I straighten up, blinking, holding my breath.
“What was up with her playing that song, anyway?” she asks.
He’s quiet, and my heart stills.
“You sung me that song the night you proposed, in case you’ve forgotten,” she says.
I sit up, my breathing coming faster. She’s talking about “Blue Sky.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he says, his voice dull, defeated, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
“Why is that song special to her?” she asks.
He doesn’t answer.
“Why, Mack?” she shouts.
Deep, low sobs erupt, and I know it’s him. My heart feels like it’s being sucked out of my chest by a vacuum cleaner. “I played it for her when you were gone.” His voice is high and desperate. I stand to go to him, but the silence holds me back.
“I’m done,” she says. “I said I would stay until she was eighteen, and it’s time. I’m not moving to another place with you, not when I’m taking the job with the Chattanooga symphony.”
There it is. She’s leaving. She just made it official.
This is where I say, “See ya!” I tell her I wish she never would have come back because I was better off with just Dad. I tell her she’s a fucking psycho for not loving her own child and to never contact me again as long as we live.
I step out of the bedroom. “Then let’s stay here.”
They both jolt at the sound of my voice. My mother covers her mouth, and my dad’s eyes practically pop out of his head.
“Sweetie,” he says, blinking uncontrollably through bloodshot eyes. “What are you doing here?”
I point to his pocket. “Check your phone. Landon’s hurt. Chloe and her mom went to North Carolina to see him.”
He pats his pockets and comes up empty. “I left it in Nashville. I was…distracted.”
I let out a breath. “So if we stay here, then you can stay with us, Mom. I’ll keep commuting to school. We’ll keep our efficiency in Hillsboro Village and stay there when we need to, and you can commute to Chattanooga. We’ll put everything back like it was.”
She closes her eyes, letting out an exhausted breath. “I’m sorry you heard all that.”
I hold up a hand. “But to be clear, you’re not sorry you said it…to Dad.”
She nods slowly, not meeting my gaze.
My heartbeat quickens, the cobra tightening its coil. “Got it. So, Dad, you want to head to Nashville for the night? Mom can stay here, or in Chattanooga, or wherever the hell she was planning to go.”
He holds his hand over his eyes, his whole body shaking. My mom stands still as a statue, staring at me. “I’m sorry I’m your mother.”
I nod, looking her up and down. “Well, I’m sorry about that, too.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Miles
Jenna’s been MIA since Saturday afternoon. One minute we were texting each other hearts and countdowns till the second she was living here in Nashville, and then I text her and I get nothing. I broke down and called her, and she didn’t answer the call. I was one step from driving to Cliff Ridge when I finally got a text from her that said her friend Landon was hurt.
I’ve been Googling for information about him, but there’s not a lot. He’s in stable condition, whatever that means, but I don’t know anything past that.
I leave her alone the rest of Saturday. Sunday morning I text her and ask if I can show up when the truck gets to her new place and help them move the big stuff, and she says no, that movers are handling it. It’s not like I wanted to move heavy furniture. I just wanted to see her. But from the mood of her texts, that’s not an option today.
When she doesn’t show up for school on Monday, I’m really concerned. I don’t have my phone because of these stupid school rules, so when Weston lets us out for extended lunch, I head to her apartment. I hit the buzzer in the lobby, and her dad answers.
“Hi, Mr. Quigley. I wanted to check on Jenna. Is she home?”
“She is, son, but she’s not feeling well.”
My mind races. Something is bad wrong. “Okay. Is there some time I can come and see her?”
“She’ll text you when she’s ready, okay?”
I hesitate before answering, but I’m already cut off from the conversation.
After standing dumbfounded in the lobby next to the buzzer for a while, I finally start getting looks from the front desk attendant.
“Do you need something else, hun?” the woman asks.
“No, thanks,” I say and head back to school.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jenna
My dad and I are a sad pair. We’re sitting in this apartment full of boxes and piles of crap everywhere. Neither of us is doing much of anything to make our surroundings livable.
I keep checking on Landon, like obsessively. He’s better. He’s up and eating, leaving the hospital today. They wanted to keep him for observation and tests. The blow to his head was really hard, and with all the flack the NFL has gotten in recent years over the lasting effects of concussions, nobody’s taking any chances.
I send Chloe a text.
Me: Checking on you and Landon. Have you gotten the latest test results back?
Chloe: He’s doing well. He wants me to tell you he’s coming to that talent contest in December. He wants to meet your new guy. Approve of him. :)
I haven’t been able to talk to Miles. He finally gave up texting me, asking if I was okay. Now the texts just say things like I think about you all the time and I miss your kisses. I can’t talk to him right now. I know he’d only be sweet and understanding. I couldn’t take that. I feel icky all the time now…like bile is constantly rising in my throat. I’m a person whose mother can’t love her. What if he looks at me and sees me the way I see myself now…the disgust I feel inside.
My mom hasn’t bothered to call. She’s outta here. Done-zo. It’s what I’ve wanted all these years. Funny what happens when you get what you want.
