“For Christ’s sake, Jake, put some clothes on,” my mom scolds. “I refuse for you to see that girl after today.”
“Mom, I’m nineteen.”
“And, I still pay your bills,” she responds. “Now, get dressed, take that girl home, and come right back here.”
I don’t say anything. I stomp to the bathroom door and slam it closed. She wants to treat me like a fucking child? I’ll act one.
* * *
The driveback to Charleigh’s apartment is dead silent. No music, no banter, just the deafening sound of disappointment. I place my arm on the center consul, palm up, hoping she will take it. Hoping I haven’t completely fucked everything up.
I pull up in front of her building, and she gets out of the truck before I even have a chance to open my door. Stepping out of the truck, I move to follow her, but she whirls around on me.
“Don’t, Jake.” Rubbing her temples, she looks completely defeated. “I don’t want to talk to or see you right now.”
I watch her go. Watch her run to her building, shoulders low and shaking. Shit, I’ve made her cry. All because I couldn’t open my damn mouth against my mother. I’m not going home right now, I can’t. Instead, I text the last person I ever expected to go to make me feel better.
Jake:Are you home?
Tonya: Yeah, why?
Jake: I need to see Layla.
Tonya: Okay, come on over.
Jake: And I need some advice. I fucked up yet again.
Tonya: I’ll help as best I can.
A small partof me is scared of what she has to say about my situation. But if there’s anyone that can help me, it’s her.
Eighteen
Charleigh
The audacity of that woman.I can’t believe she actually treated me like I’m beneath her or something. I know Jake said they were assholes, but I assumed he was over-exaggerating. And Jake…he didn’t even say anything. He just quietly stood there, not once opening his mouth to defend me at all.
I’m still fuming. The only thing that has kept me occupied since I got home thirty minutes ago is pacing the floor back and forth. I tried to sit down and draw. It usually helps me deal with my emotions. But not today. Today, my rage wouldn’t let me focus on anything.
My phone dings with a message.
Jake:I’m sorry. Please, talk to me Charleigh.
Charleigh: I don’t have anything to say to you right now.
Jake: I didn’t mean for you to meet her.
Charleigh: Oh, so I’m not good enough to meet your mother.
Jake: Shit, that came out wrong. I meant she isn’t good enough to meet you.
Charleigh: I don’t know, Jake. Right now, I just need some time.
My phone starts ringing,and I’m about to toss it across the room to the sofa so I that I won’t answer it. But Corey’s name on the screen catches my attention, and I answer it.
“Hey, Corey. What’s up?” I try to inflect some sort of happiness into my voice, but it sounds too bubbly. Too fake.
“Charleigh, sorry to call you on your day off,” he pauses. “But is there any chance you can come into the shop?”