Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (16 page)

- Dani -

He called me Dandelion. I don’t know why that nickname melted my heart, but I turned to mush the moment the word left his mouth. No one has called me that since I was a kid.

As Jax wheels me down the hall, a giant blue fuzzball gets my attention. “Look, Cookie Monster! I swear I saw him walking around last night.”

Jax looks down the hall toward the children’s ward and watches the life-sized character for a minute before turning back to me with the strangest expression on his face. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when his phone rings. After glancing at the caller ID, he groans.

The second he picks up, I hear an angry female voice yelling. At first, my heart sinks as I wonder if this is one of his girlfriends calling to complain about his change of plans. Several minutes later, he releases my wheelchair and leans against a pillar.

“Clem, I told you it was an accident.” He covers the phone and whispers, “She says she’s going to kick my ass for running over one of her friends.”

I wave for him to hand over the call. She’s still yelling when I put the phone to my ear. “Clem? They’re giving me some really good drugs here, so don’t yell at your brother. If I ever wanted a pill addiction, I’m well on my way.”

She growls into the phone, “I am fucking killing Jackson the next time I see him. I ask you to do us a favor, and this is how he repays you?”

“He’s been taking good care of me, so don’t be too hard on him.” I try to keep my voice casual. Jax starts to wheel me down the hall as I brace myself for bumps.

“Good. Make him your bitch.” Clem has a way with words.

I snort. “I don’t know about that…” I laugh despite the fact that every turn sends little shockwaves of pain through my body as we head toward the parking garage.

After a brief silence, she sighs. “Dani, do you want me to come home? Gavin would totally understand if—”

“No. Definitely not. Go have fun with your amazing boyfriend and his family. I will not be the reason you come back.” After a quick turn where I find myself gripping the armrest, I ask, “How’s it going over there?”

Clem doesn’t usually confide these sorts of details to me. I’ve gotten to know her because she’ll vent to our other roommates, and I happen to be around when they hang out, so I’m surprised when she answers my question.

She lowers her voice just above a whisper. “It’s fine, but I’m not used to all this getting-to-know-you shit. It makes me uncomfortable. Gavin is so outgoing and great with meeting people, and as we both know, I’m not. It makes me feel like I’m defective.”

She always looks so put-together that you’d never know she struggles with anything.

“Clem, I realize I only met you three months ago, but when you let your guard down, it’s hard not to love you. Let his family see the real you. Don’t be afraid about their judgment. Otherwise, it’ll be hard to relax. I find tequila works wonders. Or apple martinis.”

“Or morphine,” Jax says from behind me. I’m wondering what that means, but I can’t swivel my head around to look at him because my back is too stiff.

Clem sighs into my ear. “Thanks, Dani. Here you’re the one mauled by a car, and you’re giving me the pep talk.”

“If you need to get in a better mood, we could go a few rounds of Out-Skank.”

She blows out a breath. “Don’t get me started with that game. The last thing I need is for the words ‘cock monster’ or ‘cunt muffin’ to come up in a text message while I’m having dinner with Gavin’s family.”

I break out laughing, which makes me catch my breath until the pain subsides. When I get off the phone, Jax is quiet as he wheels me through the long, white corridors of the hospital.

“You okay back there?” I call out.

“Yeah. Just thinking about how you’re friends with my sister.” Something about the tone of his voice is off. He sounds distant.

“Why do you sound funny?” I might as well really say what’s on my mind.

I think the drugs the doctor gave me have lowered my inhibitions a little because I just want to be myself. I feel stupid for being so uptight around Jax these last few months.

That’s what I realized yesterday as I was crashing into the pavement a few inches from the tires of Jax’s BMW. My mom is right. Life is too short to have regrets. When I talk to her this weekend, I need to tell her that I understand.

Jax ignores my question so he can get the car, which Nick dropped off yesterday. He pulls up in front of me and opens the passenger door. I try to get out of the wheelchair but fail miserably.

“Don’t try to do that alone. Here.” He reaches over around my shoulders. “Are my hands okay here? I don’t want to press anything that’ll hurt.”

“This works,” I say, our faces inches apart.

He nods, his eyes passing over my face. I’m sure I look like hell, but I’m done being weird about him.

“If my morning breath kills you, at least we’re already at a hospital.”

He snickers before he scoops me up and helps me maneuver into his car. Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he turns to me with a grin. “First order of business. Food. Massive, massive amounts of food.”

“Isn’t everything closed? It’s Thanksgiving.”

“I’ve already done a little research and called in an order. I hope you’re hungry.” He pauses. “You’re not a vegetarian or vegan or anything weird, are you?”

Chuckling, I answer, “Hell, no. Bring the meat.”

He laughs. “Great. Because I can’t stand girls who eat a leaf and call it a meal.”

“That makes two of us. Besides, do I look like a girl who eats that way?”

Jax starts to say something but stops himself. I nudge his elbow with mine. “Come on. Don’t be weird. Say what’s on your mind.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up while he looks for traffic. “I was gonna say you look perfect, but I didn’t want it to go to your head.”

Warm fuzzies build in my chest, and I remind myself that he’s just being nice.

And you know what? I’ve decided that’s okay too. There’s nothing wrong with being nice. I’ve hated that description for so long, but I’m done apologizing for who I am.

#OwnIt

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

- Jax -

“You want some smashed potatoes?” Dani asks.

Her leg is propped up on the couch, and like the gentleman I’m trying to be, I’ve even given her full command of the remote control. An array of Thanksgiving food is spread out on the coffee table—everything from turkey and stuffing to green bean casserole and pie.

