Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (25 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

- Dani -

All week I debate answering Jax’s calls. His text said he wanted to explain. Explain what? That my boobs aren’t big enough? That my hair isn’t bleached the right shade? That my IQ doesn’t match my shoe size? Because I’m sure the girl he ran off with had that in spades.

What a fucking prick. 

My anger rages like a black and destructive storm until I think about my mom, and then it feels like my chest might collapse on itself.

How do you live when you know the one person you love more than life itself will die? How do you go on? How do you do the routine shit like go to school and do laundry and concentrate on homework when your mom’s very existence sits like an hourglass running out of sand?

Sometimes it’s too much, and I can’t breath. Some days I go through the motions like an automaton, one step in front of the other, until whatever stupid task is accomplished. Like today.

 I sit in class as my professor drones on.

When the lecture ends, I don’t have a clue what he said or what I could have written on three sheets of notebook paper. Because the class might be discussing analytics and responsive design and viral content, but I only hear four words: Your mother is dying.

When the lecture is over, I pack my bag and wander into the hall.

“Ms. Hart?”

I turn to find a man in an expensive suite walking briskly toward me.

He says my name again, and I nod. The man extends his hand toward an alcove off to the side, ushering me out of the path of oncoming students.

“Ms. Hart, I’m Phillip Berringer, Jackson Avery’s attorney.”

I tilt my head. Did I hear that right? Jax’s attorney? I try to swallow only to realize I can’t.
Why did he send his attorney?

He hands me an envelope. “I understand you were involved in a car accident. Mr. Avery said he’d like for you to sign this. He hopes this check covers the inconvenience of what happened last week.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. Again, my lips part, and I feel like a fish washed up on land, gasping for breath.

Finally, my lungs fill. “Jax… Jax sent you?”

The man nods, motioning for me to open the envelope I’m gripping. A piece of rectangular paper flutters to the ground when I unfold the contract, and I stare at it, wondering what kind of price Jax put on our friendship.

The man picks up the check and hands it to me.

I stare at the numbers before my eyes shift to the nondisclosure agreement. I don’t have to read the words to know what this means. Jax wants me to keep my mouth shut about the accident, and he hopes he can seal the deal with cold, hard cash.

Blinking several times, I fight the tears forming in my eyes.

#FuckingAsshole

* * *

- Jax -

“I told you,” my mother snorts into the phone.

“What, Mother? What did you tell me?” I roll my eyes. The text from my sister minutes ago has me headed for my car.

“When will you learn?”

“I’m late for an appointment, so if you want to say something, spit it out.” I reach for my keys when I spot my car on the other side of the street.

“When will you learn that every girl has her price?” I stop in the middle of the crosswalk, but before I can say anything, Joselyn drops the bomb. “That girl took the deal. And she was cheap. The dent in your grille will cost more to repair.”

My hand trembles as I hold my phone. I close my eyes.

Tell me this isn’t happening again.

A horn honk gets me out of my catatonic state, and I make it to the sidewalk before I look down at my cell, the sound of my mother’s voice warbling through it.

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hand, I press until white dots appear. And then I pitch my phone at a nearby tree and watch it shatter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

- Dani -

Sleeping next to Travis is getting old. He hogs the bed, and despite his insistence that he doesn’t snore, he does. Loudly. After two weeks of bumping around each other in his single dorm room, I’m sure he’s ready to get rid of me too.

“I’m going home today,” I tell him over breakfast.

His eyebrows shoot up. “No shit. Really?”

“I’ve taken up enough of that prime real estate,” I say, nodding toward his bed. “Besides, I need to talk to Clem. It’s overdue. I can’t hide out the rest of my life.”

“Sweets, you can stay here as long as you want. You know that, right?”

I reach over and hug him. “I appreciate that, but I need to be a big girl.” Resting my forehead on his chest, I try not to think about what I’ll do when I don’t have him by my side. When I’m in Chicago and he’s here.

He keeps his arms wrapped around me. As though reading my thoughts, he asks, “Have you decided what you’re going to do next semester?”

“I guess I’m going home. I contacted Northwestern about transferring, but there are, like, a thousand kids ahead of me. But I don’t think I have a choice, right?”

He runs his hand over my head. “No, honey. I guess you don’t.” He sighs. “Maybe you should wait and see. Don’t make any decisions until you can talk to your mom.”

I nod to appease him, but I think we both know what’s going to happen.

We sit in silence as the tears stream down my face. We do this a lot lately. Travis has gotten good at just letting me break down. Today I cry because my mom has cancer. Because I’m going to have to leave my best friend. Because it looks like I’ll have to drop out of school for a while even though I can’t bring myself to make it official.

And underneath it all, I cry about Jax. That I miss him as much as I do when I’m barely an afterthought to him.

After wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, I glance at the time. “I have an errand to run today before work, so I’d better get going.”

Travis grabs his now soggy cereal and swirls his spoon in the bowl. “BC won the championship game last night,” he says quietly.

Nodding, I let out a weak laugh. “I know. Jax scored two goals.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying again.

Travis’s eyes harden. “I still can’t believe that fucker sent you a contract.”

“Nothing says love like non-disclosure.” My composure dissolves as my eyes fill with tears again. “Rich people, huh?”

Travis pulls me back to him.

He called me an inconvenience, like I was an unplanned oil change or a cavity that needed filling.
I thought seeing Jax traipse off with another girl hurt, but this about knocked my heart out of my body.

