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I steel myself as I answer, my spine stiff. “Mom, you’re late.”
I hear her answering huff on the other line. “Is that any way to greet your mother?” A staticky sound falls over the phone followed by the muffled sound of her voice as she speaks tosomeone in the background. Then she says to me, “I’m sorry, dear. I was just calling to see if you got in okay.”
I clench and fight the urge to scream. “Mom, you’re supposed to be here.”
“Don’t get prickly with me, Jace. You know how busy we are.”
“You’re not coming,” I state, my throat tight.
Silence fills the line, and for a moment, I think I lost her until she clears her throat. “No. I’m sorry, but you know how much I hate flying alone, and the idea of renting a car by myself to meet your father in a foreign country is unpalatable. I just can’t handle traveling by myself, and being a woman, it’s unsafe, really. Just the other day, I was watching the news, and there was this story about a young woman who was . . .”
I stop listening. Nothing she says matters anyway. It’s just the same old excuses, the same reasons for not being present, when in reality, it’s because neither of my parents give a damn.
They don’t care that it’s been months since I’ve been home, and that after these two weeks, I probably won’t be able to visit until the holidays. Then again, why should it matter? They’ll probably take a Christmas trip, anyway.
“Sure, Mom,” I say, interrupting her mid-sentence. “It’s fine. I can fend for myself.”
I always do.
Unable to listen to any more of her excuses, I hang up while she’s still talking. It’s something I never would’ve done before, too afraid to upset her, but if she doesn’t care, why should I?
The first thing I do once the line goes dead is type out a text to Brynn.
ME: She’s not coming.
BRYNN: Are you sure?
ME: Positive. Just got off the phone with her.
I wait, but she doesn’t type anything else, so I sigh and stare out the window, wondering what to do with my time. The Nichols aren’t expecting me for another two days, and the last thing I want to do is impose on the time they have to spend with their children.
I should probably text the guys. See if anyone else is home yet and up for hanging out. After all, I haven’t talked to them as much in the last few weeks, probably because it’s hard to talk to the guys I’m used to sharing everything with while hiding the best thing that’s ever happened to me from them.
With a sigh, I open my contacts when my phone starts to ring and Brynn’s name lights up the screen. Butterflies awaken inside my chest and the lump of emotion returns to my throat as I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, immediately.
A shot of warmth skates through my veins. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s really not, and you have every right to be pissed.”
My throat tightens further, and I have to clear it to speak. “Are you guys home yet?”
“We just pulled in and I snuck up to my room with my bags, so I could call you.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Come here. You have no reason to stay there now, and I hate the thought of you in that big house all alone.”
I laugh, but it falls flat. “This is my house, remember? I’ve been alone in it for most of my life.”
“Jace, don’t. Even if your parents don’t show it, you have a million other people that love you. You know that, right?”
My eyes sting, forcing me to blink. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You’re not getting sappy on me are you, Cupcake?”
“Maybe you’ve changed me. It’s your fault for kissing me on the couch that night.”
