Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Scottie
Ican sense the moment the crowd’s energy shifts toward me. I’m pretending to work on my iPad so Jake can “surprise” me for the cameras and get his perfect moment.
I wish I didn’t have to give it to him.
I look up from my iPad, like I’m just noticing the crowds and not looking for Lucas.
He’s standing behind the rope at his signing table, his head angled down but his eyes peeking up at me over his sunglasses. He’s not angry. Not devastated.
Just still.
Like he’s not anticipating me kissing someone else in ten seconds.
He’s so good at this. So steady, so cool, so exactly what I asked him to be—but standing here waiting for Jake’s arms to come around me, his stillness isn’t comfort.
It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever watched.
A yearning hits me so hard it almost startles me—not for a scene, not for drama, just for him to walk over and stand next to me like he has the right to. Consequences be hanged.
How dare I want that?
My two conflicting directives come to mind: stop holding back.
Don’t cross lines.
I gave him both at the same time, expecting him to figure out what I can’t.
And now I’m standing here realizing I’ve been protecting Jake at Lucas’s expense and calling it the right thing to do.
Is it hurting Lucas as much as it’s hurting me?
Jake’s only two feet away from me, and I make a decision.
I turn my head toward him, drop my mouth, and gasp.
“Jakey!” I say.
“Hot Stuff!” he calls back, opening his arms for a hug.
But I don’t give it to him. Instead, I grab his hand while flashbulbs go off around us and tug him toward the tent.
“Whoa,” he says with a chuckle to the crowd. “Someone’s excited to see me.”
This earns him all the laughs he wants.
And the second we’re past the canvas flap, it also earns him a punch to the shoulder.
“What the heck, bro?” I ask. “How about a heads-up next time?”
He rolls his eyes—ignoring my punch completely—and drops down to a black folding chair. He cracks a water bottle, drains it, and then crushes it flat while I try to burn holes in him with my eyes.
He tosses the water bottle into a nearby trashcan. “I told you we needed to talk.”
“Yeah, so next time, call me.”
He shrugs and throws his arm over the back of the chair. “What does it matter?” he asks. I sit in a chair across from him and cover my face with my hands. “Oh, shoot. Is this about the TikTok kid?”
“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Scot, I’m not trying to mess things up for you. You guys can do whatever you want … as soon as Agent says we’re good to call it quits.”
I’m trying not to cry into my hands. The tent is meant for privacy, and even with the fan in the corner, it’s stuffy. My hands over my face make me feel claustrophobic, but I can’t let Jake see me like this.
“It’s so lame that you call him ‘Agent,’” I say. “He has a name.”
“Yeah, and so did the last four. I thought they were all gonna be on my side, and they had no problem selling me out or dropping me when I went off script. Calling him Agent instead of ‘Todd’ makes it easier to remember he doesn’t care about me.”
I drop my hands with a sigh. It’s not enough that Jake had neglectful yet predatory parents; he’s had a string of agents who only cared about money, at the expense of Jake’s happiness.
Jake seems so tough, like he doesn’t care about anything, but he’ll roll over for the first father figure who says hi to him, let alone so much as hints that he’ll look out for him.
Agents aren’t all bad—Lucas and Logan have a great one, I’ve learned in the last couple of weeks—but Jake attracts predators. He’s insanely talented, but he’s also loud and unpredictable, and certain kinds of agents know how to spin that to make money.
He’s basically shark bait for bloodthirsty agents.
Like Todd Finch.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “That guy at the charity event sounded a lot like your dad.”
His laugh cuts like broken glass. “Yeah, you know who else does? My actual dad. He called last night, high out of his mind, begging me to bail him out of jail.”
“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry. What did you do?”
“Hopped on the first plane to Arizona.” He gives a loud huff. “If you can’t clean up a mess, avoid it. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“I just repeated it. My parents told us that during one of their ‘life skills’ lessons on Sunday nights before family movie night. Do you remember?”
He gives a slow nod, smiling. He really is handsome when he forgets to be a jerk. Broad shoulders. Long light-brown hair that always falls into place. Perpetual stubble along a sharp jaw—the kind that makes women think they can fix him.
I’m not one of them.
I stopped thinking I could fix Jake years ago.
Now I’m just his cleaning crew.
“Man, your parents took those lessons so seriously,” he says.
“Gave us those notebooks and made us write what we were committing to that week.” He laughs.
“I wrote ‘stop teasing Scot about her acne and braces’ one week, and your dad lit me up. He said a real man doesn’t tease girls and that he’d keep me home from practice for a month if I didn’t treat you better. ”
“What?” I blink. “My dad said that?”
“I think your mom pulled the strings on that one, but yeah.”
“Now I know you’re making this up.” I snort. “She was Team Jake before I was even born.”
He leans back and tosses a promotional stress baseball up into the air and catches it. “She watches out for me. She doesn’t trust me like she trusts you.”
“It’s easy to trust someone who never steps out of line,” I say pointedly.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding and throwing the ball up again. “But did you ever think maybe it’s easier to stay in line when you know everyone believes you can?”
“More like they expect you to and ignore you when you don’t.” I shake my head. “I had a rebellious phase, Jake. No one cared.”
“Nah, they just trusted you enough to know you’d figure it out.”
“I wish they’d cared enough to come get me.”
Neither of us says anything for a moment.
That’s new. Jake and I have spent twenty years filling silences with jokes or arguments or damage control. Just sitting in silence together right now feels strange. Like a truce.
“I mean it,” I say, not sure why I’m still talking.
But Jake’s just here. Listening. “I think I’ve spent my whole life being useful so no one ever had to worry about where I was.
” I laugh, which is absurd, because nothing about this is funny.
“I just... let it happen. Signed off on being an afterthought like it made me noble. Made sure to never ask for anything.”
The words are out now, and the fan in the corner is just blowing them around, scattering them until it’s impossible for me to get them back.
Jake looks at me with an expression in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Scot,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“You’re asking for something right now.” He tips his chin at me. “You know that, right?”
I stare at him. He’s not wrong, and I hate that he’s the one who spotted it.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “That’s a good thing.”
I give him a half smile, and then my phone buzzes. Rotation alert.
“All right, Boyfriend,” I say, standing and straightening my pants. “Hop to it. We’re on in five.”
Jake gets up and rolls back his shoulders, the chip resettling into place. He catches my eyes with a nod. “Thanks, Scot.”
I manage a half smile, because this is the Jake no one but my family knows: the guy whose scars can be covered but not healed. Not yet, anyway. But he’s also the guy who sees more than anyone would guess. As much as he drives me crazy, I love him like family.
Which is why kissing him is so gross.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Don’t get all mushy on me. And can you try not to kiss like a squid when we go out there?”
“You’re one to talk,” he says, pushing my arm. “I can’t imagine what TikTok Kid sees in you.”
At the tent flap, I peek out at the crowd.
Lucas isn’t there. He’s at his next rotation, doing exactly what I asked him to do.
And I let myself want him anyway. Not the wanting I usually swat away with a list of reasons. Just a yearning, plain and simple, that’s taken root in my chest and is growing bigger than I ever thought possible.
I don’t know what to do with that yet. But I don’t ignore it, either.
As Jake grabs my hand and pulls me out of the tent, I decide that counts for something.