I guess crying all night burns a lot of calories.
Taking a quick shower, I make sure to scrub away as many signs of my restless night as I can. What doesn’t wash away in the shower I cover up with makeup. Under-eye concealer, a touch of eyeliner and mascara, a slick of lipgloss. I shudder at the memory of that red stain on the corner of Jamie’s mouth.
Not dead center, but to the side. Exactly where a kiss would land if someone was trying to turn his face and keep a pair of treacherous lips off of him. Shaking my head, I shove away those thoughts. It doesn’t matter who kissed who first.
I’m going to New York University. I’ll be majoring in Marketing and Management and will get my Business Administration degree. I’m going to live with my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Rick and enjoy the best of New York City society. Fulfill my dreams. Make my family proud. Make myself proud.
And I’ll leave Jamie Walker in my past.
My throat closes up again and I must fight off a fresh wave of tears. Downstairs, in the kitchen, I find my mom hovering over the waffle iron. She smiles as she greets me, but there’s a shadow of concern in her bright blue eyes.
“Morning,” she says.
With her sandy blond hair tied in a ponytail over one shoulder, my mom could almost pass for my older sister. I look more like my Aunt Kathy than I do my mom. Mom and I share the same smile, though. Mine doesn’t quite make it to my eyes today. I can feel her studying me.
“Soo,” she says while sliding a waffle onto a plate, gesturing for me to sit at the table. “Would you like to talk about what happened last night?”
When my two siblings and I were little kids, Mom always seemed to know when one of us had gotten into something we shouldn’t have. We never figured out her secret, only that she always found out. Which has obviously transitioned to my current situation.
The corners of my mouth turn down as I stab my fork into the waffle. Golden syrup oozes out of the pitcher as I pour it. It makes me think of Jamie. He always drowned his waffles in sticky sweet goodness. And the reminder only makes eating breakfast that much more irritating and painful.
I stuff my mouth with a syrupy waffle and chew as fast as I can. Glancing up to see her staring at me as I swallow the bite and lick my lips, pretending to have no idea what she’s talking about. “Nothing happened last night.”
“I know that isn’t true,” she says gently, without scolding me for not telling her the truth. “Bo told me about it. Not the details. Just that something happened with you and the Walker boy.”
“J-Jamie,” I say with a catch in my voice. “Don’t call him the Walker boy. And… No, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did he try to…pressure you, Oakley?”
Alarmed, I look up. My jaw drops into a startled “O.” My mom has no clue and I don’t aim for her to get one. I fight the heat in my cheeks. “No. Nothing like that, Mom. It’s just that we had a fight, that’s all. I’m… I’ve decided that I’m going to NYU.”
Mom turns back to the stainless steel mixing bowl in her hands. Her voice is light and deceptively unconcerned. “Oh? I thought that was already decided. Kathy told me just yesterday that she has your room all ready.”
Mom’s blue gaze rises to pierce mine. “She’d have been so disappointed to find out you weren’t going to use it.”
I swallow the lump in my throat that feels like it will never go away. Taking my plate, I head for the French doors to the back patio before pausing in my step to shake my head. “Nope. Can’t wait. I’m going out back to eat at the patio table. It’s such a nice day.”
It’s a horrible day. The worst. I hate the bright June sunshine. The sound of birds doing their stupid singing. I hate the scent of freshly mown grass. The far-off lowing of cattle.
Closing my eyes, I manage to stop myself from bursting into tears, but only barely.
“Morning.” Bo yawns, stretching his arms over his head as he steps through the back door to the patio in nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts. “You look like you got hit in the face with an ugly stick.”
“Screw you, Bo.” My voice holds no heat, but my face probably shows my clear irritation.
“Whoa.” He exclaims. His brows rise to meet his hairline. “Shit. Are you okay? You guys really broke up last night, huh?”
“I don’t want to discuss it with you,” I reply, stabbing my waffles hard enough to clank my fork on the plate beneath it. Glaring at him, my eyes narrow. “How’d you know about that?”
Not that I should be surprised that he knows.
Bo looks wary. He scrubs his hand through his thick dark hair as he takes a seat in a chair next to me before cupping the back of his neck. The older he gets, the more he looks just like our dad, right down to the crease in his forehead that appears when he’s worried about something.
“Chet said there was some kind of argument with you and J. That’s all I heard,” Bo says, shifting in his chair, squeaking it on the flagstone pavers.
I can tell by the way he cuts his gaze from mine that he’s not telling me the entire truth. He’s trying to save my feelings, maybe. Covering for Savannah? No. My brother knows she’s a conniving manipulator. He wouldn’t take her side for anything.
“Did everyone hear about it?”
