Believe in Us (Jett #2) (11 page)

My parents spend ten minutes arguing over whether or not I should go to a clinic for my busted up face. Dad says I’ll be fine, that it’s no worse than the dozens of dirt bike injuries I get every year. Mom says the busted eye might leave permanent scarring, that I might have a broken eye socket or worse.

Dad rolls his eyes. We’re all in the kitchen, sitting around the island in the middle of the room. Well, I’m sitting. Mom’s behind me, her hands on my shoulders while she argues with Dad and tilts my chin up to look at me every few seconds. Dad sits on a barstool on the other side of the island. He’s working on his laptop and talking to us at the same time since he had to come home early from work when the school called my parents to tell them what happened.

“He could have a concussion!” Mom says.

“He didn’t hit me that hard,” I say. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” she says, shifting so she’s not directly behind me. I have to turn my head to see her hand with my other eye. “Three.”

“Ugh, you can’t even see out of your left eye,” she says, resting her hand on my cheek. I wince at the pain, but try to hide it. Because she’s my mom, she doesn’t miss it.

“Honey, you’re in pain.”

“Of course I am, I got punched in the face repeatedly,” I say with a sigh. I turn and step off the barstool. I’m taller than Mom when I’m standing in front of her. “I’m fine, Mom, really. I promise. I’d rather go be with Keanna right now.”

“Not until we have a talk,” Dad says, his tone serious. He points to where I was sitting moments ago and I take a set again. Lines form in Dad’s forehead while he stares at me. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

I heave a sigh. “I walked around the hallway, saw a guy pressing Keanna to the wall, so I ran up and grabbed him and punched him. Then I realized he wasn’t just pestering her but he was choking her. So I beat his ass until a teacher made me stop.”

“He was
choking
her?” Mom says in a high pitched voice. She sits straighter, and twists her ring around her finger. “Jace,” she says, staring at my dad like she expects him to do something.

Dad leans forward, his brow furrowed. “So you mean this guy was just attacking Keanna? You two weren’t fighting over her or something?”

“What?” I practically choke on my own spit. “Are you kidding me? Why would I be fighting over my own girlfriend?” Anger and something a lot like amusement courses through me, mixing together until I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or if this is all hilarious. “Dad, what the hell do you think I was doing?”

He glances at Mom and they exchange a look. “I guess we thought you might have been up to your old antics,” he says, pressing his palms to the table. “I was afraid you were fighting for the wrong reason.”

“Oh my god.” It’s definitely anger now. Anger flows through my veins, warming my muscles and making my heart ache. “Dad, I love Keanna! Some asshole attacked her and it was all because of me, probably, but none of this was her fault. I’m not the person I used to be. You have to believe that.”

My parents do that stupid look thing again, like they’re talking to each other by gaze alone. It’s infuriating. Mom puts a hand on my arm. “How are your ex-girlfriends handling the fact that you have a new girlfriend?”

“I don’t have ex-girlfriends,” I say before I realize to keep my mouth shut. Way to go, Jett. You just admitted you’re a man slut to your mother.

Mom sighs. “You know what I mean. How are they handling it?”

“Not well.” I heave another sigh. “That’s why Keanna got attacked. Some bitch in her first period class is friends with a girl who liked me last year but I didn’t like her back. Apparently this girl has been berating Keanna all week and finally when Keanna stood up for herself, the girl had her brother come dish out a beating.”

Dad’s fist slams into the table. “This is not acceptable. We can’t let this shit happen, Bay.”

Mom shrugs. “That Aubrey girl is suspended and they said the brother was taken to jail. There’s not really much we can do.”

Dad’s jaw flexes. “Keanna is our responsibility, too, Bay. Our son’s dumbass past is going to hurt her.” He casts a quick glance at me and I’ve never felt so fucking low in my life.

Dad’s face falls, and he stares off into the distance. “Keanna is my best friend’s daughter now, Jett. If you’re going to date her, you can’t treat her like the others.”

“Dad, what makes you think I would?” I say, desperation filling my voice. “I love her, okay? I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Seems like something already has,” Mom says, her words hitting straight to the bone.

I open my mouth to argue, but I know there’s no point. I am a shitty person. I dated around too much, had too much fun, and now I’m learning that it wasn’t fun at all. Those girls meant nothing to me. I only thought I was enjoying my dating around days because that was before I knew what real love is. And now Keanna has been choked, ridiculed, and hassled because of me. Because of my past.

My lip quivers and Mom throws an arm around my shoulder. “Honey, we’re not trying to be hard on you right now. We care about you.”

“That’s true,” Dad says. “But we care about Keanna, too. She’s not some bimbo girl you bring around for a week and then we never see again. She’s a sweet kid and she’s here for good. She’s the daughter of my business partner and our neighbor. You can’t treat her the way you’ve treated others.”

“I won’t.” It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.

“Does Keanna know this?” Mom asks. My mom’s embrace has always felt comforting, even as I’ve grown up and gotten too old for that kind of thing. But now, I don’t deserve her loving embrace. I’m a shitty son and a bad person and I have embarrassed both of my parents.

“Keanna knows,” I say. I bite my bottom lip and stare at the dark patterns in the granite countertop. “Well, I’ll make sure she really knows.” I look up and meet my parents with a look of confidence. I need them to believe me. “I know I’ve been a shit person in the past, but I’m not that same person anymore.”

“Honey, you were never a shit person,” Mom says, emphasizing the last two words. “You’re just a free spirit, much like your dad was before he met me.”

“Maybe Keanna is your Bayleigh,” Dad says.

