Chapter 54
Jase
I want to have a home again.
—Jase
“I can stay here if you want,” I tell her for the fourth time, but Zoe just rolls her eyes.
It’s Wednesday morning. She’s still in bed, and I want to crawl under the covers with her and block out the world a little longer, like we’ve been doing for the last couple of days.
We turned off our phones and spent our days in the living room with Zoe’s family.
We played games and watched cheesy movies. We talked. A lot. And cried too.
“No, I want you to go. Think of your scholarship.” There’s a reproachful tone in her voice, and I know she’s right. I should probably be more focused on it. But I can’t. My head is full of thoughts of her, and I almost don’t care about the scholarship right now.
“The scholarship doesn’t—”
“If you say it doesn’t matter right now, I’ll throw you out. You’ve already missed two days, and I still want you as my dance partner next semester. So go!”
I want to tell her that I’m not going back without her, that I only want to be with her. That I need her. But I bite back the words because we haven’t talked yet about when she’s coming back, or whether she’ll come back at all. She’s not ready yet.
“Okay. I’ll be back after class, then.”
“I hope so,” she says with a smile.
Then she really kicks me out, and I go.
It’s still early when I enter the dorm to get changed for class, but everyone seems to be up and about already. Excited voices echo through the corridors. I feel people’s eyes on me as soon as I enter the building. They know what’s going on. I can tell.
The news of Reed’s arrest spread faster than I thought it would. Half the city knows about it, not just our classmates. Which shouldn’t be that surprising, considering Reed is the principal’s nephew. Still, I would prefer it if they’d all keep their mouths shut and mind their own business.
“Jase!” I stop when I hear Skye’s angry voice. She comes straight at me, dark hair flying like a cloak behind her. Her eyes are flashing with fury. I instinctively back away, but I’m too slow. She pushes my chest so hard that I stumble.
“You’re such an ass!” she hisses, continuing before I can ask why. “It would have been nice if you’d contacted me even once. One tiny message would have been enough! Like telling me you were still alive. You dropped off the face of the earth for days! I was imagining the worst!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t talk your way out of it, you . . . wait, did you just apologize?” Her eyes go wide, and I have to grin.
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch. I was with Zoe and . . .” I shrug in a way that somehow encompasses everything I can’t say.
Her gaze softens into a look of concern. “How is she?”
I fish my room key out of my pocket and open the door. “All right. She’s strong.”
She’s stronger than any other person I know.
Skye follows me as I walk inside. I toss the key on my desk and grab my dance clothes out of the dresser.
“It’s all a fucking mess, isn’t it?”
“That just about sums it up.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks carefully, and I turn to face her. She’s leaning on my desk, her hands gripping the edge, her head tilted.
“No.” I can’t talk about it. Not now. “But thank you.”
“Of course. If you change your mind, let me know. This can’t be easy for you.”
I clench my teeth and shake my head. No, it’s not.
Skye steps away from the desk and comes toward me. Before I can react, she pulls me into a strong hug. “It’s okay, Jase.”
I want to shake my head again, but she’s right. My shoulders relax, and then I return her embrace. For a long time. Until Skye lets go of me.
She smiles gently. “The two of you can do this. It’s all going to be fine.”
I nod, because I need to believe it. It’s all going to be fine.
* * *
The day goes by without me paying much attention to what’s going on around me. No one talks to me about Zoe. I can tell I’m still being observed, but no one asks questions. Maybe it’s because of Skye, who doesn’t leave my side and gives a dirty look to anyone she sees whispering about me.
During the pas de deux class, it occurs to me that not only is Zoe missing, but Charlotte is too. I ask Skye about her, but she only shrugs. Charlotte hasn’t been seen all week, but no one knows anything about it.
I’m just glad I don’t run into her. Otherwise, I would probably break her fucking neck.
Late in the afternoon, I’m walking back down the hall to my room, lost in thought. I want to shower and change before I go back to Zoe, and I notice too late that my parents are standing at my door, apparently waiting for me.
Crap.
Dad’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a black wool coat over a dark gray suit and looks totally out of place here.
Mom is standing slightly apart from him, nervously wringing her hands.
I notice that she’s lost weight. She’s thinner than usual; her face has gotten narrower, and her cheekbones stand out even more than usual. There are dark circles under her eyes.
My instincts tell me just to turn around and leave, but I’m done avoiding them. This has to stop. When they see me, Mom’s eyes tear up, and she sighs with relief. “There you are,” she says, taking a step toward me. “We were worried. You haven’t been in your room for the past few days.”
“You were here?” I ask in surprise and open my door.
She nods. “We want to talk to you.”
“It can’t go on like this,” Dad says, but his voice is hard and cold, as usual. Just like his gaze. Everything about him is cold.
“It won’t,” I say, but I’m pretty sure I mean something different than he does.
He doesn’t answer, and his eyes narrow as his gaze bores into me. His eyes remind me of Sam’s.
