Deep Blue (Blue Series) (18 page)

“Well, there are exceptions.” She sweeps a lock of gold-red hair from my eyes. “So, you lost your job, your boyfriend, and you don’t want to go to the school you’ve worked half your life to get into. Have I got it all?”

“Shit, Mom. Do you need to spell it out like that?”

“Language, sister,” she scolds, which is as hypocritical as it gets. Mom is where I got my potty mouth.

I frown. “There’s one more thing to add to the list. I’m not sure, but … there’s something going on with Gen.”

Mom leans back like she’s farsighted. “She okay?”

“I don’t know. She’s been keeping things from me. I just found out Eric hit on her while we were dating. She was kind of a mess at the time. She said she didn’t tell me because she was worried I would think she led him on. I had told her things were great between me and Eric when they really weren’t.”

Mom takes a bite of the eggs cooling on her plate and I glance at my own. No one makes cheesy eggs like my mom. They’re the perfect comfort food.

“Cali, it sounds like she was caught in the middle and didn’t want to lose your friendship.”

I spear a forkful of cheese heaven. “I know, but—” Mom sips her coffee, then sets the mug down, waiting. “—she was with Jaeger and he was holding her, and Mom, it made me sick,” I say in a rush.

“Jaeger? The boy your brother was frien—”

“Yes, yes.” I shovel the eggs into my mouth.

“Uh-huh. Okay. So you’re with Jaeg now.”

“No, Mom! This is not about my love life.”

Mom pushes her plate across the table toward the sink. “Are you sure? Sounds like there’s something going on there.”

“This is about
trust
. I don’t know who to trust. Gen told me she wasn’t seeing Jaeger, even though they went out, and then I found him holding her after I discovered she lied to me about Eric.”

“And you don’t trust yourself with your future. I think I’m getting the picture.” She scrubs the dishes in the sink—no dishwasher in her new digs. She places my toast on a napkin and steals my empty plate. “What about Jaeg. Do you trust him?”

I press a finger to the napkin, picking up toast crumbs and licking them off. “I want to. A part of me panicked when I saw them together. It’s partly why I came here.” It was the main reason at the time—that and Drake scaring me—but I’m not saying that to Mom. “There’s something going on. I guess I’m afraid it’s not going to be good. I should talk to Jaeger, but I’m so messed up, Mom, you know? He’s this accomplished artist with tons of money and I lost my shitty casino job. If I give in to my reservations about a law career, I can add grad school dropout to the list.”

My mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, the drama. You can’t be a dropout if you haven’t attended. Figure out what you want and don’t worry what anyone thinks. Your brother and I will support your decision. We’d rather see you do something you love than something you hate. Have you any idea how difficult you are to live with when you’re not happy?”

“Mom!”

“It’s the truth. You’re a very passionate person, sweetheart.” My face flames. The last thing I want is for my mom to talk about me and passion in the same sentence. “You can either be passionately pissed off, or passionate about something that makes you happy. It’s your choice.”

One of my biggest worries was that my mom would be disappointed if I didn’t attend Harvard or some other brilliant law school, but she’s acting surprisingly cool about the whole thing. This should make me feel better. It does. I just don’t want to end up a loser by not going. Most new college grads struggle to find jobs, often winding up at Starbucks making minimum wage. Okay, I don’t know that for a fact, but it’s a fear.

That afternoon, Tyler and I stretch out on aluminum patio chairs in the backyard while Mom mans the barbecue. This is normal protocol in my family. Mom cooks and Tyler and I eat. Neither of us knows how to boil water. It’s extremely hot that Jaeger cooks, and self-preserving on my part to date him. Perks aside, I care for him and want to believe I misinterpreted what I saw. Given my state of mind over Gen at the time, I probably did, but I’m not ready to look into it. Fear is a fickle bitch.

I dig a scooped chip into the dip and load as much salsa as possible to piss my brother off. He frowns, hastily dumping more salsa from the jar into the bowl. “If we run out, you’re making a store run.”

Bulls-eye. Point one to Cali.

I study the chip in my hand. “Tyler, do you think I’m artsy?”

He chews a double-decker salsa-chip sandwich. “Sure. You make those sketches.”

