Guiding her back to the Mercedes, he kept an arm around her. She sensed he didn’t want to let her go, but one of the reasons she loved him was because of his desire to do the right thing. It was why he had gone to prison, and sometimes she wondered if it was all for her, or if none of it was.
He peeked into the backseat. “You told your mother you were taking pictures, didn’t you?”
Blushing, she opened the door. “Yes.”
“And you drove straight here without stopping to eat.”
She looked up. “How did you—”
“Why else would you be eating licorice right now?” he asked, laughing. “You do realize I hate licorice, right?”
“You do?” It was something she hadn’t known about him, but then again, she hadn’t known him that long in the grand scheme of things. Not that it mattered.
He leaned forward and licked his lips. “Yes, I do, but I’ll kiss you again anyway. I’d kiss you forever, even if you tasted like licorice every time.”
“How brave of you,” she replied with a laugh. He kissed her again, not as passionately this time, but enough to make her breathless once more. She wrapped her arms around him as she leaned halfway into the car through the open door. Jesse kept her steady, and she ran her hands down his arms, noticing he was more toned than before.
“Jesse,” she said between kisses. “Where are you working?”
He stopped kissing her and smiled. “At a construction site. I wear a hardhat all day.” He looked down at her hands on his biceps. “I also worked out in prison.”
She frowned. “You’re qualified for better work than construction. Why—”
“Because I took what I could get, Naomi. It doesn’t look so great to would-be employers when they see a two-year, jobless gap on my resume. And I have to report that I’m on parole. It might be a long time before I can get back into architecture with a good firm. I could try freelancing or starting my own company, but that would take more money than I have—to do it right, anyway.”
Money. It always came back to that. She looked away. “I didn’t mean it’s bad you’re working construction. I meant—”
He put a finger to her lips and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You don’t need to worry about any of this. Things will work out. They will always work out for you and me.”
The intensity in his voice put her on edge for a moment, but she pushed it aside as he kissed her again. She forgot his fumbled words and worried looks. She forgot about the Mercedes and the licorice and prison and being kidnapped. There was only Jesse, his strong arms around her, the way he ignored the taste of licorice in her mouth, the way he held her so tightly she knew he would sacrifice anything for her.
“Jesse!”
He ripped away from her, backing up so fast she stumbled into the open Mercedes and scraped her ankle on the gravel. She cried out, looking down to see blood beading across her torn skin. Jesse was back by his truck now, his eyes widening as he looked at her ankle and then turned to his father marching down the walkway from the apartment complex. The two looked so alike, it was uncanny. Naomi blinked and steadied herself as James walked around the front of the truck, his attention darting from her to Jesse.
“Explain yourself,” he growled at Jesse. It was the first time Naomi had ever seen him angry. He was usually so calm.
Jesse shut the truck’s door and faced his father. “It’s nothing. I was helping Naomi back into the car so she could leave. I told her she couldn’t be here. We were kissing goodbye and that’s it.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow. More like making out goodbye.
“Damn straight she can’t be here.” James whirled around to face her, but the distance from across the street undermined the threat in his eyes.
“Naomi, I understand why you would want to come here, but when I told your mother about Jesse and asked her to inform you he was on parole, it was so you’d understand not to come here anymore. Surely, your mother informed you Jesse is not allowed to see you. Do you want him back in prison?” He turned to Jesse. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“No, Dad.”
The anger on Jesse’s face startled Naomi. It was aimed at his father, fire swirling in his eyes. Naomi had never seen such an expression on him, even when she had seen him angry with Eric. She took a step back, almost losing her balance as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Then, as quickly as it came, the anger dissolved and Jesse’s countenance relaxed.
“I’m sorry about coming,” she said in cracked voice.
James held out his cell phone. “Your mother is on the line. She called to tell me you might show up.”
With her voice stuck in her throat, Naomi walked across the street. Her body felt stiff and foreign. Her ankle throbbed. So, her mother didn’t trust her. She had let her take off knowing she would come straight here. Something dark boiled inside Naomi’s chest as she looked at Jesse and took James’s phone. She placed it to her ear.
“Mom?”
There was silence for a moment.
“You need to come home right now. I told you not to see him.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Naomi grumbled, turning away. “It just happened.”
Wow, that sounded stupid. She cringed.
“Don’t give me that crap, Naomi. Get your ass home. Right now. If you’re not home in two hours, I’m coming to find you.”
Shocked, Naomi opened her mouth to retort, but the line went dead and she realized her mother had hung up. She lowered the phone from her ear and stared down at it as if she expected her mother to call back and apologize. She had never heard her say the word “ass” or talk in such a rude way, especially to her. It was as if the universe was shifting into another dimension. A bad one.
Looking up at James, she gave him his phone. A part of her wanted to scream at him for treating her and Jesse as if they were children and couldn’t make their own decisions and mistakes, but at the thought of how James might react, her anger boiled down to a simmer. Everything was surreal all of a sudden. She wanted nothing more than to get back in the car and drive until she could shake the feeling.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized to James. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
James let out a sigh. “I don’t want to lose Jesse again when he’s making such a huge recovery. His parole adamantly states he’s not allowed to be in contact with you until he has served his time. Parole doesn’t mean he’s free, and even when he’s released, there will be restrictions for him.”
