7. Chapter 7
I’m nobody.
At least that’s how I feel walking across the St. Michael’s campus. Students shoulder past me without a glance while I glare at the map on my phone, trying to figure out where the hell the admissions office is. That’s task number one for the day, at least.
Task number two: Keep my father from noticing which trust fund I’ve raided.
Task number three: Keep him from figuring out where I am once he does.
I’m transferring.
Last night, while stuck in my crappy hotel room watching reruns of The Baseball Bachelor, I finally snapped. I’m not here to watch some idiot who plays for the Carolina Catfish choose between three women who look exactly the same.
I’m here to take ownership of my life. I’m here for Ella. For Tiff, even if she doesn’t want me to be there.
I refuse to be a deadbeat dad or hide behind excuses that are always made for me.
I’m a father now, and I need to start acting like it.
That’s why I clicked the button last night.
I initiated the transfer to St. Michael’s, and now this meeting will make it official.
Is it reckless? Maybe.
Could this all blow up in my face? Almost certainly, but I have to try.
Another student shoulders past me, and as another one walks by, I clear my throat.
“Excuse me,” I ask, but the girl doesn’t stop for me. Her airpods are stuffed in her ears, and she’s watching something on her phone, so she has no clue I’m even here.
Funny, if I was at Southern Collegiate, people would be actively trying to help me.
Here, no one wants anything from me. No one mentions my last name before my first. There are no lingering stares from girls, trying to get my attention.
For all intents and purposes, I’m invisible, and although that’s making it hard to find the admissions office—it’s so fucking liberating.
I might be going broke with no friends, but I’d prefer that to the constant pressure of trying to live up to someone I’m not, and I know I’ll never be.
I check the map again, following the footpath when my mother’s face fills the screen.
She’s calling.
It’s her fifth attempt this week, and I consider letting it go to voicemail, but I can’t. The guilt of ignoring her comes in faster when she’s looking right at me.
I stuff an earbud into my ear, and accept the call, keeping the phone in front of me so I can use the map.
“Hello?”
“Jamie?” Her voice isn’t relieved. No. It’s tight and annoyed. “Where are you? Your father's been trying to reach you for the last two weeks. You’ve turned your locator app off, and you haven’t spent a thing on your credit card.”
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Using any bank account with my father’s name would be the fastest way for him to track me down.
“Are you in France? We thought you might’ve skipped town and gone on vacation with Thatcher, but he’s still at school and claims to have no idea where you are.”
Thanks, Asher. I always knew I could count on you.
It’s obvious from her tone she doesn’t believe Asher. Can’t blame her. The kid’s screwed up enough times that even when he’s telling the truth, it sounds like bullshit.
I stop near a massive oak tree, and smile when I see the ‘Student Services’ sign above the building in front. Exactly where I need to be.
See, who the fuck needs help when you can find shit yourself?
Leaning against the oak tree, I think about what I should say to my mom. I’ve already put the transfer through. I’ve paid the tuition for the next two years—something they clearly haven’t seen yet—and for all intents and purposes, I’ve transferred.
There’s nothing they can do to stop it now, so I decide to tell her the truth.
“I’m at St. Michael’s. Been here for the past two weeks.”
“St. Michael’s? What the hell are you doing there? Trying to get back with Hunniford?”
Honey?
Wow. Even after all of this, they’re still trying to force the point with me and my ex.
“No,” I roll out lazily. “That’s not why I’m here.” I say it as almost a taunt.
Does she know Tiff is here?
I’m pretty sure my father knows because of the lawsuit he’s been using against her to get what he wants, but did he tell my mother?
“Jamie. I don’t have time for this. What are you doing?”
Sounds like he hasn’t, and I don’t want to take that away from him.
“Just hanging out.” It’s not a lie since that’s literally all I’ve been doing.
There’s a beat of silence. “This has gone on long enough, don't you think? Your father is willing to forget this… rebellion if you come home now. Your classes at Southern Collegiate start in a week. If you want, we can kick Hunniford out of the internship. It was your space—”
“I’m not coming back.”
