Chapter 27
PERMANENT
JOEY
My eyes flutter open to pitch darkness beyond the curtains, hours before dawn.
Shit. I fell asleep.
My parents will definitely notice I didn’t come home, and explaining where I’ve been will require conversations I’m not ready to have.
Part of me wants to stay here forever, memorizing the way Jesse looks in sleep, his face slack, one arm thrown across my waist, breathing slow against my shoulder. But I need to leave.
Carefully, I lift his arm and slide out from beneath its hold. He shifts slightly, his arm tightening across my waist before going slack. I wait until his body settles and slip quietly from the bed.
I stretch my arms overhead, working out the stiffness in my shoulders. My body carries the sweet ache of last night, muscles I’d forgotten I had announcing themselves with each movement.
Clothes lie scattered across the hardwood floor in a trail leading from the door to the bed. My cheeks prickle at the memory as I gather the pieces, careful not to let fabric rustle.
When I reach for my bra near his nightstand, the half-open drawer catches my attention.
The mask sits half-hidden beneath a notebook. I glance at Jesse’s sleeping form before picking it up, turning it over in my hands. The pattern flowing across the surface transforms what could be sinister into art.
This small piece of Jesse gives him the freedom to be who he really is.
Behind it, he becomes this raw, uninhibited version of himself that takes my breath away.
But holding it now, in the dark, with the warmth of him still on my skin—I wonder how many versions of Jesse O’Donnell exist. And how many I’ve actually met.
I set it carefully back in the drawer and pull on my clothes.
In his bathroom, I flip on the soft vanity lights and check my appearance in the mirror. My hair is a disaster and my lips are swollen. I look thoroughly ravaged, and anyone who sees me will know exactly what I’ve been doing.
I need a toothbrush or at least some mouthwash. Opening the medicine cabinet, I search for a way to freshen up.
The cabinet is surprisingly organized: cologne, a razor, toothpaste. And there, on the middle shelf, is a prescription bottle.
I know I shouldn’t but I grab the bottle anyway, curiosity overriding common sense.
His name is clearly printed on the white label, along with a medication I don’t recognize.
Questions tumble through my mind. What would Jesse need prescription medication for? He’s never mentioned anything.
“What are you doing?”
Jesse’s voice makes me jump, and I nearly drop the bottle. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing his boxer briefs. His gaze zeroes in on what’s in my hands.
“Sorry, I was searching for a toothbrush.” I hold up the bottle. “What is this for?”
Surprise crosses his face, or maybe embarrassment. He moves deliberately toward me and takes the bottle from my fingers. “It’s not a big deal.” He sets it in the cabinet without glancing at the label.
“You ready to head home? I can follow you.” The rigid line of his shoulders stops me from pushing. Whatever this is, he’s not ready.
So I let it go. For now.
“I should head home.” I finish getting dressed while he pulls on his jeans.
“I’ll follow you.” He reaches for his keys on the dresser.
“Jesse, it’s a fifteen-minute drive. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“And I have a car with working locks and a full tank of gas.” I cross to him and press a palm to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.
His jaw tightens. “Joey.”
“I’m a big girl. I’ve been driving myself places for years.”
He catches my waist before I can pull away, tugging me closer. “What if I want to make sure you get home safe?”
“I’ll text you when I get home.”
A muscle flexes in his jaw. He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t agree either. Jesse cups my face in his hands, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones.
“Drive safe,” he murmurs, and presses his lips to mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet, nothing like the desperate way we kissed earlier. When we break apart, a longing tugs beneath my ribs, deeper than desire.
“Goodnight, Jesse.”
“Goodnight.”
I study his face, the stubborn set of his jaw. “You’re going to follow me anyway, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
I smile, shaking my head as I slip out through his private entrance. His gaze follows me across the driveway until I reach my Jeep. The engine starts with a quiet purr, and I wave before reversing onto the street.
The drive home passes in a blur of empty streets and streetlights, my mind circling to the pill bottle, to the way Jesse’s shoulders locked when I held it up. I gave him parts of myself tonight I’ve never given anyone but he’s still holding pieces back.
I turn into our driveway and kill the engine. Headlights sweep across my rearview mirror before pulling to a stop at the end of our street. Far enough away to be respectful, close enough to make sure I get inside safely.
I grab my phone and type quickly.
Joey: Go to bed, stalker.
The headlights flash once before the car disappears into the night.
I slip through our side door as quietly as possible, boots dangling from my fingers. The house sits in familiar darkness, and I hold my breath as I tiptoe across the kitchen tiles. Almost there. The hallway is within reach, and then the lamp in the living turns on and I freeze.
Dad’s sitting in the recliner, still dressed, like he’s been waiting up. His expression is unreadable, but the set of his shoulders tells me everything.
I’m in trouble.
“Where were you tonight?” That deceptively calm tone. Somehow worse than yelling.
“I told you, I went out with Becca and Zoe.” The lie slides out before I can stop it, even though every instinct screams at me to tell the truth. But I can’t. Not when our bubble is so fragile.
