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“I don’t know, Gabe, what could be possibly be wrong?” She sidesteps me. “Mom cries so much the nurses call me five times a day. I had to withdraw from two classes because I spend more time in Southlake than I do on campus. And my brother is an asshole who ditched his family and wants to leave me homeless.”
David slips around his desk and gives her a quick side hug like hostility isn’t steaming off her skin.
“You’re not even living there,” I say. “The house is worth millions. Do you know how much time that would buy Mom at The Oasis? How much school that would pay for you?”
“Iamliving there. I moved back in. It’s the only place I feel close to her.” Wiping a thumb under each eye, she steps away from David to hug herself. “And if you wouldn’t have blown off your job and got fired, you wouldn’t have to sell my memories.”
Something in my chest spasms. “I didn’t blow off—”
“What did you think would happen when you showed up on set drunk? When you took off for Mexico to party in the middle of filming the mid-season finale?”
“Idiedin the mid-season finale.” I cross stiff arms over my cramping chest. “Not much point in being there.” I look at David—the only source where she could’ve gotten that information. “Why can’t you stay out of my damn business?”
Too sophisticated to sayare you shitting me, he lets his jaw translate the message with a steel tic. “If you remember, this last timeyoureached out tome. Next time, don’t. Not unless you’re ready to grow up.” There’s a finality I’ve never seen backboning the spine of his stare.
“Good job.” Coley’s squeezing herself so tight, I’m not sure she can breathe. “Alienate the one person who cares. The one person who’s handling this when he doesn’t even have to. Who’s going to take care of us now? Not you.”
I fist both hands so I don’t kick the desk. “Did you really think Mom put money into your account? Paid your tuition? She lost everything—of hers and mine—and nobody noticed. Not even David”—I jerk my head toward him—“the planning god. All that shit’s on me.” I slap my chest. “Unlessyouwant to work.” I know I’m being a dick—there’s no way she can support herself, let alone Mom—but there’s an earthquake bursting every seam I have, and I can’t stop what it’s shaking loose.
“I’ll get right on that. Maybe I can strip for money.” Coley’s face crumbles into a mix of defeat, desperation, and depression.
“No one’s stripping for money.” David turns on his referee mode. “Gabe’s signing a new contract with the show.”
Because I can’t stand to see my sister fall apart, and I can’t stand under the weight of the blame David’s piling on me, I let go of everything I want and stalk over to the desk. Taking the pen and the contract with me, I walk out of the office and slam the door on my effed-up life as a stand-in for my middle finger.
chapter 45
Jess
T gives me more of a rush than riding roller-coasters at Six Flags. Although we had fun doing that too. The only time I feel okay is when we’re together. I hate the hours we’re apart. I hate listening to Mom cry. I hate the way the house feels empty without Dad. I hate that I care that he’s gone when he doesn’t care that he left. I thought I’d feel better without the constant fighting, but the quiet seems to be a hell of its own.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
Something tickles my toe. Skims my ankle. Caresses my calf where I rolled the leg of my yoga pants. I offer a sleepy smile from where I’ve crashed on my stomach, head at the end of the bed.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know it’s Gabe. Even if my room didn’t smell of shower gel and fresh laundry, the tingles dancing along my skin are becoming very familiar. And I did leave the adjoining door cracked open last night after he kissed me goodnight and tucked me in. “What happened at the meeting with your agent?”
He taps my thigh until I scoot enough for him to sit. “It sucked.”
I lift up on my elbow. “The show’s taking you to court.” Or worse. My stomach tightens. Is there worse?
“They offered me a new contract.” There’s an ocean of ache in his eyes where there should be a sea of relief.
“That’s not good news?” I tread lightly. Eggshells meet tiptoes.
“There was a lot of small print. Coley showed up.” He grips my ankle.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing helpful.” He glides his hand up and down my leg, then works the muscle in my calf with his thumb the way he did with the arch of my foot last night.
I know I can’t fix whatever happened this morning, but I want to help. “Gabe—”
“Did you write about one-fang vamps?” He glances at the open laptop on the end of my bed.
Maybe helping is letting it go. “I left the vamps for you to write.” Gabe’s words last night backed me into a corner, and I did try to write something else. But the same thing happened that always happens—no words appeared on the page.
Smiling, he splays his palm over my hip, tracing tiny circles over my pajama pants with his thumb, sparking something much stronger than tingles.
