Page 41 of Insincerely Yours


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“Do you ever find yourself on the West Coast?” he asks.

The fact that Sienna looks about three seconds from tearing her metaphorical claws into my jugular should be enough of a hint, but surely Jase can’t be serious.

That twinkle in his eye says it all.

He’s enjoying siccing Sienna on me. Why give her what she wants when he knows he can make her work for it? Not to mention, it comes with the added benefit of him knowing Sienna will torturemeas a consequence in the meantime.

The question ruminates for far too long, and I can see Sienna’s grip on her silverware tightening to the point I wouldn’t be surprised to see it bend. Still, she plasters on a smile, looking back at Jase once more. “So, I hear you gave up being a goon in favor of starring as a forward at your new high school. How have your hockey prospects panned out?” she asks a little too sweetly.

I don’t want to look, but it’s like trying to ignore a car crash playing out in front of you. Because I know that tone. It’s the one Sienna always uses when she’s being her usual passiveaggressive bitchy self. I just never heard her direct that tone athim.

I hold out for as long as I can, only to meet Jase’s eyes the second I lift my gaze up at the pair.

He simply shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Blew out my ACL at the beginning of the season our senior year.”

I shouldn’t care, but a knot forms in my stomach the size of a cantaloupe.

Because there’s only one reason why he would have given up his role as an enforcer on his new team.

Jase, however, doesn’t miss a beat, instead shifting the conversation and the focus back on me. “You always had a camera in your hand when we were younger, and you went through SDHC cards like they were Skittles. Did you decide to pursue anything with your photography? Art degree, maybe?”

Now,I’mthe one dishing out noncommittal shrugs, but it’s only because I can’t seem to get my mouth to work. Not when Sienna’s glaring at me with an intensity so high it could sear a hole through my face.

Lauren’s eyebrows furrow as she looks down the table at me. “Derek said you were going into Psychology.”

Blythe actually laughs. “Oh, heavens no. We already agreed the workload would be too demanding. General Business ismuchmore Ali’s speed.”

She may say this with a breezy demeanor, but the implication is there no less.

Despite the hell I went through in high school, I always managed to make the Principal’s Honor Roll every semester, but because Vanessa graduated as Salutatorian of her class, that somehow makes me the “shit-for-brains” by default.

Lauren looks uncomfortable, to say the least, and Aria suddenly finds her salad fascinating enough that her eyesbecome glued to it. Then there’s Sienna, who has to press her lips together to prevent grinning like a possum.

Jase, however, does nothing to hide his laugh.

But it’s not one produced from humor.

It’s the kind of breathless sound you make when you’ve been punched in the stomach—the air practically torn from your lungs.

It’s the sound of incredulity.

Even though he may be an asshole, and even though he may hate me, there is one thing I’ve always known about Jase to be true: he protects his family. And to say that Blythe doesn’t share the sentiment is pretty goddamn evident.

The look he gives her does everything short of audibly demanding,“What the fuck?”

I don’t dare glance down the table, so I can’t be sure if my stepmom even sees it.

Likely not.

If she had, the expression on Jase’s face may very well have turned her to stone. I’m confidentthathasn’t happened, because Blythe doesn’t miss a beat, engaging Aria’s mom in another conversation. She chats about some charity functions, but I don’t hear much of it.

Downing what’s left of my water, I rise from the table with the glass in hand and skulk back into the kitchen.

I want to scream at myself for the tears that burn behind my eyes, because I know I’m better than this. It’s not like what Blythe said is anything new. It’s just the seven hundred and seventy-ninth paper cut of the thousand leading to my inevitable death.

I’d been so focused on readying myself for Sienna’s verbal assault that I’d forgotten about the enemy at my side. In the year I’d been away, I’d gotten complacent, out of practice.

But the fact that I even feel the need to strap on mental fighting leathers for a goddamn family dinner speaks volumes.