My dad has let me miss four days of school, but it’s Friday now, and we’re running out of excuses for my absences. Personal reasons only gets you so far. Four days, apparently. Besides, the mandatory pre-show banquet is tonight. It would be weird if I didn’t show up for school today but did show up tonight for the banquet.
I’m still pissed at my dad for “Blue Sky.” It was hers, and he had no right to give it to me, but he did. He said it was the only thing keeping him sane back then, singing that song to me. Then eventually it became mine and not hers. He said that was part of his healing process, taking that song away from her and giving it to me. I don’t like it, but I get it. We all do what we have to do to make it through a shitty situation.
We found out through our family friend Anita that my mom has moved in with a classical cellist. He’s with the Chattanooga symphony. Neither of us is sure why this was a surprise to us. It doesn’t hurt that my dad has always despised classical music. I’m fairly certain this relationship isn’t a new one. Gathering from things my father has said, I think this same guy has been in her life for quite some time and may have had something to do with her original exit from our life. For all these reasons, my dad gets a break on “Blue Sky.”
He walks me to school on Friday morning. We cut it so I’m there just in time for the bell. I don’t want to have to talk to people in the hallways…not just yet.
“I’m going to work on the apartment today,” he says. “I’ve got a late afternoon session, but I’m going to work up until then.”
“Okay,” I say, knowing it’s better than him sitting around drinking beer and watching whatever comes on TruTV.
He pulls me in for a hug. “We’re going to be okay,” he says.
I nod against his chest. “I know.” He kisses my forehead, and I head inside the school.
I manage to skirt almost everyone all morning except for Bianca and her bitches, who I have absolutely no interest in any day, but especially not today.
“Ready for
tomorrow?” she asks, opening her locker.
“Yep,” I say, putting away my Spanish book.
“If she can compete,” one of the girls says, and another one elbows her in the side.
They’re going to have to get in line if they want to put me in a shitty mood this week.
I wait it out in the bathroom and time it so that I walk in Music class just as the bell rings, hoping Weston makes everyone quiet down right off. He usually does.
Miles lights up when he sees me, and it makes my insides curl. I love him so much. There’s not a doubt in my mind. These days without him have been excruciating, like my heart is being picked apart by a monster and eaten piece by piece. But I haven’t been ready to tell him about my mom. How would I say the words? My mom said she doesn’t love me. Never did, even as a precious little dribbling baby. What kind of person is unlovable to a mother?
I sit next to him on the beanbag, because to sit in the other available seat across the room would be making a statement. I don’t want to make any statements. I want to be silent for now…maybe for the rest of my life.
Weston lectures the whole class period, which I hear about half of, maybe. Honestly, I’m just glad he’s talking and not having us work with our partners on anything. I can’t handle collaborating on another exercise with Miles right now.
The bell rings, and Miles and I both stand up. I meet his gaze, which cuts my insides up like they’re being hacked with a butcher knife.
“Hey,” he says, with that innocent, good-natured, mother-loved smile.
“Hey,” I say, forcing one back.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks.
Surely he doesn’t really buy that I’ve been sick. “Yeah,” I say.
We walk out into the hallway.
“I read that Landon was discharged from the hospital. I guess he’s going to be okay?”
I nod. He starts talking about what they went over in class on the days I missed, chattering on like a twelve-year-old girl. Either he’s nervous or he’s looking to fill the space between us. That’s typically my job, but I’m not up to that particular task today.
We stop in front of his locker, and I take his hand. “I’ll see you at the banquet tonight, okay?”
He blinks. “Okay.”
“I’m running home for lunch,” I say.
“Oh, okay. Jenna—”
I shut up the rest of that sentence with a kiss and then head down the hallway and out the front door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Miles
Nat and I sit with our parents in the cafeteria, which has been transformed with tablecloths and flower arrangements to seem like something more than a place to eat mystery meat and cardboard pizza every day.
“So, Nat,” my mom asks. “I hear you’re running this show tomorrow night.”
His cheeks color. “Yes, ma’am.”
His mom beams from her spot across the table next to my mom. “He’s been working so hard, I’ve barely seen him. He spent the whole day today at TPAC getting everything ready.”
Nat nods, all proud. “Got excused from all my classes.”
My dad frowns, and my mom gives him a look.
Jenna walks in with her dad, and I motion them over. She has on this soft turquoise dress and high heeled shoes. Her hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head with little curly pieces falling out all around. She’s beautiful in her hoodies and leggings, but she’s breathtaking like this.
Her dad sits next to my mom and shakes hands with both my parents. Jenna seems to want to sit next to her dad, but then she comes down my side of the row and sits next to me. I wish I had a clue what was going on with her.
“You look lovely tonight, Jenna,” my mom says, holding a hand out to her across the table. Jenna takes it and stares at their clasped hands. She doesn’t seem to want to let go.
My mom must sense something’s not right, because she doesn’t pull away until Jenna finally does.
Our parents start talking, and so I turn to Jenna. “Is there any way I can get you to talk to me about what’s going on with you?”
