“At school,” he replied, washing the dishes again. “She’ll be home in a couple of hours.”
I put my head in my hands.
“I am a shitty parent,” I said as I groaned. “I’m hungover. Parents aren’t supposed to be hungover. And I never came back last night, so Callie is going to think I’m an idiot again.”
He finished putting the dishes away and sat down at the table again.
“I think you’d be surprised at how many parents are hungover.”
I gave him a look. “Still. Shitty parent. Shitty parent award.” I pointed to myself.
“You live, you learn,” He shrugged. “You’re still only twenty-one. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”
“I’m not supposed to make mistakes like that when I’m supposed to be taking care of three people plus myself.”
“Hey,” he said, leaning across the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“But you were mad at me for hooking up with the asshole.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“I don’t really know if mad is the right word. It wasn’t my favorite part of the evening, that’s for sure.”
“What was?”
“What was what?”
“Your favorite part?”
He grinned.
“You,” he said. “In my bed.”
My jaw dropped and my cheeks reddened instantly.
“What?” he said, looking like he was going to burst out laughing at any second. “I never said I was a saint.”
I flashed back to the Stacia-in-the-steam-room incident.
“Oh, trust me,” I said, crossing my arms and mimicking his posture. “I remember.”
He stared at me across the table with a look I couldn’t quite place, but I was surprised when he didn’t look away. Most people do; they look away after about five seconds, seven at the most. Ten and it just gets weird, but it didn’t with him. We just stared at each other like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“So,” I said finally. “What happened?”
“What?” He blinked as if he were returning from somewhere else.
“Between the time that you got Jenny out and now. Don’t get me wrong, but when we met, it seemed like you had some things going on.”
“We didn’t meet that long ago,” he whispered.
“I know.”
He sighed sadly and shifted his weight. “I’m not going to make excuses. What you saw when you met me wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of myself at that point in my life.”
“At that point in your life? Like you said, that was kind of recent.”
He leaned forward and put his hand lightly on mine.
“Trust me when I say it feels like an entirely different lifetime.”
“Okay,” I whispered. It was all I could do. His eyes were searching mine like he wanted to make sure I believed him, and he only looked away when it seemed like he had his answer.
I followed his gaze and realized I was still wearing his clothes.
“I should probably get back home,” I told him, pushing my chair back from the table and gesturing at what I was wearing. “Where are my clothes, by the way?”
He grinned his sideways smirk.
“Upstairs on my dresser.”
I gave him a look. “I’ll go change. How did I…” I trailed off and gestured to his shirt.
He looked like he was stifling a laugh.
“Kenzie helped you,” he managed. “Don’t worry.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you.”
I skipped up the stairway and back to his bedroom to change into my jeans and top from last night. I was glad I wasn’t wearing a dress and heels, because I might have preferred my walk of shame in his clothes than mine if that were the case.
I flipped my hair to the side and tried to comb it with my fingers when I noticed something strange in the mirror. There was a picture frame on his desk that looked familiar.
I was startled when he knocked on the door.
“Come in!” I called, flipping my hair back to normal. I still looked like a mess, but at least I wasn’t wearing his T-shirt and boxers anymore.
“I’ll walk you,” he said, staring at me with that strange expression again.
Part of me felt relieved because, for some strange reason, I didn’t want to leave him, but I felt silly making him walk me just up the street.
“You don’t have to,” I told him, picking up my purse. I didn’t need him doing me any favors.
“I want to.”
“Okay.” I swallowed as I wiped my hands on my jeans, suddenly nervous.
We walked in a comfortable silence back to my house, but I couldn’t help myself from wondering whether I should try to fill the silence. I knew I was overthinking it, but I didn’t want to ruin this with him. I wasn’t sure what there was to ruin at this point, but he was my friend who had just dealt with me all night after my stupid decisions, and then told me things hardly anyone knew at breakfast. He was something, that was for sure.
As we were walking, our hands lightly brushed one another. Instead of pretending like it hadn’t happened or that it had shocked him, he pulled my hand into his and laced our fingers like it was the most natural gesture in the world.
I rang the doorbell because I realized I still didn’t have a key, and luckily Callie answered. Again, I expected Dean to let go of my hand the second Callie came into view, but he didn’t. Instead, he greeted her and pulled me into the house when she opened the door. He didn’t say anything, but went straight for the pantry.
“You guys don’t have anything in here,” he said, pulling out boxes to look in the back. “How do you eat? I’ll be back at five for dinner. I’m making lasagna.”
Callie looked at me like we were both crazy.
“You can make lasagna?” I asked, just as confused as Callie was.
He shut the door to the pantry and nodded.
“You bet.” He took a step forward, kissed me on the forehead, waved to Callie, and left.
Neither of us moved.
“What just happened?” She asked me, putting a hand on her hip.
I pulled my jacket off.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I told her truthfully.
