Awaken Me (The Jaded Series Book 4) (18 page)

“That’s just it. She normally had terrible taste.” He chuckles for a moment, looking lost in a memory, before shaking his head. “But I think with this, she was right. The dark wood will look great against the white.”

“Will you tell me more about Anna?” I ask softly, and edge closer to him.

His body jerks, and I know I’ve gone too far. The look in his eyes when he swings them my way says I’ve managed to anger him again. I want to bang my head against the damn railing. I should have known better.

“I’d prefer not to talk about her with you. Why don’t you go back in the house and let me do my work.”

His words are harsh and my stomach twists in knots.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He slices his hand through the air.

“Please just go, Chris. I’m trying my hardest here to be as nice as possible. I didn’t sleep last night, so I’m not in the best of moods. You bringing up something that’s painful is just going to bring out the asshole in me again. I’m trying to avoid that. Go inside before my best intentions fly out the window.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again and rush inside.

I thought being around him might help. Thought that if he had someone around constantly that cared, it would make him see there’re people out there who still need him. Who want to see him happy and would like to help him reach that happy place again. And sometimes I think it does help. But other times I wonder if it’s useless. Am I wasting my time here? You have to want the help for it to actually work. He doesn’t seem to want to get better. It’s almost as if he wants to stay in his dark place. But who would want that? Who would choose that over living in the light?

Feeling sadder and more defeated than I ever have before, I walk with slumped shoulders to the kitchen. The coffeepot is half-full and still warm, so I make myself a cup and sit at the bar while I drink it. Maybe I’ll call Jaxon today and tell him it’s over. I’ve tried and tried and I don’t know what else I can do. He offered to bring my car over a couple days ago, but I told him no. Having it here would make it easier for Nick to send me away. I know that’s drastic, but I did what I thought was best. Now I’m not so sure.

My phone rings in the living room, so I get up to answer it. Looking at the screen, I roll my eyes. It’s my mom. As much as I don’t want to talk to her, I know I have to. She’s relentless and will continue to call if I don’t answer.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, I bring the phone to my ear, gripping it tightly in my hand.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Christabelle. How are you?” I grit my teeth, her voice grating on my nerves. I love my mom, but I still can’t stand her. After all the shit she’s put Jase through recently, she and dad aren’t my favorite people right now. My mom isn’t as bad as my dad, but she hasn’t done anything to put a stop to his behavior toward Jase.

“I’m fine, Mom. How are you and Dad?”

I look down at my hand in my lap when I feel a dull pain. It’s no surprise when I find my hand clenched tightly into a fist. I straighten my fingers and see half-moon impressions in my palm.

“We’re both good. The church is finally getting the upgrade they need, so we’ve been busy with that.” She turns quiet for a minute. I stay silent, waiting for her to continue. “I was actually calling to see when you were coming for a visit. Your dad and I miss you.”

Her question just pisses me off even more. There’s no mention of Jase coming to visit. Instead of answering, I ask one of my own, already knowing the answer.

“Have you talked to Jase?” My tone is harder than I intended. I can’t help it. It seems the more I talk to either my mom or dad, the angrier I get at them.

I hear a sigh across the line. I’ve asked this question every time I’ve talked to her since Jase came to town. And the answer is always the same.

“No, I haven’t,” she says, resignation in her voice. “Please don’t start on me, Christabelle. You know your dad’s still upset over Jase’s… recent news.”

“Well he needs to fucking get over it. And that’s bullshit and you know it, Mom,” I tell her sharply. “Dad’s had it out for Jase for years. His revealing his sexual preference is just the icing on the cake. Why can’t you both just accept him the way he is? Why does it have to be your way?”

“First, watch your language, young lady,” my mother scolds me, making me grit my teeth even harder. “And you know that’s not true, honey. We love Jase. It’s just hard on your dad. He had such high expectations for him, and then Jase ended up so different than he expected. Your dad feels like he let him down somehow. That he failed as a father.”

I laugh at her, but there’s no humor in the sound. She actually has the nerve to turn the tables around and make this about our dad.

