Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (28 page)

I stiffen, not sure what to tell her. I want to make her feel better, for her to know I’ll be okay, but the aftershocks of what happened with Jax are too fresh.

“No.” My eyes shift to my lap. “Not really.” She lifts my chin, forcing me to look at her, so I add, “There was someone, but it didn’t work out.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What happened?”

A thousand things run through my mind. Jax is a total player. I lied to him by not telling him what happened on his birthday. He ran off with a blonde and left me in his room naked. I finally go with, “It’s complicated.”

Her mouth twists, and she gives me a knowing look. “Was it the boy who hit you with his car?”

My mouth falls open. “Seriously, how do you do that?” I never gave her any indication I liked Jax.

She laughs. “Ah, I nailed it.” With a little wink, she pats me on the hand. “I thought you sounded a little too happy after getting knocked on your ass by a BMW.”

I groan, embarrassed.

“Okay, so tell me about him. I want all the details.” She watches me over the lip of her mug as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

“How about
some
of the details?” I ask, feeling my face flush.

Her grin widens. “It’s juicy. I can tell!” She wiggles a little in her seat like I just dropped the best bit of gossip in her lap.

I’m not used to talking to my mom like she’s a girlfriend. Sure, she’s always been supportive, but deep down I’m kind of a shy person when it comes to talking about my love life, especially with my mother.

“Spill it. I’ve been cooped up all fall. I need something good. Let’s start with the basics. How cute is he?”

I drop my head into my hands and groan again. “He’s definitely
not
cute. So not cute. He’s hot. Like off-the-charts hot. Like out-of-my-league hot.” The word volcanic comes to mind.

She tsks me like I’ve been bad. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are gorgeous, my girl. A guy would have to be a total dumbass not to see that.”

I laugh and shake my head. It’s still weird that she curses.

“Well, he
is
an ass, so there’s that.” I start to tell her how we met, leaving out my goal that night of a one-night stand. I change the “he went down on me at the club” to “we kissed.” Scrubbing the rest of the story to give it a parent-worthy PG-rating, I finally get to the end, that after hanging out the entire Thanksgiving break “snuggling,” he bolted with another girl.

“Hmm,” she says. “Well, I’m surprised ‘snuggling’ got you to turn that shade of red, but I’ll let it go for now.” She nudges me with her elbow, and I fight the fire that’s taken residence in my face. “It sounds like you weren’t super honest with him, and I’m surprised you left without a fight, especially since it seems like you were pining over him all semester.”

I gasp. “I was not pining.”

She snickers at me. “Here’s the thing, Dani. You said his family is estranged, that he comes from a very wealthy background. Those kind of people aren’t exactly known for their love and affection for their children.”

My lips twist as her words seep in. Having lived with Clementine for the last several months was eye-opening. Her parents have all but disowned her, which sucks because she’s amazing. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her brother.

And then my mom really surprises me. “I think you should give him another chance.”

“What?” This is the last thing I expect my mom to say. “Why should I do that? He’s a total man-whore, Mother. I can’t believe you’d want me with someone like that.”

“Someone who waited on you hand and foot while you recovered from your injuries?” she asks, all judgmental.

“Ugh. Fuck. Why do you have to remind me?” Realizing I dropped an f-bomb, I apologize.

She laughs. “It’s okay. But if you’re going to say it, really mean it. It’s better that way.” She elbows me again. “So I’m guessing the sex was good?”

“Holy shit.” I cover both of my eyes like she’s blinded me. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” Who is this person and what has she done with my parent, the one who used to block the TV from my view when people kissed?

She continues as though she did not just ask me about screwing. “Sexual compatibility is very important in a relationship. I wish someone would’ve told me that when I was younger. I probably wouldn’t have married your father. I mean, a penis should be good for something.”

I might die now.

She adds, “Of course, I’d go through it again just to have you, but our sex life was about as exciting as grouting a tub.”

Okay, my parents did not have good sexy times. Duly noted. That must explain the divorce. But I probably could have done without that bit of information. I scratch my head, wondering if this conversation is going to land me in therapy some day.

At some point, my horror begins to subside, and we move on to other things. I even get the nerve to show her my tattoo, which she loves.

By 7:30, I can tell she’s exhausted. I help her use the restroom before I tuck her into bed.

I’m just about to walk away when she grabs her chest and winces.

“Mom? Are you okay? What do you need?”

She points to the closet. I think she’s going to direct me to some stash of meds or painkillers or even a bag of pot, but she has me grab a wrapped gift.

“Why don’t we do this in the morning?” I hand it to her, worried that I’m wearing her out.

“No. I want to give it to you now.”

I swallow hard, afraid to speak, knowing that we’re running out of time. When I can breathe again, I tell her I need to grab her gift, and I use those few minutes to collect myself.

She laughs when she opens my present and reads it out loud. “I paid for my kid to go to Boston University, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” She looks at me and grins. “I fucking love it!”

I shake my head at her and chuckle at her profanity.

But my laughter fades the moment she pulls off her sweater and I see her skeletal frame. Slowly tugging on the t-shirt, she mumbles something about how the school should give these away considering how expensive the tuition is.

By the time she settles back on the pillows, she’s out of breath but pushes on to talk. Grabbing my wrist, she says, “Promise me you’ll graduate. There’s enough money. I took out a decent life insurance when your father left, and it’s all yours.”

She rattles off more mandates, like I should sell the house because there’s still a big balance on the mortgage; I should trade in her car and get something new; I might want to move somewhere warmer eventually. I can tell she’s running through a checklist in her mind, the kind you make just before going on a trip.
Take out the trash, unplug the coffee maker, lock all the doors.

