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“But let me be clear, Melody: you were never in charge.”
I suck in a breath.
And he smiles.
32
JACOB
We take turns sampling the different flavors of ice cream. She likes chocolate, unsurprisingly, and the peppermint. She makes a face at the banana flavor and gags when she tries the chocolate-strawberry-vanilla.
Staring at the offensive ice creams, she sighs. “How can I like fruit buthatefruit-flavored ice cream?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
She glances at me. I’ve claimed the plain vanilla for my own, stirring in hot fudge and chocolate chips and topping it with nuts and sprinkles. We sit on the floor, our backs against the bed, with a perfect view of the city. The lights are off. In a way, it’s romantic.
That’s what she deserves.
To be wooed and cherished. And sometimes, she deserves to be called a dirty little whore and fucked like an animal.
I don’t make the rules.
“My dad called.” She glances at me, then away, and sticks a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
Her dad.
The one in prison.
“How’d he get your new number?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Figured I should talk to him, though.”
I put together the pieces. “That’s why you asked about Stone Ridge?”
“Yeah.”
“I should go with you.” I want to look this fucker in the eye and make sure he didn’t hurt her. Because she can’t tell me. But if she sees him, it might trigger something. A memory or a feeling. And I want to be there to catch them. I want to be there to collect all her memories and safekeep them for her.
“I was going to go tomorrow.” Her eyes are on the window.
I study the slope of her nose. Her eyelashes as she blinks. Her high cheekbones. Her glasses are forgotten in the bathroom. She didn’t make a fuss about them when she was blowing me at the restaurant, although I should’ve pulled them off. Now, it makes me wonder how good the view is if everything is blurry.
I hop up and retrieve them. She takes them without a word, sliding them on her face, then sighs.
“Any clarity?” I ask.
Melody rolls her eyes. “No.”
“We can visit him before our flight. Not tomorrow, but the next day.” I take her hand and press my thumb into the heel of her palm. My mom sometimes massages my dad’s hands like this. They don’t always see eye to eye, but they still love each other.
“Maybe.”
The night seems young, even though it’s well past midnight. I don’t have to be anywhere until noon. We have brunch plans with Knox, Greyson, Miles, and Steele. They’re all here for the final game. And the girls. Knox is the only one flying solo nowadays, although he hasn’t said a word about it.
Doesn’t seem to care either. He’s with a new girl every weekend. He gets his kicks however he can get them, and he doesn’t want a relationship. The idea repulses him.
Fine by us. We’re content to let him be managed by his agent, a big dude who used to rep some football asshole who has since retired, and steer him away from media scandals.