Unbelievable.

“And how do you think Jase feels? He’s the one who has had to put up with Dad looking down his nose at him for years. And you, you don’t do a damn thing to make it better. You don’t stand up for him. No, you’re not as condescending as Dad, but you’re still just as bad because you let him treat Jase like shit. People don’t just all of a sudden wake up one day and say ‘oh, I think I’ll be gay.’ People are born that way. They can’t help the way their hearts and minds work, Mom. He’s kept that from you for years and now he’s being punished for following his heart. What would you and Dad have done if Pops said y’all couldn’t be together when you were younger? Would you have listened? No, you wouldn’t have, because your love was uncontrollable. The same applies to Jase’s situation. You haven’t even called him to see if he’s okay after he was shot! What kind of parents are y’all to not want to know if he’s okay? He almost died and neither of you seem to care. And you claim to love him?”

I’m breathing hard by the time I’m done. I’m so upset tears gather in my eyes. I normally don’t raise my voice to my parents. I’ve always been the quiet daughter. But there are times I can’t hold it in. I’ve witnessed the shit Jase has put up with for too long. The straw that broke the camel’s back is them not calling to inquire about Jase’s health.

My mom sobs across the line, and I know I’ve upset her, but I don’t feel any remorse at my outburst. Something’s got to change or they’ll end up losing both their kids.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers tearfully. “You’re right. I’ve been a terrible mother.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Jase is the one that needs to hear it.”

“I will. And I’ll talk to your dad.” She sniffs before she asks tentatively, “How is he?”

“He’s good, Mom. The wounds healed. But you should call and ask
him
that. He’s happy here. The guy he’s with is wonderful. His name is Andrew. I think you’d like him if you give him a chance.”

“That’s good,” she breathes. “I hope I get to meet him one day.”

“That’s up to you and Dad. You need to call him. Before it’s too late. A person can only take so much rejection before they give up. Please don’t let that happen.”

It’s not lost on me that my words apply to my own situation. There’s no doubt I care for Nick, but a heart can only handle so much pain before it’s broken beyond repair.

My mom’s voice cracks when she speaks again. I hope my words have given her the reality check she and my dad both need.

“I won’t. I’ll make your dad see reason. Maybe we can take a trip up there.”

“I hope so, Mom. Something’s got to give,” I tell her honestly.

“I know it does. I’ll make things right. I promise.”

I hope she does, and I pray it’s not too late.

We talk for a few more minutes. Our conversation is easier than it has been for a while. My mom’s assurance she’ll talk to my dad helps alleviate some of my hostility toward them. I have no idea if it’ll work or not, but I’m glad she’s going to try. I tell my mom about my job at the school here. She seems genuinely happy for me.

I get up from the couch when we get off the phone. Movement out the corner of my eye catches my attention. When I turn, Nick is standing on the other side of the window, looking in at me. His expression is hard, and I wonder how much he’s heard. My raised voice must have alerted him.

I turn my back to him and walk to the kitchen to straighten up the small mess from last night’s dinner.

It only takes me a few minutes until I’m done. I decide to wash the few dirty clothes I’ve accumulated since being here. There’s not enough to make a full load. Remembering the clothes on Nick’s bedroom floor, I decide to grab those and throw them in with mine.

I only waver a second before pushing the door open and grabbing them. It’s only clothes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I washed them. Everyone needs their clothes cleaned, don’t they?

Once that’s done, I have nothing to do. I’m hesitant to do much else, worried he won’t like me going through his house. I take a seat and decide to watch some TV while the clothes wash.

The banging from Nick working makes it hard to keep my mind off him. On the one hand, I’m glad he’s finally taking on the task of repairing the house. On the other hand, I wish he was inside with me. My time here is almost over, and as much as I know I haven’t really helped him like I hoped, I’d still like to spend as much time with him as possible. He’s been decent to me part of the time, something I’m not used to. I’m worried things will go back to the way they were before I got here.

