“Time to scatter!” Dad says, ducking away from the window and pushing himself up from the couch. Taking his beer with him, he shifts around the coffee table toward Mom and gently reaches for her hand, pulling her to her feet. Mom’s expression is teasing as the two of them head for the door, and Dad says over his shoulder, “We’ll be hiding in the kitchen.”
As they disappear out of sight, I quickly give myself a once- over in the huge mirror that’s hanging on the wall behind me. I run my fingers through the ends of my hair, check the lipstick on my lips hasn’t smudged, and then rush out into the hall, headed for the front door. I don’t want Jaden to have to knock, because that feels too formal, so I abruptly swing the door open.
Jaden is only a few steps away from reaching the porch and his face lights up with a smile when he sees me. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that don’t have rips in them and a white shirt, though it’s not buttoned all the way up. The heavier top half of his hair is perfectly gelled and styled into a slight quiff again, and he stops directly in front of me on the porch, blue eyes capturing mine. “Hey, Kenz.”
“You know you didn’t have to wear a shirt,” I point out. I do like the fact that it’s clear he has made an effort for meeting my parents tonight, but he really didn’t have to.
“I wanted to look respectable,” Jaden says. He puffs out his chest and pretends to smooth out the creases on his shirt, then exhales, allowing his shoulders to slump back down again. “Besides,” he whispers as he takes a step closer, smoldering his eyes at me, “you’ll get to tear it off me later.”
My knees feel weak, but I quickly swat him away with my hand. “Jaden!” I don’t remember him being as confident as this a year ago. He was always more reserved before, or at least more subtle, but I have to remind myself of what he told me not too long ago, about not wasting time. If there’s something on his mind, he’ll say it. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. However, there are some exceptions, and I’m quick to remind him by saying, “Please don’t repeat that in front of my dad.”
“Repeat what?” Dad echoes, and I instantly flinch, spinning my head around to look at him. He walks down the hall toward us, gesturing us inside. Thankfully, he just cracks a grin. “Stop hovering by the door and come on in!”
I step back and pull the door open wider, encouraging Jaden to come into the house. He steps in, flashing Dad his best smile. It’s more charming than his usual playful, crooked one, and I like it just as much, if not more.
“Hello, Jaden,” Dad says. The tone of his voice is slightly off when he’s trying too hard to play it cool. He steps forward to shake Jaden’s hand. “It’s great to meet you.” Jokingly, he adds, “Again.”
Jaden laughs and firmly shakes Dad’s extended hand. “You too, Mr. Rivers.”
“It’s just Howard,” Dad tells him, patting him on the shoulder. “Now I hope you’re hungry, because the food is ready.” With his hand still on Jaden’s shoulder, he guides him down the hall, leaving me to trail along behind them both. Jaden doesn’t seem to notice Grace’s frame as he passes the hall table, but I’m not surprised. Most people never do.
In the kitchen, the table is set with four placemats and Mom is drifting between counter, trying to dish up the food. When the three of us walk in, she takes a minute to pause and turn around, plastering a wide smile onto her face. Her gaze falls on Jaden. “Hello!” she says. “Isn’t it nice to have you back here again?”
I’m quick to notice that in the past few minutes she’s poured herself a glass of wine, which sits on the counter behind her. It’s unsurprising. This week has been rough, and now she’s pouring glasses out of habit rather than for comfort, but I’m not going to point this out. She seems relatively happy today, so I don’t expect her to have any breakdowns tonight.
“Yeah,” Jaden agrees with a nod. Although he is smiling, I do catch his eyes move and I realize he’s spotted the glass of wine too. “Thank you for having me.”
“Our pleasure,” Mom says. “Now have a seat!”
Jaden glances sideways at me and I reach for the cuff of his sleeve, brushing my thumb over the warm skin of the back of his hand. Now that he’s here, blue eyes and bright smile and all, I don’t feel as nervous as I did before; however, I can’t help but be aware of that damn glass of wine. It’s going to irritate me for the rest of the evening, but for now I push it to the back of my mind and try my hardest to ignore it as I lead Jaden over to the table.
