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Close enough for me to read between the lines when she starts talking.
“Jolie stayed over with me the past two nights. I get the impression she’s pretty beat up about something.”
I’m frozen, not only with the fact that Joy just basically told me she knows about us in other words, but also thinking about Joey being so upset she can’t be alone. Though I’m glad she decided not to be, I would rather her be in my bed. Inmyarms.
Joy stares out at everyone dancing but continues talking. “Good news is today I think I knocked some sense into her.”
I simply listen.
“She had this strange notion that relationships are easy. I don’t know where she got that from, but they sure as hell aren’t.” She squeezes my arm tightly with hers. “I got through to her. She’s not as stubborn as people think. Just… avolcano. She explodes like thunder but she sure is worth the show.”
My God, that woman is a show. Jolie has always loved living. She has sunflowers for eyes and fireworks in her soul. “Yeah. She’s… special.” I have to keep it curt or I’ll get choked up thinking about her.
Joy talking about her now is making my mouth dry. Is this code for me and Jolie actually getting a chance to talk? I hoped for it. I’ve known Joey for a long, long time, and one thing I know is she can be volatile. I want to let Joy’s not-so-subliminal messages give me hope.
We stare at my cousins and aunts and friends of the Canyon, dancing in a line. Laughing. Missing steps.
I put my beer down on the table behind me. “Sorry, Joy, I’m going to head up to my room. I think I ate too much yesterday and just need to lie down.”
“Okay, sweetie.” She pats my arm. “You feel better now.”
“Thanks.” I turn to leave.
But she calls my name. “Ashton?”
“Yeah?”
“You know that thing fathers do when they show their daughter’s boyfriend their shotgun?”
Age-old story. I lift my brows with an affirmative.
She smiles, reminiscent of her tough, sassy daughter. “Jolie’s dad isn’t here. And I don’t have a shotgun. But… you know what I’m saying.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t you, dear?”
I know exactly what she’s saying. Hurt Jolie, and Joy will come running with torches and pitchforks. But I’ve already hurt Joey. And a lot more people will hurt, too, so even though deep down I know Joy is well-meaning and has given us her blessing, the story is thicker than she knows.
Up in my room, I have a hockey puck in my hand that I toss up an inch and catch. Over and over again. It’s a meditative movement that sometimes helps me zone out when I’m stressed. The weight of the puck, the soft slap of it in my palm, can sometimes be soothing. But not today. The music winds its way up two floors to my room, and it’s pissing me off. I grip the puck and pull out my phone to look at property listings within an hour of the Canyon again to pass time until I can leave the house without anyone noticing and knock down Jolie Hunter’s goddamn front door.
We need to talk.
“Knock, knock.” My mom eases my door open. “Hey. Fletch just arrived downstairs, so it’s time to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ and cut the cake. You should come down.”
I don’t say anything. I can hardly look my mom in the face at this point. I managed on Thanksgiving to act normal, having a big dose of booze, but now I’m sober, and anger simmers beneath the surface, because for the past thirty minutes, the main question running through my head is—why shouldIhave to be the one to tell my brother?
My mom did this. She was the one who strayed. Who made the mistake, albeit the best mistake of her life because I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love Fletch. But… fuck…
She considers me for a moment before saying, “I thought Jolie would be here by now.”
And that’s when I pop. “No, Mom, Jolie isn’t coming tonight.” I’m seething.
“I…” Obviously, she’s had some sort of talk behind my back with Joy Hunter because she brings the same optimistic banter to the situation. “I thought you two were getting along really well these days?”
I glare silently at the puck in my hand so I don’t send disrespect in my mom’s direction.
“Ashton? Did something happen with Jolie?”
“No, Mom.” I put the puck on the bed and push myself up to face her. “It’s more about whatdidn’thappen with Jolie that’s the problem.”
“You two have been together and…” She shakes her head back and forth, asking for me to finish her sentence.