“SO,” CALLIE SAID, taking a seat at the bar where she was eating a bowl of cereal. Dean was right. We really did need to go grocery shopping for real food. “Spill.”
I threw my coat on the back of the couch.
“I’m not really sure what there is to spill,” I told her honestly.
“What isn’t there to spill?” She brandished her spoon at me. “You didn’t sleep here and you came back holding his hand. That’s a lot of things to spill.”
I sighed. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Which part?” She shoved more cereal in her mouth.
“All of it,” I said. “I was stupid and was too sick to go home last night, and your guess is as good as mine as to why he was holding my hand like that.”
“Nope,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure my guess is better.”
“And that is?”
“He likes you,” she said, squealing like the sixteen-year-old that she was. Sometimes I forgot what it was like to be a bubbly teenager who believed in all-consuming love. Probably because my fantasy came crashing down right around then.
“I don’t know,” I pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.
“You do know,” she said matter-of-factly. “You just don’t want to admit it. I don’t think he does either, according to Jenny, but it looked like he was a whole lot closer than you.”
“Wait, you talked to Jenny?”
She took her time chewing, which was torture for me.
“Duh. It’s not like Dean’s ever spent this much time on someone before. It’s usually kind of the love-em, leave-em kind of thing. If you really want to call it ‘love
-em’ anyway.” She trailed off.
I shut my eyes.
“Ew, can we not go there please?”
She gave me a look. “Sorry, homeboy’s got a past.”
I laughed at her word choice. “Don’t I know it.”
“I’m kind of excited,” she said.
I nearly choked on my water to hear that come out of her mouth.
“About what?”
“If you tell anyone I said this I’ll lie, but you guys are adorable together. It just works. I kind of wish I had someone like that, minus the whole man-whore past, thing.”
I bit my lip and shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” She got up and put her bowl in the dishwasher, which shocked me to no end. I’d been doing her dishes for weeks.
As she walked upstairs, I realized it was time to make an all-important phone call.
After I’d showered, I felt like myself again. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to relax. I was startled by a knock on the front door. Part of me thought it would be Dean, but I definitely wasn’t expecting Jed.
“You have to make a decision,” he said, brandishing papers in my face.
“Hello to you too,” I said as sarcastically as I could, shutting the door as he wandered into the living room.
He slapped them down on the table.
“What are they?” I asked as I observed the stack.
“Legal guardian papers,” he said. “They need to be signed within thirty days. Either you’re taking them, or you’re not.”
“What happens if I can’t?” I asked, crossing my arms. I didn’t sit down, and neither did he.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
“All three will go into the foster care system. There is no other choice.”
“And there’s a possibility that they will all go to the same place?” I asked. “So they can still be a family?”
Jed shook his head.
“No,” he said gruffly. “Three kids? It’s almost impossible. That would be like getting struck by lightning. Twice.”
“So what you’re saying is that if I don’t take them, I’m splitting them up for good?”
He nodded.
“I strongly suggest that you think about this, Lauren. Think about what you’re doing.”
I knew that was a guilt trip.
“I am thinking!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice slightly. He didn’t need to treat me like I was still a child. “I’m trying to do what’s best for them, but a month ago I didn’t even know them. I called today and deferred a semester of my own classes. So I am trying. I didn’t know I had such a strict time frame to decide. I never asked for this.”
“Asked for this?” Jed said, raising his own voice now. “No one asks for these kinds of things to happen to them! You’ve had your fair share of tragedy in your young life, I’ll give you that. But think about what it would do to these kids if they didn’t have you. If they didn’t have each other.” He paused and considered his next words carefully. “I’m willing to bet you’ve heard Dean’s story. Do you want to do that to them?”
“Don’t you dare try to guilt me, Jed. This is my life too.” I scoffed. “And how dare you compare what he went through to this. I’m not a crackwhore who shoots up my own kids.”
He walked towards me and I knew he was about to leave.
“You’re right,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not. But something tells me that if your father were here, he would want you to stay with them. He would think it was right.”
“Don’t drag him into this,” I told him. “If he were here, I wouldn’t be.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Think about it, Lauren.”
With that, he was gone as quickly as he had arrived.
I hid the papers in my room and stared at them until it was time to pick up Chase and Emma from school. Callie knocked on my door and told me she would go and get them, and I was grateful that she wanted something to do. I felt numb from my conversation with Jed. It was a huge life decision, not only for me, but also for them. I was in control of their destiny. I was so incredibly scared to do it because of how it would impact my life, but I felt like I couldn’t say no. I would feel like I was single-handedly taking everything away from them. How could I be that selfish?
I didn’t have the money to pay for it if I transferred to Dean and Kenzie’s university. My current school was much less expensive. I had the grades to transfer, I knew that, but money would be a problem. At this point, it was my future, or theirs. Who was I to take all of their opportunities away in favor of my own? Maybe I could dance again. I could start teaching. I just wanted to finish out my degree before I did that. There had to be another way.