She glanced at Jesse, catching a glimpse of his eyes. He looked like he wanted to sweep her up into his arms again, but he knew better than to try.
“I understand, Mr. Sullivan. Goodbye.” She finally looked fully into Jesse’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” She walked back to the Mercedes. Climbing in, she stepped all over the candies she had spilled. She started the car and drove away, trying her hardest not to look in the rearview mirror.
VII
NAOMI WENT STRAIGHT TO HER ROOM when she arrived home. Her mother rushed out of her office and followed her up the stairs.
Unsure if slamming the door would be too childish, Naomi left it open and turned around to face her mother. She was still dressed in her skirt and blouse, but she looked much more tired than she had before. It was seven-thirty. She had probably been worrying for the past five hours.
“Why did you let me go?” Naomi asked as she folded her arms.
Her mother folded her arms too, but kept her expression calm. “Because I wanted to see if you would go to him. I want to trust you. I’m trying.”
Naomi looked away, guilt sweeping through her. She hadn’t realized her mother’s trust in her was on such thin ice. “I haven’t seen him for so long,” she explained. “I wanted to see him, that’s all. See him, not talk to him. Then he got out of the truck and I couldn’t help myself. He was so close. I love him. I couldn’t help it.”
Her mother’s expression faltered for a moment, jumping to annoyance and
disbelief before she plastered it back to stone. “Love is not an excuse to put his future in danger, as well as yours. Seeing him too soon isn’t good for your recovery. How many times have your counselors told you that?”
“About five-billion,” Naomi snapped, unfolding her arms. “Everyone seems to think enough time will make me fall out of love with him, that I’ll come to my senses and realize he’s a criminal and unsafe, even if he’s served his time and changed. But he’s a person too, Mom, like you and me. He’s made mistakes and he’s trying to change. He deserves a second chance.” She folded her arms again, calming herself down. When she looked into her mother’s eyes, they were glassy. “I feel things for him I’ve never felt for anyone else. How can I change that? How can I just ... stop ... loving someone?”
Her mother thought for a moment as her shoulders relaxed. “I’ve never meant to imply you can’t be with him. I’m saying now is not the right time, and betraying my trust like you’ve done today is going to tear us apart if it keeps happening. Do you want that? After everything people have done to you?”
Naomi took a step back. “So if we tear apart, it’s all my fault?”
Her jaw flexed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Did you tell Dad about this?”
“I told him as soon as he got home, yes.”
“And what does he think?”
Her mother blinked. “He told me to let you make your own mistakes. He’s always been more lenient than me, but I know what your kind of thinking is going to lead to, and it’s not pretty.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Naomi, pulling her into an awkward hug. “I want to protect you. I lost you once and I don’t want to go through that again.”
Naomi kept her arms stiffly folded, keeping the hug uncomfortable for a few seconds before relaxing. “Nobody is going to kidnap me again, Mom.”
“I know, but there are other ways to lose you.”
Naomi didn’t answer. Her stomach growled, and her mother let her go and backed into the hall. “Mindy has dinner ready. Want to come downstairs and eat?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
When they were all seated, Naomi looked at her parents and remembered her life without them when she was held captive. She had thought then that they didn’t love her—and perhaps they hadn’t. But they did now. Her father kept smiling at her as he talked to her about her classes and how he wanted her to come visit his office in the next week.
“I want you to see the business side of things. Do you think you’d be interested in going that route?”
She picked at the green beans on her plate. Mindy always put slivered almonds on them, and Naomi lined up the pale cream-colored fragments with her fork. Then she pushed her mashed potatoes away from the beans and started shaping them into a square. Separate pieces. She didn’t like things touching. “I want to do film, Dad.”
“I know you do, but film comprises a lot of things. Directing, cinematography, editing, all of that. And if you do any of it freelance or decide to go into the production end of things, you’ll want those business skills. I want to show you around. You don’t have to like anything.” He laughed, and Naomi looked up at his clean-shaven face and sparkling blue eyes. He was always charming, she realized. She wondered why she hadn’t inherited more of his outgoing personality. “I’m not trying to convert you!” he said, holding up his hands. “Or if you think it would be too boring, you could come with me to see the German office. You’re mother’s always too busy.”
She smiled at his obvious desire to share a part of his career with her. “That’s fine. I can come see the office here.” Maybe it would keep her mind off Jesse. She went back to poking at the almonds and her phone made a dinging sound. Text message. She dug it out of her pocket and hid it beneath the lip of the table so her parents couldn’t see. Nobody ever sent her text messages.
Incoming text from unknown number.
She pressed the button to receive the message.
Hi, Naomi, it’s Jesse. Got your number from my dad’s phone and I’m texting from a friend’s phone so this isn’t traced. I trust him. Won’t be calling or texting you outside of this, but wanted to tell you thank you for coming to see me. I know you feel like you’re in trouble, but it was good to see you.