I find a movie on the Lifetime channel about a woman who has breast cancer. It’s about her life and all the complications the illness causes for her and her family. The movie ends well, but still has me crying by the time it’s over.

I go to the bathroom to wash my face before making something for lunch. Leaving the door open, I turn the cold water on and cup some in my hand. After drying my face, I look in the mirror, scrunch up my nose, and push my lips out in the awful duck face.

“Why do you do that?” comes Nick’s voice, scaring the shit out of me.

I jump and whirl around to face him. Clutching my heaving chest, I tell him, “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

He’s in the doorway with his arms raised, his hands latched to the top of the doorframe. He’s looking at me with raised brows, waiting on my answer.

“That’s the second time I’ve seen you making faces at yourself. Why do you do it?”

I shrug and turn from him to hang the towel back on the ring beside the sink. Him catching me at my silly habit is embarrassing.

“I don’t know. I just do. Life can be so serious. We all need to be silly sometimes to break up the solemnity of it. That’s my way of doing that. I’ve done it since I was a kid.”

When I face him again, he’s dropped his arms and is now leaning against the frame.

“You look like a little kid when you do it,” he says.

For a moment I think I’m seeing things, but the longer I look at him, the more I realize I’m not. There’s a twinkle in his eyes and his lips look like they’re twitching. It causes my own lips to curl up slightly. It’s moments like these that make me not want to give up on him. It may be wishful thinking on my part, but I can’t help but hope anyway.

“Come try it,” I suggest, motioning my hand to the mirror.

He looks momentarily surprised, before responding, “Uh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on.” I pout at him.

His lips tip up at the corners more, revealing a gorgeous smile as he shakes his head. In a bold move, I reach over and grab his shirt and give it a pull. He lets me tug him in front of the mirror. I turn so we’re shoulder to shoulder. We both look at each other in the mirror.

I stick out my tongue at him. He chuckles, making flutters form in my stomach.

“Okay. Your turn,” I say expectantly.

He looks at himself, then at me again. At first I don’t think he’ll do it, but then he surprises me when he crosses his eyes and sucks his cheeks in. He looks utterly ridiculous and cute at the same time. I can’t help but burst out laughing at the silly look.

“I look fucking stupid,” he grumbles, once I calm my laughing. His lips are still quirked up, still watching me in the mirror. I love that look on his face. It almost makes him look boyish.

“No, you don’t. You look cute,” I tease playfully.

All too soon, the look fades from his face when he says, “I heard you on the phone earlier. Everything okay?”

My smile disappears. Even though I already knew he’d heard, I hate that he did. I’m surprised he’s standing here asking me about it. After the way he acted today, I figured he’d be a grouch for the rest of the day. But then again, I’m constantly being surprised by him.

“Yeah. It was just my mom. We’ve not seen eye to eye lately. But hopefully that’s going to change.”

He nods and leans back against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s good that you stood up to her like that.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t happen often, but if pushed enough I’ve been known to voice my opinion. What they’ve done to Jase has gone on long enough.”

“And what about you? What about all the neglect over the years toward you?”

I shrug and play with the hem of my shirt. I’m not really concerned about myself.

“I’m used to it. It’s no big deal now. It’s Jase I’m worried about. It was he who took the brunt of my dad’s anger. They neglected us both, but it was worse for him because when he did show us attention it was to put Jase down for something or other.”

His forehead crinkles with his frown. “Don’t do that. Don’t discount your own pain. Jase may have had it worse than you, but it doesn’t make your own situation any less important.”

I don’t know what to say to him. What he says is true. Jase did take on more shit from our parents, but the pain of neglect from the two people who were supposed to be there more than anyone else, hurt. But I still feel like the rift between him and our parents is bigger and needs more work than my own issues.

“How’s the porch coming along?” I ask, changing the subject.

He twists his head back and forth, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, like he has a crick there. I want to offer to massage the knot out, but I know that wouldn’t go over well.

“It’s going. I’ve got about half the front done. I’m hoping to finish up there and start on one of the sides before it gets too late. I was just taking a break to grab something to drink.”