“Wrong.” Dad leans forward. “Try again.”
My mouth goes dry. “Dad, I don’t understand what…”
“Why was Jesse’s car parked out front?”
Shit. My stomach plummets.
“At least he was a gentleman, making sure you got home safe,” Dad continues, an edge sharpening his words. “But that’s not going to save him.”
“Dad, it’s not what you think…”
“Oh, I was twenty once, too.” His voice drops to that quiet register that means business. “I understand exactly what happens at two in the morning.”
I open my mouth, but close it as I scramble for words that won’t make this worse.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since the beginning of summer.” I wince as the words leave my mouth, recognizing how bad that sounds.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Staying out at every hour of the night, lying to your mother and me.”
“I’m an adult.” I sink onto the couch, suddenly exhausted by months of deception.
Dad takes a seat and leans forward. “Talk to me, Joey. You used to tell me everything. What’s different now?”
The question lands like a knife to the heart.
Dad’s right, I’ve always been his confidant, the twin who inherited his quiet nature while Maggie got Mom’s dramatic flair.
We’d spend hours at the record store together, talking about everything and nothing while he organized inventory.
But that was when I had nothing to tell.
“I wanted to see where things were going before I told anyone.” I stare at my hands, twisting them in my lap.
“Well, I’d say they’re going fine if you’re coming in at two in the morning.”
“With Maggie gone, I finally had space to breathe. To figure out who I am without her,” I try to explain but it all comes out like word vomit.
Dad nods. “Let me guess, Jesse helped you figure that out?”
“He sees me, Dad.”
“I see you too, honey.” It’s like he’s trying to stick the knife in further.
“I understand that, but this was different. It was mine to explore without everyone watching and analyzing and offering opinions.” I take a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to lie for so long.”
Dad leans against the recliner, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “You could have trusted us, Joey. Your mother and I, we’re not the enemy here.”
“I know. But you guys have been friends with the O’Donnells since before I was born. There’s so much history, so many complications. What if things didn’t work out? What if it ruined the friendship?”
“Believe me, we’ve survived worse,” he says solemnly.
I don’t have an answer for that. My dad and Jesse’s dad have deep roots.
“The lying stops now,” he says finally. “No more sneaking around, no more stories about being with friends. If you want to be treated like an adult, you act like one. That means honesty, even when it’s uncomfortable.”
“Okay.” Relief loosens the knot in my chest but it’s replaced by another knot, one that my dad can’t fix. “I’m sorry, Dad. I really am.”
“I accept that.” He crosses to me and pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me the way they did when I was little and the world seemed too big. For a moment, I’m five years old again, crying over a scraped knee while Dad makes everything better.
He pulls away, hands on my shoulders, and an uncomfortable silence fills the space. “Are you being safe?”
I blink at him, confused by the sudden shift. “What do you mean?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me say it.” Color creeps up his face. “Condoms, Joey. Are you using condoms? I know your mother put you on birth control a while ago, but you still need to use protection.”
I want to crawl under the couch cushions. “Dad, oh my God.”
“You think I wanna be imagining my little girl…”
“Please stop.” I hold up my hand. “Yes, Dad. We’re being safe.” I say way too fast and my stomach feels like there’s a rock in it.
“Good.” His shoulders drop with visible relief. “That’s… good. Your mother would kill me if I didn’t ask.”
We stand in mortified silence for a moment before he clears his throat.
“Now, about Jesse. I need to have a conversation with him.”
Ice floods my veins. “Dad, please.”
“Tell Jesse I want to speak with him.”
I take a shaky breath. “You better be nice to him.”
“Of course I will.” He smiles, but the glint in his eyes contradicts the reassurance.
I shake my head and raise up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Daddy. I love you.”
“You’re putting me in an early grave,” he mutters. “But I love you too.”
I head down the hallway to my room, each step heavier than the last. Behind my closed door, I sink onto my bed and bury my face in my hands.
I flop backward, the impact jarring through my spine. I grab my phone and start typing.
Joey: Abort, abort. Get on a plane, leave town while you still can.
The response comes almost immediately.
Jesse: What kind of crazy train are you on now?
Joey: My father knows.
Three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.
Jesse: Come on, it can’t be that bad.
I let out a hysterical laugh that borders on a sob.
Joey: He knows you’ve been fucking his daughter.
Jesse: Jesus, I’m kinda partial to my dick staying intact.
Joey: And he wants to talk to you.
Jesse: Should I come back over?
Joey: Oh God no. At least wait until you get some sleep so you’re alert.
Joey: And I’m kinda partial to your dick too.
Jesse: The fucking mouth on you.
Joey: Also, I should have told you this earlier but it was a bit of a crazy night…
My cheeks flush thinking about it. And this is so not how I wanted to tell Jesse but I can’t let him be blindsided.
Joey: Your father was at the Fonda.
The typing dots appear and disappear several times before his response comes through.
Jesse: Jesus fuck.
Jesse: Anything else you wanna drop on me?
Joey: I love you.
Jesse: Permanent, Joey.