“Did you just say
smashed
potatoes?”

She grins, light beaming in her eyes. “Maybe.” The little giggle that escapes her mouth is so fucking adorable, I could kiss her. “That’s what my mom and I always call them.” I feign disappointment, which makes her smile widen even more. “Come on. You know you want to call them smashed potatoes now. Give in to the Force.”

“Are you making a veiled
Star Wars
reference?”

“Of course.”

“So that means you’re not a Trekkie?”

“No way.
Star Trek
is for geeks.
Star Wars
is for cool people.”

I’ve never seen her this way. Relaxed and funny. Usually, she’s quiet around me. Careful, even.

Rubbing the scruff on my chin, I ask, “How intense are those drugs you’re taking right now?”

She laughs, grabbing the remote control and flipping through the channels. “I’ll be honest. They’re pretty good. I can see how addictions form. A little something to take the edge off, and bam! I’m a meth-head with bad teeth and a dealer named Jerry. Ooh! You have hardcore sports channels. Okay, do you want to watch some Pac 10 featuring USC and Arizona or should we go pro with the Bears and Cowboys? I’m thinking pro because Daren’s game is on Saturday, and I want to save my college ball enthusiasm for BC. And then we definitely have to catch the Bulls tonight at eight.”

She turns to me, and the sight of this gorgeous girl on my couch asking me which game I want to watch on Thanksgiving practically gives me a semi.

“You like sports?” I ask.

“Yes. Actually, no.” Her eyes widen dramatically. “I
love
sports. Like, an all-consuming passion kind of love.”

All I can do is stare. “Who are you again?” Not only am I fucking thrilled I’m not stuck here watching
The Notebook
or some other crappy-assed romance, this girl actually wants to watch a game.

She laughs like this is not a big deal. “Thanksgiving means three things.” She holds up her hand to count. “Vast quantities of carbs, snoozing and sports. In no particular order.” She takes a deep breath and lets her head sink into my leather couch. “I don’t know… Almost dying has a way of putting things in perspective.” Her eyes shift toward me. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even thank you some day for trying to kill me.”

Dipping her fork into a pile of stuffing, she brings the plate closer to her mouth so she doesn’t have to lean over to shovel it in. I’m not used to seeing girls eat in front of me, and the fact that she seems so excited about the meal makes me grin.

Pointing at me, she says, “I want to hear about all the trouble you and Daren got into as kids. Your sister told me a story or two. Like, did you guys really cover her bed in worms when you were ten?”

I shake my head. This girl is cracking me up. “Did Clem bother to tell you that she started the war of worms?”

“War of worms?” She raises a suspicious eyebrow at me before she scoops up a mouthful of macaroni and cheese, moaning about how good it is. I find myself forgetting about my story as her mouth wraps around the fork.

Focus, asshole.

Scrubbing my face, I try to gather my thoughts. “Uh, there’s a creek that runs behind our neighborhood, and the three of us had gone fishing, which was idiotic because there was barely two feet of water. Anyway, Clem took a handful of worms and shoved them down the back of my shirt.”

“That seems ballsy.”

“She may or may not have been trying to get back at me for some other brotherly prank. But the worms down the shirt meant war. And Clem likes her things the way she likes her things. She’s all organized and shit, and she hated me touching her stuff. So that’s when I came up with the plan that Daren helped me execute.”

“So you covered her bed with worms, and when she came home, she freaked?”

I snicker. “Actually, she was
in the bed
when we covered it in worms.”

Dani’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

My laughter grows. “Yeah, payback is a bitch.”

“Oooh, I definitely don’t want to get on your bad side.” Her eyes are playful, and I’m kind of mesmerized by the small flecks of gold that dance in her green irises.

Her phone buzzes with a series of texts, and she reaches down to grab it. As she reads the one that popped up on the screen, her spine straightens. And then she laughs. Loudly.

“For a sec, I totally thought I was getting sexts from some random person.” She snorts. Dani holds the phone to her face while she reads in a mocking tone, “Tiffany is very eager to relive last Thanksgiving. And she wants to suck on you like a lollipop.” Her mouth makes a popping sound, and she giggles.

Holy shit.

She turns to me. Her eyes widen, and she stammers, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to read your message. Our phones are identical.” She grabs the other one sitting on the coffee table and holds it next to the one in her hand to make a matching set.

Shifting in my seat, I feel like I should apologize for Tiffany, but Dani turns to me with a huge grin. “May I?” She waves my phone at me. “I want to Out-Skank her.”

I swallow. “I’m sorry. What?”

Dani laughs like this isn’t weird at all. “Out-Skank. It’s this game all of my roommates play. We try to see who can send the dirtiest messages. Usually, there’s a prize.” She takes my silence to mean I’m on board.

Have I been abducted by aliens? Or is this incredibly hot girl on my couch about to sext another chick?

She holds up my cell, and I swipe my password automatically, barely taking my eyes off her. Then I watch as Dani’s fingers move across the screen.

She chews on her lip. “The irony here is that I’ve never actually sexted with a guy, but I’ve gotten pretty good at this game because my roommates are all total pervs.” She looks up at me. “Excluding your sister of course.” Then she winks and ducks down to finish sexting Tiffany.

My head is spinning with a thousand things I want to say, but I’m lost in the way this girl takes everything in stride, the way she makes light of difficult situations, how she somehow manages to make everything okay.

“There. That will get you a hot date.” She pushes send and sinks back down into the couch with a self-satisfied sigh. “Okay, Jackson, I’m thinking you need to teach me how to play poker. I’m too old to not know.”