She grips my hand again. “Danielle, don’t be afraid to fall in love. It’s scary as hell, but it’s worth it.”

The tears drip down my face so when she eventually motions to open the gift in front of me, it takes my eyes a few moments to focus.

It’s hard to unwrap something you know is probably the last thing a loved one will ever give you. The paper is beautiful, and my shaking fingers struggle to open it without tearing the pattern, but with each tear, the fabric of my life unravels just a little more.

The gold locket glimmers in my hand.

It snaps open. Inside is a picture of my mom and me, cheek to cheek, grinning like lunatics before I left for Boston my freshman year.

“One side for all my love that you’ll always carry with you. The other side is for that special man who knows a good thing when he sees it.”

The empty side feels like such a huge void, and my chest clenches at the reminder that Jax is no longer in my life.

Nodding, I smile, wanting her to see only my gratitude. She doesn’t need to see my heartache.

She helps me put on the delicate chain, and as it dangles down my collarbone, she puts her frail hand across the gold heart and sighs.

“Danielle, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m so proud of you. Never forget that.” And for the first time today, tears stream down her cheeks. “I’m sorry we don’t have more time.” She scrunches her eyes. “Goddamn it. I never showed you how to change a tire.”

I laugh at the absurdity of my mom even knowing how to change a tire, much less wanting to show me how to do it. We hug, and I hold her close, grateful for every minute we have together.

By the time I close her door, I’m somehow sure that tonight is one of the best and worst nights of my life.

Before I go to bed, I text Jenna four words:
Please send my stuff.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

- Jax -

If I knock any harder, Travis might call the cops, but I have to do something. I couldn’t sleep after I got the text from my sister telling me Dani isn’t coming back, and after some major creeper-type behavior on Google, I tracked down her best friend at his house in the ’burbs.

The door finally swings open, and one very pissed-off and disheveled-looking Travis answers the door. “I should kick your ass. Waking me at the asscrack of dawn on Christmas isn’t even at the top of my list why I should smash that pretty face of yours.”

I hold my hands up, trying to make peace. “She’s planning to stay in Chicago.”

He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Shit.” He rubs his face again. “Yeah, I knew that was a strong possibility.” He shoots me another dirty look. “You didn’t exactly help the situation any, asshole.”

“I want to make it up to her. I need to make it up to her. But to do that, I need your help.”

“Explain why the fuck I should help you on Christmas when you’ve only been a shithead?”

“Because you care about Dani, and you know she’s going through a lot right now. And I can help her if she’ll let me.”

An older female voice yells from the hallway behind Travis. “Who’s there, son?”

“No one, Mom. Just an asshole.”

“
Mijo
, that’s not nice. Tell your friend to come in. I’m making coffee.” Pots and pans clatter. “Ask him if he wants some breakfast.”

I smile at Travis, breaking out the charm. “Your mom sounds lovely.” My smile broadens as his eyes narrow.

“God, you’re a good-looking fucker.” He sighs. “Fine. Come in. But this doesn’t mean I’m helping you.”

CHAPTER FORTY

- Jax -

My eyes are bleary and bloodshot. Chugging another Red Bull, I ignore the way my hand shakes from the caffeine. I don’t like how it reminds me of all-nighters and partying, but it does the trick and keeps me awake. Nauseous, but awake.

I toss the empty can in the back seat and listen to it rattle around with the others.

The skies are dark even though it’s ten in the morning. Salt and snow and dirt grind beneath my tires as I drive through the semi-deserted streets of Chicago.

I laugh to myself when I think about how pissed my mother is going to be when she finds out what I’m doing. Not that she’s the reason I’ve just driven a thousand miles, but telling her to fuck off is a definite perk.

I could barely contain my anger when I realized what she did, making it seem as though I was the one who wanted Dani to sign that fucking contract. No wonder Dani ignored all the texts I’ve sent her in the last two days. The girl probably wants to punch me in the throat. Hell, I want to punch myself in the throat.

God, I miss her.

I don’t bother looking in the rearview mirror before I switch lanes, which gets me several honks from the car behind me a second before a fist socks me in the arm.

“Don’t kill us before we get there, dickwad,” Travis grumbles from the passenger seat. “Remind me again why we’re not flying? Why aren’t you traveling my ass first-class?”

“We’ve been over this already. One, it’s Christmas. Or it was,” I say, looking at the date display on my phone. “Two, that snowstorm disrupted service in the Midwest, backing up flights. And three, the earliest one didn’t leave until tomorrow.”

He grunts at me, not bothering to reply.

It bothers me that Travis still thinks I’m a lower lifeform. I’ve told him everything, bared my soul to him, and he rolls his eyes at me like I’m the biggest douchebag he’s ever seen. Maybe I am. I guess I can’t fault him. I did some seriously stupid shit when it came to Dani, but I’m here to make it right.

Now that I know who she is, who she really is, I can’t let go. I’m an idiot for not seeing it sooner, for not realizing that she was probably just as afraid of what was happening between us as I was, and the second there was a reason to doubt her, I ran like hell. Fucking pussy.

As we drive through her neighborhood, Travis turns in his seat. He looks me over like he’s debating something. “When you ditched Dani at the club on your birthday, she was pretty crushed, and when you showed up at Ryan’s with another girl and didn’t remember her, she tried to brush it off, but I know she was hurt.” Then he tilts his head toward me to underscore what he’s about to say. “But when you left her over Thanksgiving, she was devastated.” I don’t need him telling me that was a dick move—I know it was—but the guilt residing in my chest tells me I deserve every minute of his tirade, so I sit here and take it.