The garage door opened and I heard Callie’s keys jingle as she hung them on the rack. I was going to talk to her about the papers, but I saw she wasn’t alone. Dean was behind her, carrying Emma. Chase brought up the rear and carried two handfuls of grocery bags to the kitchen.
Callie winked at me and ran upstairs. “I’m going to call Jenny and tell her to come over,” she said.
I nodded and bit my lip nervously.
“Hey,” I said, waving to Dean.
“Hey yourself,” he said, beaming at me. “Look who I found.”
Emma was hanging onto him for dear life sporting a smile of her own.
“Come here,” I told her, needing some kind of comfort.
“No!” she shouted unhappily. She would never leave him if it wasn’t necessary.
How could I take the kids away from not only their home, but their friends? Their entire lives? They had already lost so much, but so had I. I wanted to crawl into a hole until all of this was sorted out.
Dean laughed at Emma’s refusal.
“He needs to take his coat off, Emma.” I reached out for her once more.
“I’ll take you back in three seconds,” Dean told her. “Just let Lauren hold you.”
She didn’t look happy, but she launched herself into my arms and started counting.
He pulled off his coat quickly and hung it up next to mine just in time for her to get to three. She kicked off of me, which was actually sort of painful, and latched onto Dean again as she snuggled her head into his chest. I paid more attention to the sight of our coats in a closet next to each other than I did to where Emma launched off of me.
I couldn’t help but smile. When I looked at him, I saw safety, and no matter how much I hated to admit it to myself, I envied Emma for being able to cling to him whenever she wanted.
“You know I’m going to have to put you down to cook, right?” he said to Emma.
“No!”
She snuggled even deeper into his arms.
“I guess you won’t be able to show Lauren how you play your brand new game then, will you?” he said, brushing her nose.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Fine,” she said. “But can I sit by you at dinner?”
He nodded and she seemed satisfied.
Chase ran upstairs to his room to play his video games, and Jenny arrived a few minutes later. Dean started cooking and wouldn’t let anyone else in the kitchen while he did, so he convinced Emma to show me her game.
“What is it?” I asked as she led me by the hand to the living room.
“It’s called manacla,” she said, desperately butchering the order of the letters, but I didn’t correct her. I could read it on the box so I knew what she meant.
She set it up like a pro and showed me how to move the marbles from one dish to the next. Surprisingly, she won six games out of seven without me trying to lose.
“I’m the master of mancala!” she shouted, and led me back into the kitchen when Dean called us in.
Emma sat down at the table and patted the chair next to her.
“I want to sit next to Lauren,” she said.
“Hey!” Dean said, setting plates in front of us. “I wanted to sit next to Lauren.”
Emma shook her head.<
br />
“Nope, she gets to sit next to me and you get to sit by me too!”
He winked at me and a huge smile lit up his face.
“Oh good,” he said. “I was beginning to worry I wouldn’t get to sit next to any of my favorite people tonight. I guess I still win.”
Emma seemed pleased with herself.
“No,” she said. “I get you both. I win.”
“Jeddediah, Jeremiah, and Josiah?” Jenny asked, cutting her lasagna apart. “That’s as lot of J’s.”
“I know,” I sighed. “My grandma loved J names and the bible, apparently. I never met her.”
“Oh,” Jenny said, smirking. “She would have loved Dean then, considering his real name is−”
“Jenny.” Dean cut in, giving her a look that warned her not to finish that sentence.
Real name? What was she talking about?
“What?” she said. “I think it’s cool.”
She and Callie gave each other stifled smiles and Dean knew she was really making fun of him.
“No, our parents were just really weird,” he said quickly. “More lasagna?”
“Stop trying to shut me up,” she retorted, refusing the dish.
“Stop trying to embarrass me,” he said back.
Chase cut in.
“Does it start with a J?”
Jenny nodded evilly.
“John?” he guessed.
Jenny shook her head.
“Jeff?”
“Nope.”
“James?” I said, surprising myself.
Everyone stared at me.
“Bingo!” Jenny shouted, raising her hands in the air.
Dean narrowed his eyes at her.
“Sorry, James Dean Powell. We have a winner,” she laughed through her next bite.
“James Dean?” Callie asked. “As in that hot guy who crashed his car in the fifties?”
“Yes,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Our parents were weird. End of story.”
“Why don’t you go by your real first name?” I asked, feeling like I shouldn’t have.
“Because,” he said, not looking up from his food. “That was his name.”
By that, I figured he meant his dad, because Jenny quickly changed the subject and told us all how Shayna Perkins now had to wear a hat to school to cover up how much hair she’d lost when Callie got out her scissors.
Luckily, by the end of dinner, everyone had forgotten the James Dean conversation much to Dean’s relief.
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