eyes. “Dax?”
As I lean into him, a whiff of something smoky hits my nostrils. I lower onto my heels, running my hands down his leather jacket as the remnants of recently smoked cigarettes assault my senses.
I frown as my eyes prickle with building tears. “You smoked?”
His stare hardens, emphasizing every bloodshot streak. “I can’t break an eight-year habit overnight.”
There’s a lump in my throat. “But you had started wearing the patches.”
“It was hard enough making up my mind to leave this morning. I hardly had space in my brain to remember the patches.”
I run a hand up his arm. “If you were too anxious, you should’ve stayed with me.”
He flinches, bumping my hand off him. “I don’t need the guilt trip.”
I slide my hand over my bracelet, feeling every link in the slim chain. “That’s not what I was doing.”
He rubs a hand over his face and huffs. “Can I just lie down?”
I step out of his way, clearing a path to the hallway. “Yeah, sure.”
His pace to the bedroom is lethargic. He sits on the edge of the bed with no effort to take off his jacket or slip off his boots.
Cautiously, I sit next to him. He pulls out his phone and gets lost reading the screen. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt invisible to him.
“Do you want to talk about what happened today?”
His eyebrows lift as he exhales hard. “Definitely not.”
“Well, I had to spend all day with my mother,” I reply, trying to jumpstart a conversation. “I was bored out of my mind. So I’m more than happy to talk about your stuff.”