She stared at the message for a long time. She could feel her parents’ attention on her downturned head. Then the phone dinged again and another message came through. She pressed the button.
Sorry, phone only lets me send so many characters. When parole is over, I want to see you. Also, odd question ... do you have a passport? If you don’t, maybe think about getting one soon. Don’t tell anyone about these texts, and don’t text me back. Shouldn’t be contacting you, but had to say I love you.
A passport? Of course she had a passport. Because of her father’s German office, her parents had always made sure she had a current one in case she wanted to visit. Yeah, right.
At the thought of Jesse asking her if she had one, she held her breath.
“Naomi,” her mother said in a cautious voice. “What’s the matter?”
She looked up. “Nothing. Just a text.”
“Oh, from whom?” Her mother chewed her food slowly, leaning forward as her fork dangled from her hand.
The phone dinged again. Naomi nearly jumped out of her chair. “Nobody,” she said, looking down at the screen.
Incoming text from Finn Giachetti.
Unbelievable. She never received texts, and now three in a row. She looked up at her mother. “It’s from a guy at college.”
“Oh?” Her mother stopped chewing. “You were dating someone there?”
“No, he’s a friend.”
Looking down again, she pressed the button to receive the message.
How’s your summer going? I got a promotion at Java, so next time you come in you’ll have to ask for the assistant manager.
Her pulse quickened as she read his words. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed his friendship. Smiling, she looked up to see her parents exchanging a knowing look. Of course they tacked on extra meaning to the word “friend.” She remembered his kiss, the way he had made her feel like herself again. She hit reply on the phone and typed, That’s great! Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. Have you done anything fun over the summer?
“I’m happy you’re making friends there,” her mother said.
“Why? So I’ll forget about Jesse?”
“No, that’s not what I said.”
Her phone dinged with Finn’s reply.
I’m kind of bored, honestly ... especially on Wednesdays. I’m excited for you to get back!
She squeezed the phone, wishing she had the courage to call him and talk to him. Her thoughts and emotions for Jesse pushed through everything else.
She returned with, I miss our Wednesday talks. First thing I’m doing when I get back is coming in for some almond cake.
Pursing her lips together, she turned off her phone and set it by her plate. She picked up her fork and stabbed a green bean. She noticed her parents didn’t separate their food into neat piles like she did. It was as if she was afraid letting her food touch might explode the universe. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she needed a counselor during the summer and not just the school year.
“Naomi?” her mother asked.
Setting down her fork, Naomi stood from the table and grabbed her phone. “I’m going for a walk.”
Her mother swallowed what was probably a long lecture on friends and college and branching out, and looked at her husband before they both nodded. Sighs escaped their mouths as Naomi gave them a weak smile and left the table. In many ways, she knew she had always been mature beyond her years—logical and practical, levelheaded—but around her parents, all of that fell away and she was left acting like a sulky child. Maybe it was as much their fault as hers. She needed to get away to figure it out.
As soon as she was outside, she kicked off her sandals and left them on t
he deck. The sandy trails leading down to the beach were warm and dry, and the tall grasses tickled her arms as she passed by them. If she stayed long enough, she could watch the sunset, but part of her didn’t care. She had no plans except to get away from her parents. No matter how grateful she was to be with them, they were suffocating her. As long as she lived under their roof, whether it was this house in California or the one they paid for in Massachusetts, she would never feel truly free.
Once she reached the end of the trails, she kept walking until her feet sank into wet sand. It was one of her favorite things to do—connect with the ocean in whatever way she could. As seawater rolled over her toes, she closed her eyes and let it lick its way up to her ankles. Then the wave receded and she looked down at the leftover bubbles, watching as they popped and left behind thin, sticky foam. The sunlight was rich orange now, filtering through some higher clouds along the horizon. It made the sand a warm brown, and for a moment she wanted to sit down and let the water splash over her entire body.
She looked back at the house and decided to walk on. She needed to be farther away from them. Today had snapped something inside her. College had been a temporary fix for making her feel independent, but in the end, she was at their mercy. Always. Even when she was held captive, she had felt that same sort of dependency, only on another family who was now in prison. Her parents’ money paid for everything. Her clothes, her phone, her car at college, even the pens and notebooks she bought for her classes. That was why she needed Harvard and a degree, so she could live on her own one day. Her father’s words frightened her. And if you do any of it freelance or decide to go into the production end of things, you’ll want those business skills.
Of course, if she ended up with Jesse, he would take care of her. She wondered how she might adjust to a different lifestyle then, and if it even mattered as long as they had each other.
Watching her footprints fill with water, she kept walking up the beach. There were jellyfish scattered across the sand, shiny and transparent. There were smooth rocks, some shells. She bent to pick one up and ran her thumb over the surface as she imagined what it would be like to work every day for a paycheck. It was what her parents lived for, what they loved the most, it seemed. Her mother rarely traveled, and her father left for Germany three times a year for business. They adored their careers as much as each other—and her too, supposedly. For the second time, she turned and looked back at the house. She thought she saw them watching her from the glass doors leading out to the deck. She looked away and threw the shell into the waves, back to its home.
Pieces (The Breakaway #2) Page 5