“Doodles …”

If I don’t draw, I get grumpy. The doodles are my therapy, but I never thought about doing it for a living until Jaeger said I was talented. Artists are poor, right? Well, except Jaeger. He seems to be doing okay, which is a shocker.

Makes me wonder, though … if I got into an art program, could I do something with it? I’d have to moonlight in town to take art classes during the day. It’s not the worst idea.

Mom rotates the chicken kebabs on her rusted barbecue. She’s wearing a V-neck T-shirt and turquoise shorts. Her pale legs look pretty darn toned for her forty-eight years. She tucks a lock of flame-red hair behind her ear. “Have you thought any more about what you want to do, Cali?”

We’ve been talking about Tahoe and jobs all day. After Tyler woke, I mentioned the reservations I have regarding school. He shrugged and said I should do what I want, so no help there.

“I enjoy the company and all,” Mom says, “but you’ll have to make a decision soon. You can stay with me, but I doubt Carson has more to offer than Lake Tahoe. What is it you really want?”

She sets the barbecue tongs on the handle of the grill and plops into the chair beside me. She tugs my shoulders around so that my back faces her, and she begins braiding my hair. It’s our silent ritual. Mom says it relaxes her, but it downright puts me to sleep.

“I’m not going to law school, Mom.” There, I’ve said it. I’m making it official. It was probably official the moment I told her I didn’t want to go, but this is definitive. I don’t know why this big decision now, with a tenuous love life and my livelihood and friendship in the toilet, but I’m taking a leap of faith it will all work out. Mom’s hands still, and I look over my shoulder. “Are you disappointed? You said you wouldn’t be.”

She shakes her head and scoots closer. “No, I’m not disappointed. Turn back around.” I do as she says, and she starts braiding again. “Tyler isn’t the medical doctor I envisioned the day he came home in sixth grade and rattled off the name of every bone in the human body, but he’s teaching biology and living somewhere that makes him happy.”

Tyler shifts. I wonder what he’s not telling. There’s a story behind his long visit.

“I want that for you, sweetheart,” Mom continues. “Trust me when I say you won’t be happy working at the casinos for the rest of your life.” From the corner of my eye, I see her shoulders rise and fall. “Do I feel a sense of panic when you say you’ll be staying on at the lake? Yes. It’s beautiful, but the lifestyle in that town can be crude. People come looking for utopia and wind up broke with an STD and a drug addiction.”

My lip curls. “Gross, Mom.”

“It’s the truth.”

I think about Drake and some of the other people I’ve worked with. She’s totally right. The casinos attract people looking to make quick money, not all of them trustworthy or moral.

“You’re capable of so much more, but if you don’t want to go to Harvard, then you shouldn’t.” She swings the end of the braid over my shoulder and stands. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone in this life. As long as there is air in my lungs, I’m here for you.” She bends and kisses my forehead, her perfume and the soft feel of her lips a balm to my frayed nerves.

I spend the next couple of days at my mom’s kitchen counter using my laptop to research art and design classes in Lake Tahoe. The more I think about pursuing art, the more right it feels. Jaeger put the bug in my ear during our hike at Fallen Leaf Lake, and if I think back, Gen nudged me a time or two about my drawings as well, but I never took her seriously—I wasn’t ready.

I’m ready now.

Once I knocked down the walls of the narrow corridor that was the road to my future, possibilities opened up. Options I never considered, but that were probably always there, waiting to be nurtured. What better time to try something new than when you have nothing to lose?

I texted Gen when I first arrived to tell her I’d be away, but I haven’t contacted Jaeger. He’s called several times and left three messages. I haven’t returned a single one. A confrontation needs to happen, but I have to figure myself out first.

By the time Tyler and I return to the lake, I have pages of information on classes and informational phone interviews lined up with a couple of local artists. I know zilch about what it takes to make a living in this field. I’m hoping that talking to other artists will help. I could talk to Jaeger, but yeah, that’s not going to happen. Not with things where they stand. He and I have other stuff to talk about first. But I can’t go there until I’m strong enough.

I’ve been sketching like crazy. Now that I’ve delved into it, I wish I’d considered a creative art career a long time ago. It still scares the shit out of me. Art doesn’t require a scholarly predisposition, which is what I’ve relied on to get ahead. Art is about creativity and imagination. A career in this field is a leap of faith that could make me truly happy—or could land me flat on my face. But considering that my nose has had an up close and personal view of the gutter, thanks to my ex-boyfriend and Blue Casino, how much worse can life get?