“Can we come in?” Mom asks before either of us can say a word. They don’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, of course, and to be honest, I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea either. But I don’t want them in my room.
“We want to talk to you, and to apologize,” Mom continues. Something in her tone of voice hurts like hell. I laugh and watch as Dad’s hands tighten into fists. He probably imagined this differently, but I’m sick of these games. I just want peace and quiet.
“You want to apologize? For what?”
“This is ridiculous. We aren’t going to have this conversation in the hall,” Dad interjects before Mom can answer my question. He pushes past me into my room.
I see red and suddenly lose control. “Ridiculous? Is that what I am to you? Ridiculous. A joke.” I follow him into my room and grab him by the shoulder. I try to turn him around and send him back into the hall, but Mom is standing in the door, blocking the way.
Her eyes are shining with tears. It’s clear by looking at her that she expected this to go differently.
Dad doesn’t reply, just stands mutely in front of me. His jaw clenches. He’s fighting for self-control.
“We can easily shorten this conversation. I’m not going to Harvard, and if it’s up to me, we’ll never speak another word to each other.”
“Jase, please,” Mom begs. “We’re a family.”
“No. We’re not a family anymore, not since Sam died. You would have preferred it if I’d died instead, and you know what? Sometimes I wished the same thing!”
I hear Mom gasp, but I’m concentrating on Dad. I see a flash of pain in his eyes that’s all too familiar to me.
“That’s not true, Jase.” Mom comes into the room, and the door closes behind her. The room suddenly feels too small.
I can’t breathe, and my heart cramps painfully. This is all too much. I don’t want to talk; I need them to leave. But for reasons I don’t understand, I continue.
“Ask him what he said when I said the same thing at your party,” I demand. My voice sounds hollow, not like myself.
Dad goes pale. “Jase, that wasn’t—”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I’m not Sam. I will never be Sam, and you can’t accept that.
Not my wishes, not my dreams or who I am.
” Dad opens his mouth, but I’m not done yet.
“It wasn’t Sam’s death that destroyed our family.
It was you! And no apology in the world can undo that.
I don’t want to hear it. Do you understand? I—”
“Sam died in a football game,” Dad says, interrupting me. His voice cracks with anger and pain, and there’s a grimace on his face. “He was an athlete, and he died.”
“And?” I say between clenched teeth.
“And the same thing could happen to you!”
It takes a few seconds for the words to reach me before I understand what he’s trying to say. I laugh in disbelief and push back my hair. “Are you serious? Is that supposed to be an apology? You don’t want me to dance because I could die like Sam? That doesn’t even make sense!”
Dad glares at me. “Not everything has to make sense.”
“For you it does! Always. And that’s the worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s still the truth.”
“Then why are you only telling me this now? In the last five years, you’ve been treating me like your biggest disappointment. I could never do anything right for you.”
“I made mistakes,” Dad admits. But it’s not enough.
“It’s nice that you see that. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“What do we have to do to make it change something?” Mom holds out her hand to me, but I evade her.
“Shit, Mom! Did you happen to notice that you came here to apologize, and neither of you has actually said you’re sorry? You want to bring our family back together . . . but I have no clue why. Honestly.”
My parents exchange stricken looks.
“We did everything wrong, didn’t we?” Mom’s shoulders slump. “We should never have let you believe that—” she breaks off, unable to get the words out.
“But you did.”
“I’m sorry.” She reaches her hand out to me again, and I avoid it again. Maybe her words should make me feel something, but all I feel is emptiness. A single apology can’t undo the last five years.
An uncomfortable silence grows between us. They’re waiting for a reply, and I’m waiting for . . . something more. So I can figure out what I’m supposed to do now.
Dad clears his throat and changes the subject. “That girl you were at the party with. That was Zoe Young, wasn’t it?”
I stiffen. Is he fucking serious? He wants to talk about Zoe right now? My parents are the last people I expected to be interested in the gossip about Zoe and Reed.
“That’s none of your business.”
Dad’s brow creases in confusion, and then it smooths as he understands. “I’m not talking about what happened to her,” he says. “It’s about what she said that evening. That I’m the one who’s disappointing you.”
I tense, and my heart skips a beat again. “And?” I say, because my mind is suddenly blank.
“She was right.”
“She usually is.”
“I’d like . . . How can we . . . What can we do?” All at once, Dad seems terrifyingly helpless. I’ve never seen him like this.
Part of me wants to send them away and never speak to them again. They’re my parents, but they haven’t acted like it in years. It’s not my job to save our crappy relationship just because we have the same genes. But another part of me hesitates.
“You should go now,” I finally say.
Mom’s eyes go wide, and she’s about to protest, but I beat her to it.
“I need time to think.” A lot of time. “I’ll get in touch with you when I’m ready.”
The two of them exchange a glance. It’s clear that Mom would rather do anything but leave, and Dad doesn’t seem entirely thrilled by the idea either.
But for the first time, my parents respect my decision. They leave.