Page 120 of Big Dill

Jaxon grins. “Read the comments.”

I scan them. “Jesus…this could be huge for her new line.” Jaxon nods, but there’s a flicker of worry behind his eyes. “What?”

His frown deepens. “She’s clearly had fun making the clothes for the club.”

“And?”

He gestures toward the rack of her designs. “I wonder if doing this on a bigger scale is really what she wants. Or is it just what she thinks she should want…”

He trails off, but I get it. Jami’s idea of success is making her parents proud.

My stomach twists. “I don’t know. I guess you know her better than me.”

“Yeah…maybe,” he says, picking up his crutches and heading outside.

We’re both lost in our thoughts by the time we reach the house. Once inside, I search for Jami. She’s gone. Her things are gone. Her apartment isn’t far—she could have walked. But why wouldn’t she wait for me to drive her? My heart races. Is she really pulling away? Shouldn’t I have expected this? Why the hell did I let myself fall for someone who might never stay?

I take a fast shower, pull on a nice pair of pants and a button-down, and Jaxon does the same. Then we head out, my shoulders tight with thought, stepping into the night.

“Are we grabbing Jami?” Jaxon asks.

“Not sure.”

“Let me text her.”

I drive slowly, waiting for the reply. When the text comes back, he says, “She’s got a lift.”

“With who?” Damn. That came out way more jealous than I intended.

“I don’t know. Want me to ask?”

“No…as long as she’s got a ride.”

He stares at me for a beat longer than feels comfortable. I try not to squirm. Fuck. Maybe I should just tell him. Clear the air. Get it all out. But…I want to talk to Jami first tonight before doing anything we might regret.

Cars line the street as we pull into Ma’s for one of her famous kitchen parties—drinks, music, singing, too much food, and way too much cake. Normally I’d love this chaos. Tonight, I’m anxious.

The door swings open before we even reach it. Ma throws her arms around me. “Happy birthday, Brody!”

“Thanks, Ma.”

The kids come barreling in, initiating a tickle war. I lift them onto my feet, spinning them around, all the while scanning the room. Who’s here—and more importantly, who isn’t—because that could clue me in on who’s driving Jami.

Once the kids take off into the other room, I head to the kitchen. Sadie, Verna, Theresa, and Rachel are helping Ma set up the buffet.

“Jami here?” I ask casually.

“Not yet,” Verna says. “Why, you miss her?” The others nudge each other, grinning. I just shake my head.

“Of course he doesn’t miss her,” Ma scolds, pointing her spatula at them. Then she smiles, brilliant as ever. “Elise is here. She’s in your old bedroom. Said she needed to talk to you in private.”

My stomach tightens. “What about?”

She winks, whacking me lightly on the butt with her spatula. “Rumor has it, she’s staying in town. Now go, talk to her.”

What the fuck?

I trudge up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. I’m not looking for a confrontation with Elise—and the last thing I want is to hurt her—but she needs to know by now that we’re never getting back together. Not now, not ever.