Since my brother and I have been back, Gen and I have cordially avoided each other the last couple days. Neither of us has mentioned the argument we had before I left, and I haven’t asked her why she was in Jaeger’s arms at the casino. Gen hasn’t been the most forthcoming when it comes to Jaeger; I think it’s best to talk to him first.

Nearly a week since I fled the casino after seeing Gen in Jaeger’s arms—I muster up the nerve to visit him.

I make two wrong turns and find the correct driveway on the third try. The particulars of Jaeger’s house’s location from that one visit are vague, but I was too chicken to ask Mason for directions. Didn’t want Mason to give Jaeger a heads-up and a reason to refuse me after I’ve avoided him for a week.

I’m in luck. His truck is in the driveway.

My heart speeds up and my hands shake. I’m usually good with confrontation, but facing Jaeger has me scared. I may have misinterpreted what I saw going on between him and Gen at the casino, but there’s also a chance I’ll get my heart broken. It’s that potential outcome that has my nerves in a bundle.

I ease Tyler’s old Land Cruiser beside Jaeger’s truck and step out, gulping in the pine and earth scent, grounding myself. It’s late afternoon and the sun is low in the sky, casting shadows around the front yard. A beam of light shoots past the swing where Jaeger kissed me.

My heart thumps hard as I jog up the front steps to his house and knock on the door. I pull my hair back and twist it behind my neck and out of my face. After a long pause, I knock again. I gingerly lean over the porch and peer in the window. The living room is dim and lifeless.

His car is here, but where is he?

Irrationally, I glance and confirm Jaeger’s truck sits in the drive. The buzz of insects and birds had blurred other sounds when I first exited the Land Cruiser, my ears ringing from the noise of Tyler’s beater, but now I notice a soft hum coming from the woodshop. He’s working?

I make my way around the side of the house and across the pavers. The sound of a machine stirring the air grows louder.

I’m not surprised when no one answers my knock, with the machine running inside. He can’t hear with that racket going on, so I twist the knob and carefully push open the door.

Jaeger’s back is to me. He’s in blue jeans and a plain T-shirt that fits loosely around his waist, hugging the muscles in his back and arms. He’s working with something that looks like a giant sewing machine with a saw instead of a needle. Attention focused, his gloved hands carefully maneuver the wood in front of him.

The urge to run to him and wrap my arms around his back overwhelms me. I want to smell and touch him and be close. But I don’t know where we stand or what I witnessed at the casino. It’s enough to watch. Plus, I don’t want him to cut off a finger. Lunging at him while he’s operating a saw probably isn’t the best idea.

Jaeger shuts off the machine, squats to adjust something under the table, and brushes wood shavings from his head. They fall like snow, and I wonder if that’s the point of keeping his hair short.

The air in the shop smells of burnt wood and a faint hint of Jaeger’s aftershave. I breathe in deeply and he stills. He pushes clear protective glasses to the top of his head and turns.

“Hey,” I say.

Expression blank, he doesn’t move for a moment, seemingly stunned to see me here. Slowly, he pulls off his gloves and tucks them into his back pocket, his eyes darkening.

I move a few steps toward him. “I’ve been out of town. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I—I needed—”

He looks down my body, and reverence, appreciation, crosses his face, cutting off whatever lame excuse I was about to give. His gaze stops on my mouth, a look of hunger sending heated signals to my womb and breasts.

My eyes widen. How does he do that? Against all rational thought, I want to spring at him and kiss him all over.

Jaeger rubs his forehead and leans against the table.

“I had to figure some things out,” I finish, crossing my arms defensively.

He follows the motion, his gaze in line with my breasts, taking their leisurely time back to my face. Naughty, naughty boy—putting dirty thoughts in my mind. Okay—truth—they were already there.

Stay on track!
“I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

He gives his head a quick shake. “What?”

God, his deep rumbly voice.
Focus!
“I saw you with Gen,” I say in a rush. “At the casino. You were holding her.”

Jaeger’s brows furrow and he peers down, unfocused, as if thinking. “When?”