The words come out stronger than I expected, solid with conviction. It’s the first time I’ve said them out loud—to them, to myself—and it feels like I’ve added another notch to my so-called freedom streak.
“Not now. Not ever.”
She takes a sharp intake of breath. “Jamie.” There’s that tone. The same soft, desperate one she’d use when she’d coerce me into seeing things her way. “Please come home. This is embarrassing the family name.”
I grit my teeth.
The family name? Fucking rich coming from her. After what they did to Tiff. What they did to me.
“The family name,” I interrupt, “will survive without me.”
“I didn’t want to have to say this, but this tantrum isn’t just about you anymore, Jamie,” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice. “Your father is—he’s not handling this well. He hasn’t slept in days. Please, Jamie. Come home. We can work this out.”
He’s not handling it well. How the hell did he think a teenage mom took it when he served her fucking court papers?
“What is there to work out? I’m not fucking working at his hellhole of a job. I’m not coming back and pretending to be the perfect Nicks heir.”
“Language,” she scolds automatically, then sighs. “It's complicated, Jamie. He cares about your future. About the life planned for you.”
“The life you planned for me,” I correct her. “It’s not the one I want.”
“And what is it you want, Jamie? To throw away your education? Your inheritance? Everything we've worked for? For what?”
“You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” I ask, astonished.
She takes a breath for a beat, and I swear I almost hear her coming to the right conclusion.
“Oh, you’re kidding, right? Are you throwing this tantrum over some girl you barely know and her child?”
The dismissive way she refers to Tiff and Ella makes my blood boil, but at least she put it all together. “They're my family,” I say, each word deliberate and firm. “My real family.”
“We're your family,” she insists, hurt bleeding through her controlled tone. “We've always been your family.”
“Then act like it,” I counter. “Support me. Respect my choices. Let me live my life. I'm staying here with my daughter. That’s non-negotiable. If you and my father don’t want to have a relationship with me because of it, then it’s your loss.”
That makes her stop, and I hear her blow out a breath of disbelief.
“You barely know them,” she says quietly. “They’re strangers to you.”
“They won’t be soon,” I say, “but if that’s all, I’ve gotta go. Got some stuff I need to handle.”
“Jamie, wait—”
I end the call before she can finish, feeling no guilt at all. I don’t care anymore. They can say or do whatever the fuck they want; it won’t change my decision.
I’m here, and I’m not leaving until Tiff tells me she doesn’t want me.
I stuff my phone in my pocket and head straight to student services. Just as I reach for the handle, I hear a faint sniffle.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean back, surprised at what I see.
Honey is sitting on a bench just to the side of the entrance. She hasn’t seen me. She’s too busy looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair is draped around her face, and her shoulders are shaking so slightly most people wouldn’t notice that she’s upset.
I do, though.
I’ve seen it before, more times than I want to admit. She’s holding back her tears, doing everything she can to keep her composure. That’s why she’s here, alone in one of the quietest parts of campus. She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this.
My fingers twitch and I’m overcome with the need to comfort her in the same way I did when we were kids. I’d always take her hand to let her know she’s not alone. That our parents were both terrible and we’d get through this together.
Except I broke that promise.
I lost the privilege of comforting one of my best friends when I cheated on her with Tiff. The worst part about it is that I knew exactly what I was doing. I didn’t want to be part of the Sanderson/Nicks legacy anymore, so I made that future impossible for either of us to attain.
I don’t regret it. Honey was never mine, and it was never meant to be my place to comfort her.
As much as I hate to admit it, she was always supposed to be with a guy like Zach. He’d fight for her and prove that he’s worthy of being with her.
Speaking of, where is he?
Shouldn’t he be here comforting her?
Maybe he’s the reason she’s upset. Nah, he’s too obsessed with her to ever hurt her.
I bet he’s on his way now to help. The man loves to clean up a mess. He raised my daughter while I was failing out of JV and cheating my way through high school. He has every right to kick my ass on sight, and knowing him, he probably will.
So reluctantly, I turn away from Honey and her tears—another person I've failed, another relationship I've destroyed—and head into the building, hoping that I’m finally doing something right in my life.