“Hey,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear, angling away from Bridget who was whispering loudly to put it on speakerphone.
“Hey, I figured I’d just call you. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ll never drink again.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and grainy through the phone. “I planned on greeting you this morning with my own hangover cure but I’m grounded.”
“Oof. That bad huh?”
“Yeah well I was under strict instructions to not have any alcohol, and we both know how that went.”
“Rough life.”
“Tell me about it. My mom woke me up at five this morning to scrub a mysterious red stain out of the carpet in the den. Pretty sure it was Scotty’s fault. He brought wine from his parent’s cellar. Which, I know I’m not an expert cleaner or anything, but that shit didn’t come out. At all.” He laughed, then added, “Would I be an asshole if I sent him the bill?”
My grin widened. “I actually vaguely remember spotting him on the couch in the den making out with Lou. They had red cups in their hands.”
“That bastard.”
The line went quiet for a moment, and I almost thought I’d lost him.
“I meant what I said last night,” he added quietly. “About missing you. I really missed you.”
“I missed you too.” So much that my chest was beginning to hurt and my feelings were tangled into a giant mess. They were notes fallen off the page, and I’d clumsily picked them up to weave them into a melody I couldn’t quite grasp. And that kiss…
I mean, it was on the cheek, but still.
“How was the conservatory? I want to hear all about it.”
Bridget’s nose scrunched up. “You didn’t tell him?” she whisper-mouthed.
I shook my head. “Right now?” I asked Jude.
“Yeah, right now. Are you busy? I want to hear everything.”
“Tell him!” She mouthed, scooting closer to listen.
I shook my head again. It wasn’t important. I’d tell him later.
“Not until you tell me more about school.”
6
Missed Call
Jude
Adam Ransom was one hell of a guy. More accurately, he was the biggest prick I’d ever known, and the fact that I hadn’t decked him across the table was a testament to how far I’d come. Progress, I guess. Or maybe restraint. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration filled with pride and a whole lot of relief.
I’d graduated from STEM Academy with the highest GPA, half my college credits, and an acceptance letter to the Air Force Academy waiting for me in the fall. I was only a few steps away from my dream—Space Force, advanced research, a future studying SOL and implementing it into various fields.
Adam—the man who gave me half my DNA and nothing else—chose that moment, at an upscale restaurant in Dallas with my saint of a mother and grandmother beside us, to announce he was getting married. It was at this moment that his bride (who could not be more than a few years older than me) chose to waltz in late, wearing the shortest dress I’d ever seen, barely acknowledging anyone at the table.
It was also the moment it clicked… Adam and I shared nothing but a jawline and some lousy letters strung into a name. After everything he’d put us through, this had tobe the worst of it. I kept hoping someday he’d walk through our front door, set down his bags, and announce he’d given it all up for us. Naively, for me.
It was a fruitless wish cast by an eight year old with a wound only his father could mend. Now that I was no longer a child, I could see it for what it was… hopeless. Expecting Adam to give up his career was akin to asking me to give up SOL—I understood that now. The worst part was that I didn’t even begrudge him for it. What I loathed about him was that he knew what he wanted to do with his life, and yet he strung my mom along as if he’d wanted to settle down and start a family. She was seven months pregnant with me the first time he disappeared for a few months. He came back, of course. Only to leave again when I was three. It was a pattern that continued until my mom couldn’t take it anymore and told him if he walked out the door, she didn’t want him to come back.
So he didn’t.
