Chapter 23
Biology Class
Day 48
“Did you get in trouble?” Dax asked, his brow lightly furrowed.
I gaped at him. “Yeah. Why did you think I was trying to get you to leave?”
“He obviously knew you didn’t steal the golf cart.”
“You wouldn’t know that by talking to him.”
“What did he say?”
I wasn’t about to tell him that my daddy said I couldn’t hang around him anymore. This wasn’t a drama on Lifetime. Other than being forced to sit next to him for a class, we never ran in the same circles. And we never would. My dad was right. Dax would never leave the island.
“It’s fine. Just…I’m not getting messed up with you. Okay? The second I graduate, I’m out of here.”
“Messed up with me? What do you mean by that?”
I swallowed, ignoring the slight edge in his voice.
“Nothing.”
“Oh. So your dad doesn’t want you hanging out with me? Is that right?” This looked like it amused him in some way, which made my blood burn. He had caused the entire incident and he thought it was funny.
“No. He doesn’t.” I folded my arms.
“Why? ”
My foot twitched under the table. It wasn’t in my nature to be direct, but Dax wasn’t going to stop until I told him the truth. The words of my dad from the previous night spat easily from my lips.
“Because I’m graduating valedictorian. I’m headed to Vanderbilt. I’m leaving this island. I’m not going to be working the same job I worked at in high school for the rest of my life. Take your pick.”
For the tiniest moment, he looked as though he’d been shot, betrayed in some irreparable way, and I knew it would be that image that would haunt me for the rest of my days. But then I blinked and his self assured smile was back in place and I wondered if I imagined the whole thing.
T-minus 15 days to exit
Dax hours remaining: 100
The next week whirled by in a mixture of delusion and a whole lot of fun. My shifts at the cafe were nearly over. The blue tarps were taken down, and the windows on Dax’s shop finally got replaced. And Dax and I found a thousand things to do outside of his shop that had nothing to do with Legos.
All for hours, of course.
But with bargains like these, who could possibly blame me?
For a mere ten hours, Dax had to sit with me at the farmers market for the cafe. For only five hours more, I convinced him to contribute a few of his tools and random things he’d made in the shop. The propeller clock was purchased by the honorable Judge Baylor. Several knives made out of old lawnmower blades and sheathed in material from an old boat sail were claimed by several teenage boys in town. It was as delicious as I imagined, sitting next to Dax and watching his face flush with embarrassment from the praise.
And the twenty hours Dax offered me to TP my dad’s house was worth every second. The summer was slipping from my fingers, the Lego car was at least a month away from completion, and worst of all was the growing attachment I felt for Dax Miller.
Really. Who would have seen this coming?
“How many hours do you have left?” Dax asked as we sat on the floor, side by side, with the Lego guidebook between us. The song “We Built This City” played loudly through the speakers–louder than usual, but Dax said the song deserved respect, and apparently that meant volume. He had taken to helping me more lately, since we’d been spending so much time away from his shop the past couple of weeks. The nights spent doing Legos with him became the best part of my day. It turned out that Legos weren’t the worst when someone was doing them with you.
“Last count, I had ninety-eight.”
His brow furrowed. “Since when?”
“Since I did a bunch of your invoices the other night.”
He stretched and took a drink of his Coke. “I think I’m getting robbed.”
I didn’t want to talk about the hours. About how there was no way, save stealing an ambulance and tagging a building, that I would be able to get it done in time before I left in exactly one week.
And I had to leave. Right? It would be so dumb to walk away from a career I’d spent ten years building.
So, I sat there, ignoring everything but the feel of his arm against mine while we listened to a new mix of seventies and eighties rock. When an N’SYNC song I’d secretly added a while back came on, I began bopping to the beat, carefully hiding his phone on the other side of me. Dax began patting the space on both sides of him, and when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he tackled me as I squealed in protest. He then proceeded to roll me gently to the side. My shirt had ridden up a few inches in our scuffle and I held my breath as his fingers grazed my bare stomach as he located the phone .
It was at that moment, with me lying on the ground and half of Dax’s body leaning over me, that the door to the shop opened, and Sunset Harbor’s local senator stepped inside.
Impeccable timing, per usual.
I scooted out from under Dax and stood as my dad strode toward us. I expected rudeness and snarling, so I braced myself for it. What I got instead was much worse.
“Hello.” His voice was pleasant, and I was immediately on guard. He ignored Dax completely, choosing instead to ask if there was somewhere we could go to talk.
“Right here is fine,” I said.
That pulled him briefly out of his facade, a slight crack in his armor, but he quickly righted himself and said, “Good news. I spoke to the judge. I told him about your job and that they needed you back sooner than we thought.”
“How did you know about that?” I broke in.
“I called your department.”
Of course he did.
“Anyway, the judge said he’d give you permission to transfer whatever community service hours you have left here to a business in Nashville.”
I gaped at him. “What about the Lego car?”
My dad rolled his annoyed eyes toward Dax. “I’ll personally pay to have it built.”
“No thanks,” Dax said, his arms folded as he looked at my dad.
“I still owe Dax a lot of hours. That’s not fair to exchange that for something else.”
“Well, I told the judge you’ve been spending plenty of time with him, so I was pretty certain you’d maxed out your hours.”
“You had no right.”
“You’re doing it, Ivy. Pack your bags because your plane leaves on Monday.” He took a step toward me, teeth bared. “I didn’t pay for the last 8 years of college so you could throw it all away for the town mechanic.”
“Dad—“ I began, my body filling with rage.
“No,” my dad said. “You have a career and a life that is nowhere near this island. You are not going to waste it here.” He stepped back toward the door, saying firmly once more, “Three days. Then you’re on a plane to become the professor I paid for you to be.”
The door slammed shut and my week of delusion came to an abrupt end. I had a job waiting for me. People depending on me. And a dad who hated me. He had dropped his bomb and fled the scene so quickly I didn’t have time to yell all the things now circling in my head. How dare he. How dare he. The fact that he was still so much a presence in my life, dictating and controlling, always for his own good, made my fingers itch to fling and smash with rage.
“Your dad seems to think I like you way more than I actually do,” Dax said, watching me carefully.
I couldn’t even find it in me to smile.
“I gotta do some work in the garage.” He lingered, even as he spoke of leaving. His hand played with the towel hanging from his belt. “Listen, you’ve officially served all your hours for me.” He smiled with a sweetness that broke me. “I’ll tell the judge you’re good to go.”
Then he walked into his garage, closing the door between us.
I stood staring at the mess of Legos I’d created. A numbness began to spread over my body, officially killing any sense of loyalty or respect I’d tried to have for the senator in my life. What had it all been for? So I could spend years of my life in therapy and still be stuck in the same endless mind games? Being twenty-eight years old and still never measuring up to his impossible standards? To the standards he holds for everyone but himself.
I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I wanted to act without thought—without feeling. And suddenly, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. What I needed to do.
I strode toward the door separating his garage from the lobby and flung it open, Dax and I both jumping as it smashed against the wall.
“You’ve got to stop doing th?—“
“Is your car drivable?” My voice came out strong and sure. Because I was sure—about this, anyway. I might not be exactly sure about my immediate future, but I was going to earn my hours from Dax.
However I had to do it.
A slow smile, sweet and reminiscent of something a bit more reckless, crossed his face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”