What a Boy Needs (33 page)

I hate that I'm mute. I can't open my mouth and fucking
speak
. My eyes dart to Mom as she stands by the stove, looking at me. Is she scared? Worried?
Maybe both.
I can't tell, but she's looking and not saying anything. Why am I surprised?

But then...I feel something at my side. Pris' hand on my arm and it pulls me out of my trance. "Actually, I was doing pretty well for myself before I had to come home and clean up your mess. Couldn't handle not picking on someone so you had to take it out on her when I left?"

His face pales. Hate lights his eyes. Yeah, obviously he doesn't like being called out in front of Priscilla. Well, I don't either. His jaw tenses. I can see it in his
eyes,
see him trying to calm himself so he doesn't react in front of her.

"Mom, let's go." I'm not sure where I plan to take her, but I'll get her out of here.

Each second drags out like a freaking year or something, but she's still not replying.

"Mom."

Priscilla's hand squeezes my arm. It reminds me I'm not standing here alone. Man, I didn't realize how much I need that.

"Jaden... I..." She looks at Mike, as though she needs his permission to speak.

"You what!
Let's go! He left you. You don't need him."

"You little piece of shit." Mike pushes out of the chair so hard it falls to the floor. At the same time, I go for him. Priscilla holds onto me, her nails biting into me as Mom reaches for Mike.

"Jaden, let's just go, okay? Come on. We'll get our stuff and go back to New York."

"Don't let him do this, Mom. Don't let him keeping breaking you down like this." My throat is scratchy.

"She's not going anywhere, you punk. She's mine. She belongs to me! Now you can shut your mouth and get the hell out of my house!"

"She—" I start, but Mom cuts me off.

"Jaden, it's okay. I want to be here. Everything is okay now. I'm okay. You can go."

With that I completely stop fighting Priscilla's hold. I stop moving. I might even stop breathing.

Mike jumps in, "Don't explain anything to him. He doesn't deserve to know. Coming in my home and insulting me."

I was willing to stay here for her. I flew all the way back for her. And it's still not good enough.

Without a word, I turn and walk out. Priscilla is with me.

No matter what, Mom will always love Mike more than me.

I get outside and realize I don't have a car. I got us stuck here in the middle of a burning hot day without a car.

"Jaden, I..." Pris starts.

I shake my head. "I can't. Not right now." But then I grab her hand right as the screen door slams behind us.

It's Mom.
With my stuff.

"Jaden, I'm so sorry. He came home and he apologized. It'll be okay now."

I don't even want to reply anymore. There's no use. No purpose. It won't make a difference.

"I love him, Jaden."

And there's the difference. She loves him. Not me. Not enough at least.

She hands me my bag and I take it. "We're taking the car. I'm not letting Priscilla walk. You can go get it from her house."

"Okay. I'll call you soon. Once things blow over, I'll call you."

Translation: don't call her. And
I realize, I won't
. Not anymore. I can't fix this. Never could. I flew all the way home to take care of her and it's still not enough.

“No, Mom. Don’t call. You made your choice.”

I squeeze my girl's hand. Ignoring the rock that landed on my chest, we walk away.

Chapter Nineteen

"Are you okay?" Priscilla asks as we drive away. My hands pinch tightly around the steering wheel. My eyes hurt, and my chest aches. No, I'm not okay at all. I feel like going wild, crazy, doing anything to let out all the anger and pain trapped inside me.

"No."

" That
was a stupid question. I'm sorry I asked." She reaches over and puts her hand on the back of my neck.

"I can drop you off at home, or whatever. I'll leave the car there and maybe go to Courtney's and we can figure out getting back to New York."

I think about what Mom said... What I said. I'd been willing to stay for her and hadn't even told Priscilla. That has to hurt her. The most important thing to me and I managed to hurt her again. I hate it.

"You're not getting rid of me, Jaden. We both go to Courtney's or we both go to my house."

"How is that going to work when your parents hate me?" How many people are on that list now?
The people that hate me.
Must suck to be the one with the boyfriend you can't bring home.

Priscilla sighs. "They're not home, Jay. They don't even know I'm here. Mom had called me and told me they were going out of town for a week."

"I thought..."
They had to stay home for a while.
I stop when I realize what I was about to say. Smooth move, Sinclair. Leave it to me to almost mention something else that would hurt her.

"You thought right. I know they said they couldn't do any traveling for the next couple months—that's why they aren't coming out like Aspen's parents are."

Even more anger pulses inside me. How can they not realize how freaking amazing she is? How can they not want to spend more time with her? "We're quite a pair, huh?" I pull over in front of her house. Leaning over the center console, I pull her to me. "You're worth more than that, Priscilla. You're worth everything and they're insane not to know how special you are."

Tears glint in her eyes and I wipe them away. "I love you," I tell her. More tears start to pour out of her eyes. "I'm sorry. Is now not the time to say that? Should I go back to just telling you how hot you are?"

She smiles like I hoped she would, but she's still crying when she says, "Now's the perfect time. I love you too."

We get out of the car and head into her house. It's huge. Like five of mine—my old house, I mean. There's a crystal chandelier hanging in the entry way and that's just the beginning. I've seen her house before, of course, but it's different now.

"It's so
fake
in here. Just like everything else, it's all for show."

Like always, she says the perfect thing.

