Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Lola
You can’t break into the school, Lola.
Oh yeah, who’s going to stop me?
I am.
- Conversation between Lola, age 17 and Roman, age 24
In an act of great maturity, I decide to pretend I never got the text from the unknown number.
I can’t exactly tell anyone about it without opening myself up to questions I don’t want to answer.
So, I bury my phone in my pocket and try to focus on other things, like how I’m about to ruin family dinner.
My detour to the cliffside made me late, which, you know, wasn’t a great start to the whole put-together responsible image I’m trying to create. Plus, I’ve spent every second since I got here trying to avoid meeting eyes with my mother, who sees too much, and Roman, who makes me feel too much.
I didn’t realize Roman was going to be joining us today, but I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job of pretending the ice cream cart incident simply never happened. Denial and I are good friends.
I haven’t told my parents why I decided to finally come home but I’m pretty sure my mom knows something happened because she’s been hovering like it’s a competitive sport.
I was a preemie baby though, so I’m used to her over-protectiveness.
A shrink would probably tell me it’s why I started acting out in my teens.
And maybe they’d be right, but the other reason I did stupid shit was because every time I did, Roman came to bail me out and I was young and in love and I wanted his attention.
Right now though, I really don’t want it.
I scrape my fork along the plate, pushing around the mac and cheese.
It’s my favorite side and no one makes it as good as my mom, but my stomach is churning more than it did before I bungee-jumped over the Bhote Koshi River.
Give me a 524-foot free fall over telling my family about my new business venture any day.
I have to do it now though. I’m due to start renovations on Monday and this is the one weekend Mase has off from training the new recruits.
We used to do Sunday lunch every week but since Mase joined the army and I went off traveling, Mom has trouble getting us all in one place.
Roman is the only one of us to have hung about in Pine Rock after college, running the finances for a local ranch, which gave teenage me far too many cowboy fantasies.
I can’t decide whether I crave these family times I get to spend with him or hate them. He’s sitting across from me, his strong, farm-hardened arms, spooning more mashed potatoes onto his plate. For once though, my complicated relationship with my brother’s best friend is the least of my worries.
I have a coffee shop to renovate. An apartment above it that’s really seen better days. And I’m about to have to deal with my family’s opinions, which I imagine will be about as positive as when I told them I was dropping out of college before I even started and traveling instead.
Mase kicks my socked foot under the table.
I drop my fork, the metal clattering against the plate. “What was that for?”
He gives me that suspicious big brother look I’ve seen enough times to describe it to a police sketch artist, which I may or may not have done once when I was bored after getting arrested for skinny dipping at Lovers Ridge.
“A little more on the nose. Yeah, like that. And darker brows.” I lean over the sketch pad, Tom, my new police friend is drawing on.
Tom looks from the near perfect picture of my brother to me. “And this is the guy you saw streaking at Lovers Ridge?”
I press my lips together, so I don’t burst out laughing. “Yep, that’s him,” I say just as Mase storms into the precinct, making a beeline for me.
Tom’s eyes widen, looking from the sketch to my brother, and it takes everything in me not to bust a gut. I just smile at Tom, all doe-eyed and innocent. I’m about to get the lecture from hell from Mase but I decide it was worth it.
Mase jabs me under the table again, bringing me back to the present.
“Why do you look so squirrely?” he asks.
I shovel a forkful of walnut stuffing into my cheeks. “Because I’ve got nuts in my mouth?”
Roman coughs, choking on his drink. “Jesus, Lola.”
I swallow and smirk across the table, letting my gaze linger on the dark brown scruff covering his jaw for a moment too long.
Mase points his fork at me. “I’m serious. What is it?”
I sigh and place my cutlery on the well-loved wooden table. I wipe my hands on my leggings and give myself a pep talk.
Everything is fine. You didn’t just get a threatening text. You’re no longer a traumatized teenager. And you aren’t sitting across from the man you’ve been in love with since you were twelve.
“Okay, so I have something to tell you all.” I dig my teeth into my lip, peeking over at my parents.
“More traveling?” my dad asks, picking up his beer.
“Uh, no. Actually, kind of the opposite. I’m sort of setting down roots. I want to open a coffee shop.”
My mom pauses mid-way through serving up more potatoes and my dad twists in his seat to face me.
I grip the edges of my chair. “I signed the lease on the location this morning. Technically it’s not a coffee shop yet but it’s going to be.
I’m going to make it one. I got to sample a load of different coffee beans from around the world while I was traveling and one of the baristas I met taught me about the whole process—the roasting and the bloom and extraction—and I kind of loved it so um, yeah.
” I stop rambling and press my lips together, feeling like a meerkat as I look between them.
For the longest moment no one says anything. Voices from the radio drift through from where Mom left it playing in the kitchen. I forget to breathe.
Then Mase screws up his napkin on the table and crosses his arms. “Here we go again,” he mutters.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. My eyes sting but I refuse to let any tears fall. I wait for either of my parents to tell him off but Roman’s the only one to say anything.
“Mase,” he shakes his head, “just hear her out.”
My brother’s face contorts in disdain. “No. She’s twenty-four now, when is she going to stop making impulsive decisions that do nothing but land her in trouble?”
“It’s not impulsive—” I try to explain but he cuts me off.
“We can’t keep bailing you out of every stupid whim you have.
” His words hit me in the chest, and I struggle to take my next breath.
I know my family thinks I’m a little unpredictable, but Mase’s never been quite so cruel to my face.
I look to my parents again but neither of them jump to my defense.
“Mase—” Roman starts but I cut him off. This day has officially been too much for me to handle.
“You know what? Forget it.” I push back from the table, the chair legs screeching against the floor. “I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
Finally, my mother speaks. “Sweetheart, wait. Your brother’s just worried. We all are. This whole idea seems to have come out of the blue and you turned up at home all of a sudden last month, without telling us why, and we’re just concerned.”
My dad runs a hand over his graying beard and clears his throat. “Your mom’s right, Lola. Why don’t we sit down and talk it through? There’s a cooling off period of fourteen days, you can back out of any leases. Then, if you still want to do this, we can talk it through and do it properly.”
I want to leave but shock roots me to the spot. “I’m not breaking my lease.”
Mom reaches for her necklace, her arthritic fingers fiddling with the sea glass beads.
Dad angles his chair to face me. “Yes, you are.” He fixes me with a firm look. “I know you like to be independent, but this isn’t the sort of thing you do by yourself. If you’re serious about this, then we can look at colleges again. There are some great business schools you could apply to.”
“Stop it.” The words finally dislodge from my throat. “Just stop. I’m not going to college, I’m not breaking my lease, and I’m not talking about this anymore.” I stand up, my whole body fizzing. I shake my head, trying not to look at my brother’s scowling face.
“I wanted to do this right,” I say. “I know I don’t get a lot right but I really, really tried. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment, but I’m not going to stick around and let you ruin this for me. The shop I’m leasing comes with an apartment. I’m moving out.”
My mom’s face falls. Dad just looks tired, and Mase’s gaze is scathing.
I can’t bring myself to look at Roman. I’m held together with sticky tape and stubbornness right now, I don’t think I could bear it if he was just another face that doesn’t believe in me.
“I’ve packed a bag already,” I say, staring at the driftwood decoration on the wall. Mase and I found it washed up on Surfer’s Bay one winter as kids. I love my home, I really do. But I need to get out of here.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick up the rest of my stuff.” I leave without looking back.
I know I messed up a lot as a kid. I know my parents just want to protect me, I know they love me. But love like this is suffocating.