“You’re sitting next to me.” I wink as I run the tips of my fingers under the sleeve of Jaden’s shirt and over his wrist, batting my eyelashes at him. I slide down into my usual seat and pull him into the one next to me, touching my knee to his under the table. “Aren’t you lucky?”
Jaden’s grin widens. He scoots his chair closer to the table, places his hand on my knee, and mouths, “Yes.”
“So,” Dad says, walking over to the table with plates in his hands as he helps Mom dish up the food. They’re loaded with fries and huge homemade burgers overflowing with fillings—Mom’s signature meal—and Dad sets the plates down in front of Jaden and me. “I hear you guys won the game on Friday night.”
“Yeah, we did,” Jaden tells him, his hand still on my knee beneath the table. “We were playing Grand Junction, and they didn’t stand a chance.”
Dad returns to the table again, this time with his and Mom’s plates, and he sinks down into the chair opposite me. “Are you planning on playing college football?”
“No,” Jaden answers, shaking his head. With a small shrug he admits, “I’m not that serious about it. I just love tackling people.”
Mom joins us at the table then and, of course, she carries with her the freshly poured glass of wine. She sits down on the seat next to Dad and places the glass on the table, though she doesn’t let go of it. It’s as though she’s afraid it’ll disappear out of her sight. “Tackling people? Should I be worried?”
I’m watching Jaden out of the corner of my eye. He quickly shakes his head and laughs again. “No, it’s not like that. I love tackling people, not hurting them. It’s just a great stress-reliever.”
Mom nods in agreement. “I can imagine,” she says. “Gotta let off some steam somehow.” Her grip on the glass tightens as she raises it to her lips and takes a sip. Most people wouldn’t even notice, let alone give it a second thought, but I do. And Dad does. And I think Jaden does. And none of us can do anything but frown. I’m relieved when Mom sets the glass back down again and smiles, glancing around the table at the three of us. “Anyway, eat up!”
Jaden’s touch on my knee disappears as he straightens up and reaches for his cutlery. I don’t like having him right next to me but not feeling his body against mine, so I scoot my chair a few inches closer to his and place my hand on his thigh. With a fry in his mouth, he tilts his head down and studies my expression out of the corner of his eye, but I only smirk down at my food. I don’t move my hand, and it feels secret and exciting with my parents sitting directly opposite us.
“So, which colleges are you thinking of applying to, Jaden?” Dad asks, and it kicks off an entire discussion about the colleges Jaden has already applied to and the ones he’s thinking of applying to, and of course, my parents subtly reminding me that I still need to decide.
Even with Jaden here, I dig into my food. Life is too short to worry about getting sauce on the side of my mouth in front of the boy I like, though I don’t focus on Jaden all that much, because I’m concentrating on monitoring Mom’s wine consumption throughout dinner. I keep witnessing her take sip after sip, and halfway through eating she rises from the table to fetch what she says is more salt. Only she brings back more than just the salt to the table; she brings back the bottle of wine and fills up her empty glass.
“Kenzie said the two of you took your father’s boat out on the lake yesterday,” Dad says, glancing up from his plate to look at Jaden with wary eyes. I wish Dad knew that he doesn’t have to be cautious around Jaden, or watch his
words, or tiptoe around subjects.
Jaden stops eating, swallows and then nods back across the table to Dad. “Yeah, we did. It had been sitting in the corner of the driveway for way too long, and Kenzie reminded me that my parents would have wanted us to use it.”
Dad’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. I don’t know why, but when he looks at me, I’m certain there’s pride flickering across his eyes. I wish I could offer my parents advice the way I can offer it to Jaden. “She did, did she?”
“Yeah,” Jaden says. Lips curving into a smile, he turns his head to look at me while he drops one hand below the table. A moment later, I feel his hand on my leg, running from my knee to my thigh. “Thanks, Kenz,” he says, and then fixates his eyes back on my parents, though his hand remains where it is.
Both Mom and Dad are watching us closely, and Mom pushes her cleared plate away from her so that she can rest her elbows on the table. The glass of wine is in her hands, hovering by her lips, half empty already.