Jenna looks around as if she wishes she was anywhere else in the world. “Not here. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
Mrs. Barclay steps up to a podium that sits in the front of the caf. “Welcome, families, to the twenty-fourth annual senior talent show banquet.”
Everyone applauds. I smile at Jenna, who attempts and fails to smile back.
“We’re going to serve ourselves cafeteria style starting at this door over here, and then after we eat, we’ll recognize each of the acts here for their hard work and unique talents that help enrich our school.” She holds out a hand toward the opening. “Please.”
Everyone stands, and I pull Jenna aside. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
Jenna looks around like she can’t decide. Nat hangs back, waiting. I start to motion him to go on, but Bianca and her cotillion girls come up behind him. “Just the three we wanted to see.”
“We’re busy, Bianca,” I say.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re too busy for this. Nat, come over here with your best friend of four years.”
He frowns at her. “Try best friend since birth.”
Her face lights up, and she looks between her girls. “Oh, ladies, what fun this is going to be.”
I look at Jenna, who has crossed her arms over her chest protectively and is scanning the room. “Bianca, I’m serious,” I say.
She waves me off. “I’ll be quick. So here’s the deal. We, and by we, I mean everyone in this school, is sick of you dominating everything here. Every win, every accolade, every competition always falls into your perfect privileged lap.” She points to herself and the girls surrounding her. “We can’t stop you from competing, unfortunately, but we can stop one of your beloveds, and we’re making you choose which one. So who is it going be…Nat or Jenna?”
I shake my head at her, ready to be done with whatever this is. “What are you talking about, Bianca?”
“I’m talking about your America’s Newest Sensation tryout. Remember that?”
My body goes stiff. Nat and Dev are the only ones I even told I was trying out until…Nicolette. The look on my face must satisfy Bianca, because her features morph into something out of a wicked fairy tale.
She tugs on my tie. “See, we know all about how Jenna stole your number, and your little best friend here sought revenge by screwing up her audition.” She turns to Nat. “Congrats to you on figuring out a way to put Jenna in the contest and keep yourself out of trouble at the same time. Too bad I’m going to have to tell Barclay all about it.”
Nat’s face turns tomato red. “You fucking little—”
“Shut up, Nat,” I say before he calls her a bitch or worse, tosses out the “c” word and makes this about ten times worse than it already is. “What do you want, Bianca?” I ask, because I know she wants something, otherwise, she’d have already told Barclay everything.
She shrugs. “It’s simple, and it’s your choice. I can tell Barclay that Nat screwed up Jenna’s performance on purpose, and he’ll be off production duty and probably suspended for fucking up the monitor to cover his own ass, because I’m assuming that’s what he did.”
She looks at him for confirmation. He doesn’t deny it. I’m not sure how he could.
“Or, you can ask Jenna to bow out gracefully, and I’ll keep everything to myself.”
I narrow my gaze at her, my heartbeat pounding against my chest. “Why are you making this about me? Why not just do what you’re going to do?”
She takes a step toward me. “Because you might not lose the competition tomorrow, but you’re going to lose something.” She looks between Jenna and Nat. “What’s it going to be?”
I stand there, stunned that this is actually happening, the whole upper half of my body so hot I think I might erupt.
“Miles,” Nat says, a look of desperation on his face.
Jenna’s face has turned white, and she’
s holding her stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
I help Jenna over to rest against the table. “Are you okay?” Her breaths come heavier and stronger.
“Oh, look girls,” Bianca says. “How noble that she’s going to back out so her boyfriend has no blood on his hands. But it doesn’t work that way. Miles is going to make this decision. I want to hear you say which one stays. Are you picking Nat, or are you picking Jenna?”
I rub Jenna’s back, trying to calm her. She’s looking at me desperately, like she doesn’t understand what’s happening.
“Jenna,” I say. “Do you need a nurse or something?”
She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, staring at me while she tries to get her breathing under control.
“She’s faking, Miles,” Bianca says. “And you’re wasting time. If you don’t give me an answer, I’m going to tell Barclay the whole truth, and they’ll probably both get yanked from the show.”
“Dude,” Nat says.
“Shut up!” I shout back.
I look back at Jenna, whose breaths are calming, but her face is still white. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I want to leave.”
Bianca points at her. “She’s not leaving until I get an answer.”
“Fuck off, Bianca,” I say.
She stands up straight. “Guess I’m telling Barclay the whole truth.”
“Miles!” Nat shouts. I jerk my head toward him, and he’s eight years old again on the playground getting the hell beat out of him by that kid who relentlessly bullied him. He swallows hard and motions to his mom across the room, his eyes desperate. “Please.”
Jenna smooths her hair back out of her face, the color returning to her cheeks.
I clench my eyes shut, every fiber of my being standing on edge. I open up and face Bianca. “Don’t talk to Barclay.”
She holds her hands up, the satisfaction etched on her features. “So let me be clear. You’re asking Jenna to step out for Nat. Is that correct?”
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