"Do you want to talk about your mom?" We pass the formal living room and sit on the white couches in the family room.

"No. I don't even want to think about it right now. I just can't." Maybe I should. Maybe that makes me weak, but I can't help it. It's so much easier to process things inside than out. My brain works better than my mouth when it comes to stuff like that.

"Okay. I'm going to go take a shower then. You want to watch TV? Then we can make plans to go back to New York?"

"Can I join you, instead? That sounds like a lot more fun." I pull her to me. My hands rest on her hips and her arms come up around my neck. Her lips meet mine halfway and I kiss her. I know how her lips move now, how she likes to explore my mouth the same way I like to do to hers. When I pull away, I'm thinking there's a pretty good chance she's about to tell me no, but when I start to follow her, she puts a hand on my chest.

"Don't even think about it, big guy."

I groan as she walks away, shaking her hips more than she usually does.

"Hey!" I call to her when she gets to the stairs. Priscilla stops and looks at me. "Thanks."

She might have nixed the shower idea, but I know she's only going up there to give me time to think. Because she knows I'm much better at that then talking about it.

"Any time."

***

She's not upstairs five minutes when I hear the door rattle. The sound does the same thing to my insides. It's her parents and they're totally going to freak when they see me. I know it. Before they might have tolerated me, but after the jail thing, I know things are different.

My first instinct is to run, but I stop myself. What kind of man would I be if I ran out? If I can't even man-up to her dad?

The door creaks open, then slams.

"I can't wait to get these clothes off you," a women's voice says, all seductively.

Now, I'm really freaking out because the last thing I want is to see her parents going at it.

"I can't wait for you to do it either,
seniorita
."

The voices are getting closer and I start to look for a place to hide, hoping they'll end up upstairs.

I know I'm screwed when her dad stumbles around the corner and then a woman. Who most certa
inly isn't Priscilla’s
mom.
Holy shit.

"Oh, shit."
Pushes out of my mouth before I can stop it.
What a bastard.
How can he do this to Pris
's mom?
To Priscilla?

"What the hell are you doing in my
house!
" He jerks away from the woman, as though I don't know what would have gone down if I wasn't here.
This asshole—the one that never has time for his daughter, but expects her to be perfect.
Who only makes time for her when it will look good for him in
public.
The one who didn't even want me to come to her graduation party yet he's about to get busy with another woman in their house?

I forget about Mom.

About Mike.

About anything except for making it better for her. "I'm here with your daughter—with my girlfriend—who you're about to wreck."

His face goes pale. Dude, I swear I can see the wheels turning in his head, see him think and plot how to get his slimy ass out of this. I'm not even good enough to be her friend, yet he does this?
His eyes dart to the stairs. She's still not there. The woman next to him is smiling and I can tell she's probably loving the fact that he got caught and thinking he'll really be hers now.

He pushes his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
"How much?"

It's dumb, but his words don't register at first. "Huh?"

"You heard me. How much? What's going to keep your mouth shut about this?"

Anger erupts inside me.
Anger for Priscilla.
For her mom.
At this prick standing in front of me.
The one who everyone in town treats like a king and who makes his daughter feel like crap.
The one who thinks he can buy me off when I just told him Priscilla's my girl. "You think I'll keep your secret for you for money? Hell no. She's way more important to me than any amount of money."

The jerk has the nerve to laugh. "
You think I don’t know who you are? Sinclair, you’ve been leeching off my daughter for years.
I kept you out of trouble when you assaulted your dad.
Why not take the money and run now?”

His words make me flinch. They weasel their way into me the same way he accuses me of doing with Priscilla. They're so close to what I've heard my whole life. What I see because everyone obviously keeps walking away from me.

"She'll never know. You can take the money. You need help with college, right? I can do that. You want to disappear for a while? I can help you with that, too. Hell, keep dating her if you want, because it will not last, but do yourself a favor, kid, and keep your mouth shut. She'll end up hating you for telling her—for breaking her heart and messing up her family. Do you want that? Want to make her hate you?"

But then, some other thoughts start to push in too.
I have no doubts he could
make all those things come true, but I don't want it. "There is nothing,
nothing
I wouldn't do for Priscilla. I don't give a shit about her money. I don't want it. Don't need it. The only thing I care about is making sure she's okay, which obviously you couldn't care less about."

And that makes me someone. That makes me more than her dad sees when he looks at me. It makes me more than he is. More than a lot of people would be. It makes me a good friend.
A good boyfriend.
A good person.

"I don't want your money. She means more to me than that and she deserves to know the truth. Jesus, do you know what kind of pressure you put on her? How you make her think she has to be perfect. And all you are is a liar and a fake."

"Who has a whole hell of a lot more friends and power than you do,
kid.
"

But it doesn't matter. Do I think people would believe him over me? Yep. Do I think he could cause problems for me?
Absolutely.
Is it more important than her? Hell no.

How many times has Priscilla told me it doesn't matter what other people think? That Mike's problems or Mom's problems were theirs and not mine? The man standing in front of me is what everyone thinks they want to be—he's the kind of man I would have thought I'd want to be, but in this moment, I'd rather be like me than him.

Views are so freaking skewed—the way people see each other and the way they see themselves. Anything can change them or alter them. What you see on the outside usually isn't what you get on the inside and that's what matters.
Actions.
What you put out into the universe or whatever.