“I’m trying to do things my parents would want me to do,” Jaden admits quietly, slowly rubbing his hand over my thigh in circles. “They’d want me to be nice to people. They’d want me to do well in school. They’d want me to look out for my sister. They’d want me to treat Kenzie right. They’d want me to live my life. They’d want me to be happy.” Jaden pauses, leaving silence to fill the air as he glances back and forth between Mom and Dad. His gaze is soft, but somehow there’s an intensity to it that I can’t quite figure out, and it finally comes to rest on Mom. Jaden meets her eyes, and he parts his lips and asks, “The people we lose in life wouldn’t want us to be unhappy, would they?”
Mom leans back against her chair, presses the glass of wine to her lips and exchanges a knowing glance with Dad. A new panic fills me and I try to catch Jaden’s eye, but he won’t look at me. I need him to stop, because whether he knows it or not, his words make sense to us too.
“No,” Dad finally answers, tearing his eyes away from Mom so that he can look back at Jaden. “They wouldn’t,” he agrees, though he mumbles his words.
Mom looks on edge now and she tilts the glass of wine against her lips again, promptly finishing the glass off with one gulp. Exhaling, she shakes her head, clearly affected by Jaden’s words. Grace wouldn’t want us to be unhappy, and she knows that.
Already two glasses of wine down, Mom’s mood has plummeted quickly. She’s no longer as bubbly and upbeat as she was when Jaden first arrived, and over the course of dinner, she’s gradually become more morose. But she clearly can’t see the difference, because she roughly sets the empty glass down on the table in front of her and snatches the bottle of wine. With her face set in a scowl, she unscrews the cap and begins to pour. We all watch. None of us dare to say a word, and I am grateful when Jaden clears his throat and continues talking. “So yeah,” he says with a small shrug, as though he’s struggled to articulate what he means. “It’s not to say I don’t miss them. I miss them so much. Every day. But there’s no point wasting my life being unhappy, because what good would that do? My parents wouldn’t want me to sit around moping, like Grace wouldn’t want you to sit around drinki—” He immediately cuts himself off and turns pale with horror.
My mouth falls open in disbelief. Mom releases a sharp gasp as her eyes go wild, and she looks as stunned as I do, if not more. Furious, I grab Jaden’s hand and throw it off my thigh. My chair loudly screeches against the kitchen flooring when I abruptly angle myself to face him, everything inside of me erupting with rage. I told Jaden the truth because I trusted him, and now he has only gone and put his foot in it. I grit my teeth and hiss, “What the hell?”
“Excuse me?” Dad says through stiff lips, his voice low and rumbling. Almost in slow motion, he presses his hands down flat against the table and pushes himself up to his feet, rising tall until he towers over all of us. He steps closer to Mom, protecting her behind his height as her lips begin to tremble.
Jaden’s expression twists with panic as he tilts his chin up to look at Dad. He is silent for a second, and then he looks back over to me. Suddenly, there is guilt in his cool blue eyes, but he doesn’t stare at me for too long, because his gaze flickers back over to Mom. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Mrs. Rivers. I really didn’t mean to say that. Kenzie told me,” he stutters, pointing to the bottle of wine on the table in front of her. I feel paralyzed in my seat as I watch him push his chair back and stand. He is digging himself into an even bigger hole, and now he is dragging me down with him. The look of betrayal my parents give me is hard to ignore. Jaden presses his hands to the edge of the table and clears his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances down at me in panic once more, then back to Mom. “She . . . she’s just worried about you. And that wine isn’t going to make you feel better. You might think that it does, but I don’t think . . . ” He is stumbling all over his own words, and despite his obvious horrified alarm, I am furious at him right now. What the hell is he thinking? He pauses to catch his breath and he shakes his head, almost as though he can’t believe what he has just said. “God, I’m so sorry, I—”
Mom lets out a muffled sob and bursts into tears, and that’s all it takes for the rage in me to explode. I jump to my feet, knocking over my chair, and push my hands hard into Jaden’s chest, shoving him back a few steps. “LEAVE!” I scream. My voice rings out around the entire house and my cheeks are burning red with anger. My body is trembling.
