“I’m fine, really. Look, I have to go. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
Mom’s quiet for a moment. “Está bien. Te amo, Yasmin.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
I manage to hold the sob until the line’s disconnected. Then I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together.
“Yasmin?” a soft voice calls out.
I look up and find a flaming redhead in front of me. “Are you okay?”
“Alyssa.”
She looks at me worriedly, and then over my shoulder, making me realize I’m still standing in front of the coach’s house.
What is she doing here? Does she know who the house belongs to? Did she see me getting out? Did she see me with him?
“C’mon.” Alyssa wraps her arm around me, pulling me closer. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“How are you feeling?” Alyssa asks as she sits on the couch opposite me. As soon as she does, a small dog, a terrier of some kind, jumps into her lap. After making three turns, he sits down, making happy noises as he snuggles tight.
I didn’t peg Alyssa for a dog person, but then again, apart from seeing her a few times and our night out together, I don’t know much about her.
Taking a sip of my hot chocolate, I lower it down to my lap. “Better, thank you.” I offer her a small, slightly strained smile. “I’m sorry, I’m usually not such a mess, but today has been…”
I leave the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, unsure of how to explain it without revealing too much about the reason behind my tears.
She waves her hand. “That’s fine, I’m just glad that you’re okay. I was worried something happened to you.”
Looking down, I trace the rim of my cup with the tip of my finger. “A lot has been going on lately, and I think it all finally caught up to me.”
“Sometimes a girl’s just gotta cry.”
Alyssa doesn’t seem like a girl who cries, but then again, neither do I. Early on I learned that tears will lead me nowhere, so I considered them useless. But it seems like all I do is cry lately.
When I look up, I find Alyssa observing me quietly. I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing stare.
Why is she looking at me like that?
“Was there a special reason why you were standing in front of Coach Davies’s house?”
I inhale sharply, thrown off guard by her question. Although I don’t know why, since it took her less than five minutes to lead me away from his house and into hers. So much for thinking nobody would see me come and go from the coach’s place; I was fooling myself into thinking I was safe, that my secret was safe. It was only a matter of time.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s not play dumb.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her tea. Carefully, she puts the cup on the glass coffee table before once again giving me her undivided attention.
This was such a bad idea. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have come. When I saw her, I should have run in the other direction as far and as fast as I could.
She either doesn’t notice the panic rising within me or she chooses to ignore it, because she continues, “That night at the club? I thought I knew you from somewhere, I just couldn’t remember where. I thought I must have seen you with Callie at Maddox’s at some point, but then I saw you again one night when I was walking Coco. Leaving Coach’s house, just like today.”
Think, Yasmin. Think.
“Is there a question somewhere in there?” I ask, trying to sound aloof. I’m not sure what she’s implying, what she knows or thinks that she knows, but I’m not about to spill everything.
“Are you in trouble?”
“What?!”
Is she asking what I think she’s asking?
“Are you in trouble?” she repeats, this time slower. “Given how I found you just now, it’s a logical question to ask.”
“No, I—” I shake my head. “No.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and it’s none of my business, but if he hurt you in some way—”
He hurt me, all right, just not how she thinks.
“No, he didn’t hurt me.”
Alyssa continues like she didn’t hear me. “Because if he did, you don’t have to stand for it. We can go to the police—”
Police?
“Alyssa, I’m fine, really…”
She stops suddenly, falling more into the cushion. “Oh… Well, if you say so.” She sounds almost disappointed.
“But thank you, for offering.” Her reaction wasn’t anything like what I expected. You’d think people would assume the worst, like Nixon did, but she didn’t seem to care one bit about why I was there, as much as she did about the reason I was upset.
She smiles at me. “We girls gotta stick together.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
NIXON
“Jade?” I call out as soon as I enter the house. Putting the pizza box on the table next to the front door, I take off my jacket while at the same time toeing off my shoes.
“In the kitchen.”
In the past week, Jade’s been slowly coming out of it. She’s still been sad a lot, breaking down every time something reminds her of Mom, but she hasn’t been shut up in her bedroom all the time, so I’m calling it a win.
Picking up the box, I go down to the kitchen. “I grabbed your favor—” The words die on my lips as I see the man sitting at the kitchen table across from Jade. “What are you doing here?”
“This is still my house,” Dad says, leaning back in his chair.
“It stopped being your house the moment you packed your shit and left!”
“Nixon!” Jade yells, glaring at me.
“Go to your room, Jade,” I say, not leaving her space to argue. I don’t want her here to see what’s about to go down.
Tears fill her eyes at my harsh tone. “He’s our dad.”
I feel guilty for making her cry, but I can’t worry about that just now.
“Your room, Jade. Now.”
She glares at me, but does as I say. Her feet stomp against the stairs as she climbs to her room, followed by the door shutting loudly behind her. God, I just hope she doesn’t do something stupid.
“You have no right.”
“She’s my daughter, and this is my house.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Mom’s attorney called the other day, notifying us about the reading of her will. We were both supposed to be present, along with our father, apparently, so I asked him to give us a little bit more time. I was afraid that forcing Jade into this situation would trigger her once again, and all the progress we made recently will be for nothing.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to see my kids.”
“Try again. Make it believable this time.”
His lips press in a tight line. “What is your problem?”
“You.” I stab my finger into his chest. “You’re my problem. So tell me, why are you here now? After all this time?”