Page 38 of P.S. I Hate You


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My stomach sinks. As lovely as that may sound, I’m appalled that he even suggested it. I owe Cindy more than that. She was the only one there for me when I needed someone, and I won’t turn my back on her now. This is where I belong. “I’m not just gonna leave Cindy and Jace here alone. They need me.”

“They were fine before you got there. They’ll be fine after you’ve gone.”

Something about his tone puts a sour taste in my mouth. This doesn’t sound like the same guy who brought me to a soup kitchen on our first date. The guy who broke down my defenses with his kind nobility. I’d still like to believe that wasn’t all for show like Jace said, but I’m having trouble wading through the haughty self righteousness to find him right now.

“I should go start dinner.”

Another sigh, followed by the click of his tongue. “Okay. Call me later. Love you.”

“Bye.”

Unbelievable.

I disconnect the call and sit stunned as I rehash the conversation in my head. There was zero empathy behind his words. I know Jace isn’t his favorite person, but I assumed he’d have a little compassion for Cindy at least.

I sweep my things up and set them in the nightstand drawer before heading into the kitchen. My mother wasn’t much of a cook, but her chicken soup always made me feel better when I was sick. The dish was passed down from her grandmother, and while I don’t have the exact recipe, I’m sure I can figure it out.

Peering into the fridge, I collect my ingredients. After locating a cutting board and a big chopping knife, I get to work. I dice the carrot, celery, and onion, then throw in a couple of chicken cutlets whole. Add some sprigs of parsley and a crack of pepper, and before long, the entire house smells like comfort.

The screen door creaks. I lean back to see who’s coming and find an exhausted Cindy shuffling through. “Hey! Welcome home,” I say with as much cheer as I can muster.

“I reckon the other mornin’ must have been an awful fright for y’all. I’m sorry.”

I pet her arm. “Don’t be sorry. Not like you planned on getting sick. I’m just glad you’re well enough to come home.”

She offers a groggy smile. “Ima go lie down.”

“Okay. I’ll bring you some soup when it’s ready.”

“Is that what I smell? You’re just full of surprises, ain’tcha?” She touches my cheek as she passes.

Minutes later, Jace barrels through the door like a tornado. “Hi,” I say when he stomps into the room.

His lip curls. “What are you doing?”

I look down at the half-shredded chicken on the cutting board, then back at him. “I’m making dinner.”

“Fixin’ to poison us all is more like it.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not completely inept in the kitchen. I’m sure I can handle throwing together chicken soup.”

He guides me backward and steps in my path to the stove. “Watchin’ servants make your meals doesn’t count as cookin’. Stick to what you know, princess—shoppin’ and spa days—and leave the hard stuff to me.”

Heat trickles up my face as I meet his narrowed gaze. “This act of yours is starting to get old real quick.”

“Who’re you tryna impress? My mom ain’t got no money. You got nothin’ to gain here.”

His spiteful words detonate a bomb in my chest. “Shut up! I’m tired of you throwing money up in my face like it’s a bargaining chip. I used to be rich—so what? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not anymore. In case you also forgot, my mother died over that wealth. So I don’t give a shit about money. Your mom is the only parent I have left, and fuck you for thinking my actions have an agenda other than carrying my own weight.” I shove him hard, but he only wobbles. “Get out of my way,” I grit through my teeth.

Blue flames explode in his eyes. I swear this man is going to be the death of me. For all the weeks I’ve tried to maintain my composure, it took me losing my shit to get a rise out of him. I will never understand him. Last night, he’s rolling around with me on the mat. Today, he wants to tear me apart. This Jekyll and Hyde behavior is exhausting, and I don’t have the energy for it. Right now, my only concern is Cindy.

But when I turn to bring her a bowl of soup, I find Jace stalled outside her door. My heart skips a beat. His mother brings a soft side out of him that he insists on hiding from the outside, but hecan’t hide it from me. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. You never get over it.

Grief ebbs and flows. Some days you’re fine, while others, you’re hit with a Mack truck of heartache, and the tears come out of nowhere. I never knew my father, but Jace is still reeling from the death of his. I imagine Cindy being sick just brings it all back. The sorrow, the pain, the fear of losing someone you love so much.

I stop beside him before going in. “There’s a whole pot of soup if you’re hungry. I think I made too much.” Without waiting for a response, I open the door and pad into Cindy’s room. Her body looks like a lump under her quilt, her dark hair wild and chaotic. “You should eat something,” I murmur.

She pushes to a sitting position and takes the bowl. “You didn't have to do all this.” She lifts the spoon and blows off the heat before taking a slurpy bite. “But I sure do appreciate it.”

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