As I walk down Bay State Road several hours later, I try to soak in this street I love so much. Everything is bathed in white. Snow perches along every window ledge and cobblestone, and twinkle lights peek out from a few windows, announcing that it’s almost Christmas. In the fading light of evening, it’s so breathtaking, it’s almost painful, reminding me of the postcard I kept on my pin board at home when I was a senior in high school, the one that made me want to move halfway across the country.

My brownstone is the fourth one on the left, and from the narrow street below I can see my room, shades drawn and dark. Just seeing it makes my heart speed up.

I can do this.

I’m glad I waited this long to return because I think I’m all cried out. I’ll tell Clem what happened, apologize, and be done with it. All I can do is hope she’ll understand. Even if she doesn’t, I probably won’t be here next semester anyway, so she can live with it for another week while we take our finals, and then I’ll be out of her hair.

When I reach my building, the limo pulling up makes me do a double-take, and I freeze mid-step when I realize why it’s here. Crap, the banquet.

Daren Sloan, Mr. Football himself, jumps out, and before I get a chance to feel awkward, he yanks me into a big hug.

“Congrats, Daren,” I say into his tuxedo, barely still standing upright after he nearly pulled me off my feet.

“Thanks, Dani.” He holds me out in front of him as he scans my new look. “I love the red. It suits you.” I took the pink out of my hair last week and dyed large swaths of red for a photoshoot.

I force myself to smile. “Great game against Syracuse.”

He beams that prime-time smile. “Thanks.” He motions toward my place. “Could you tell the girls we’re down here?”

I nod and my eyes drop to my feet. From inside, Gavin and Ryan tell me hi, and I’m about to return their greeting when I hear a giggle and then a breathy, “Jax.” I turn slightly and, through the open limo door, see a long, tanned leg through the slit of a glittery white dress.

My mouth unhinges, and I try to hold in a gasp.

He’s here. With another girl.

#UnFuckingBelievable

You’d think the check and confidentiality agreement would’ve been enough for my stupid little heart to go stone cold for Jax Avery. I want to smack myself in the head for being in knots over this guy for the last couple of weeks. I should move on. He clearly has.
Because I obviously missed the memo the last two times he left me for other women.

I roll my eyes.
So predictable
. I turn and run up to my building.

Luckily, I’m heading in as Clem and Jenna are heading out, and they both look stunning.

“Holy shit, Dani. Where have you been?” Jenna asks as she hugs me. When she releases me, I lean over and hug Clem.

“Just hanging out with Travis.” She knows this. I’ve texted her every couple of days to let her know I’m alive. “You two look drop-dead gorgeous,” I say in my perkiest voice even though I’m still dying a slow death from what happened in the limo.

Clem grabs my arm. “We miss you. Glad to see my brother left you in one piece.”

My brow furrows. “Oh, the car accident.” An empty laughter falls from my lips as I paste a fake smile on my face. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Barely.

We agree to do lunch the next day to catch up, and then I watch them disappear down the stairs. When I’m back in my room, I collapse on my bed, too tired to pack my room or study. I need some rest if I plan to have that talk with Clem tomorrow.

One more week. That’s all I have left here. Ignoring my compulsion to cry, I reach for some blank paper and start to draw.

Getting ditched on his kitchen table wasn’t humiliating enough? You had to go and leave your art journal at his place?

Who knows what Jax thought when he went through it. At least, I imagine he went through it. Unless he simply threw it away. He tossed me to the curb. Why wouldn’t he just ditch some book?

I shake my head, not letting myself go down another Jax Avery spiral. This is it. Just a few more days. When I leave Boston, I won’t have anything to remind me of him.

Except feeding him pancakes.

And how he laughs when he thinks I’m being a goof.

And the way he feels against my bare skin in the shower.

Ugh! The pen in my hand immediately starts drawing thick, dark lines, and inside a cage, the edges of a butterfly start to take shape. Why I placed a butterfly inside a cage is beyond me, but that’s the beauty of art. I don’t have to understand it, just express it.

Which is why my business classes mess with my head. When I’m asked to explain why I think a particular image works for a marketing campaign, I can talk in art terms, about the shades of color or the weight of fonts, not business terms that dissect the beauty from anything aesthetic the way a scalpel dissects a frog.

Before that call from my mom, I was ready to make the leap, to switch majors, but now, knowing I really will be alone soon, I have to finish my business degree, even if it’s not here at BU. Because I’ll only have myself to rely on.

Even though I tuck myself away in my favorite flannel sheets and down comforter and I’m so tired my eye sockets hurt, sleep is elusive.

Why couldn’t Jax have been an asshole the whole time I stayed with him? Why did he have to pretend he cared if he didn’t?

Clem and Jenna come home late, and I wonder what the night was like. Maybe it’s better that I didn’t go. It looks like I’m moving for good, and it would be just that much harder to leave someone like Jax anyway.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

* * *

The next morning is quiet, and I sit on the couch drinking coffee, trying to commit this apartment to memory. A rumpled cashmere blanket hangs off the edge of our couch. A dozen Pizza Hut napkins rest on our micro-fridge. Several pairs of boots sit in a neat pile by the door.

I’ll miss this place.

Reaching for my bag, I pull out a manila folder and leaf through the eight-by-ten photos Brady dropped off to me at work yesterday. Despite how uncomfortable I felt taking them, I have to admit they’re beautifully shot, and although there was ample opportunity for awkwardness, he made me relax. He treated me with respect. He was a gentleman.