Jaden’s eyes meet mine, exasperated. Quickly, he tries to reach for my wrist, but I push him away again. “Kenz—”
“Leave, Jaden!” I yell, pointing toward the front door. I’m breathing heavily now. I don’t lose my temper often and it’s rare that I’ll raise my voice, but he’s crossed the line here. No one gets to talk down to my mom like that. No one gets to reduce my mom to tears. Jaden is no exception, no matter how badly I am falling for him.
When Jaden still doesn’t budge, Dad moves around the kitchen table and grabs him by the shoulder, his features hard and unforgiving. He casts a glance back over his shoulder at Mom as she is breaking down, and then he turns back to Jaden. “I need you to leave.”
Jaden surrenders then. He holds up his hands and meets Dad’s blazing eyes, slowly nodding once as he backs up a step, retreating toward the hall, realizing that he has done wrong. All I can hear is the sound of Mom crying behind me and the painful throbbing of my pulse, and my glare only continues to sharpen the longer Jaden is in my sight.
He tilts his head down toward the floor as he turns away from us, and his broad shoulders are slumped low as we watch him walk down our hall toward the front door. He pulls it open slowly and then freezes, angling his jaw down toward the small hall table. The atmosphere is thick with tension, and I know what he is looking at. He has spotted Grace’s frame. Carefully, he lifts his hand and lightly brushes his fingertips over the glass, over her name behind it.
Jaden glances back at me. The guilt is almost dripping from him now and I can see that he’s sorry; it’s written all over his features, it’s in his eyes. But it’s too late for apologies, because I don’t know how I will forgive him for this.
26
I am dreading school today. I’m sitting at my dressing table, mindlessly brushing my hair, still half-asleep. There are several text messages from Jaden on my phone that I have yet to open. But while it’s easy to ignore his messages, it’s a lot harder to dodge Jaden in real life.
It’s just before 7:30AM, and Will should be outside waiting for me soon. Resigned to my fate, I grab my bag and my Physics textbook, then head downstairs feeling bleary-eyed. Usually, the house is pretty quiet in the mornings. Dad’s at work and Mom sleeps in a lot. Today, however, there isn’t the usual silence. I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear the clink of a bottle echoing from the kitchen. I immediately pause, listening.
Another clink.
I stand there, stuck in limbo on the staircase as disappointment floods through me. Mom will be feeling guilty this morning whenever she thinks about Gra
ce, which only gives her another excuse to pour herself a glass or four. And that’s exactly what she’s doing now: pouring wine.
Hugging my textbook closer to my chest, I force myself to continue downstairs and toward the kitchen. I can see Mom already, hovering in front of the counter with her back to me. I creep forward, mentally preparing myself to deal with her this early in the morning, when I notice Dad sitting at the kitchen table.
“Good morning, Kenzie,” he says, glancing over to me. He’s hunched over an untouched cup of coffee and is twiddling his thumbs. He should be at work by now. And the last I knew, our pipes were fine.
Mom looks at me over her shoulder. Although she looks deflated, there’s a sense of determination in her eyes, a strength that I haven’t ever seen before. Her thin lips form a small smile and I realize then that there’s a collection of different bottles of wine on the counter in front of her. There’s a bottle already in her hand, opened, and she turns her attention back to it. Then, she leans over and promptly pours the entire bottle of wine down our sink.
“What’s going on?”
Dad straightens up in his chair and his eyes meet mine. “Jaden was out of line.”
“But he was right,” Mom finishes for him without missing a beat, spinning around to face me. She has the now empty bottle in her hand, and she drops her eyes to study it, as though now she’s only seeing it for the first time. “What he said is what I needed to hear,” she murmurs, gaze still lowered. “I didn’t like it, but it was the truth. I mean, look at this!” She motions to the bottles behind her and shakes her head, the self-defeat evident in her voice. “What would Grace say?” For once, she says her name without flinching. She grabs another bottle, unscrews the cap, and pours that down the drain too.
I blink at her in disbelief as she willingly gets rid of the one thing that has been her crutch for the past four years. I try to process what I’m seeing, but nothing is registering.