I make a gagging sound. “Okay gross.”

They laugh. “You know what I mean,” Dad says. “I was just like you until I met your mom and settled down. I had it easier because I left my past behind in California.”

I look at Mom. “Were you able to forgive Dad for dating around so much?”

She shrugs. “There’s nothing to forgive. That all happened before he met me.” She flashes him a devilish grin that grosses me out. “He’s been mine ever since.”

“I hope Keanna feels that way,” I say, looking down at my hands. Having this talk with my parents should be awkward as hell but I find it reassuring. It’s nice to have parents I can go to, talk to, and not feel judged.

“I’m glad I have you guys,” I say softly while I stare at my hands.

Dad stands and grabs a beer out of the fridge. “This will be okay, son. It’ll work out if you just be genuine with her. But we need to make sure nothing like this happens again. Keanna doesn’t need to be in danger.”

“I agree,” Mom says. “Our first priority is making sure Keanna is safe and that she knows you won’t mess around on her. God knows what that Aubrey girl put in her head.”

I groan but it almost sounds like a growl. “I need to talk to Keanna,” I say.

My parents nod. “Go,” Dad says, twisting open the cap on his beer. “I can’t believe my son got suspended for a
week
and I’m not grounding him.”

Mom chuckles and puts a hand to her stomach. It’s still flat, but she does that a lot lately. I guess she’s more aware of there being a baby inside than we are. “Have fun,” Mom says, waving me away. “Go tell your girl everything will be fine.”

Jett has been treating me like a porcelain doll for the last two days. Like he’s afraid if he even looks at me wrong, I’ll break into a million pieces. I appreciate the fact that he cares, but he’s the one person I want to treat me normally. I’m fine with Becca fawning over me and rushing me to the doctor to check out my bruised neck. I’m fine with Park, who gave me a talk Friday night about how he’ll kick any guy’s ass who tries to hurt me again. In fact, it made me feel awesome and loved that my new parents care so much. But with Jett, my rock, my boyfriend—I just want him to be normal.

We’ve spent the last forty-eight hours watching Netflix, cuddled in my bedroom. Pretty much the only time I’ve left my room was last night when Becca and I made cupcakes and Jett watched us, knowing he couldn’t exactly help because he sucks at baking. He had decorated some of the cupcakes though, claiming that he was the Sprinkle Master. Last night was fun, but now that it’s Sunday, and the fear of going to school tomorrow has fully manifested, Jett is treating me with epically huge kid gloves.

“Can I get you more water?” he asks, gesturing to the empty bottle on my nightstand.

We’ve piled up all of my pillows to give my headboard some cushion and we’re sitting on top of the comforter, Jett’s arm around my shoulders, and my head resting on his chest. We’re on the final season of Bob’s Burgers on Netflix. Jett is only letting us watch happy, upbeat stuff.

I sit up and turn to look at him. “Jett, I’m stronger than you think I am.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer my water question.”

The corners of my lips twist into a grin. “I don’t need water, but I
do
need you to stop treating me like I’m breakable.”

He frowns, and lifts his hand to my cheek. “You are breakable, baby.” I catch his eyes flick to my neck, where I know the bruises remain, though they’ve faded some.

The swelling in his eye has gone down, but it’s still purple and red. I shake my head and grab onto his wrist while he holds my face. “I’m fine. I’ve been through a lot. As long as someone doesn’t put a bullet in my head, I’m gonna be fine.”

His expression hardens. “Don’t talk like that. God, I can’t even
think
of that—” He looks away, his chest heaving. “If
anyone
hurts you, or tries to hurt you, or even looks at you wrong—I’ll destroy them.”

“Apparently they suspended Aubrey, right?” I shrug. “It’s fine. I don’t have any other enemies, just a bunch of jealous girls giving me dirty looks.” Then, because Jett’s expression is so painfully angry, I smack my fist into my palm, pretending to be tough. “I’m not worried about those girls,” I say, grinning.

He smiles, but it’s a sad expression. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, so slowly that his lips linger on my skin for a few seconds. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been such a fucking player all my life—” He heaves a sigh and then shakes his head, his hand tightening on my cheek. “My dumbass past has hurt you and I’m so
so
sorry, Keanna.”

I feel his eyelashes flutter closed on my temple. I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his body.

“Don’t blame yourself for some jealous psychopath,” I whisper.

He seems like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stretches back and lies down on my bed while I snuggle up into his arms. I wrap an arm over his stomach and his chin rests on top of my head.

“I’m scared to go to school tomorrow,” I whisper against his chest. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and lavender, a clean scent I’m beginning to think of as home.

“You could skip it,” he says, stroking his fingers through my hair.

“Nah, I’ll be okay. It’ll just suck without you.”

He snorts. “Tell me about it. D’andre and Maya said you’re still welcome to sit with them at lunch.”

I let out a long breath, closing my eyes while I relish in the feel of his fingers running through my hair. “Cool.”

We go back to watching the TV. Becca pokes her head in the door and tells me she and Park are heading to the grocery store. As soon as their car pulls out of the driveway, I watch it through my window while it disappears down the lonely county road. The current episode on TV ends and the credits roll. I lean up on my elbow and look into Jett’s eyes.

“Hey there,” he says, peering down at me.

“Hi,” I say. My eyes narrow seductively and I move until I’m on top of him. His hands slide down to my hips and I lean forward, kissing his neck, trailing my lips up to his ear. He sighs and his hands dig into me, holding me steady while I roam my hands down his chest and just to the edge of his jeans. When my lips meet his, he parts his mouth and runs his tongue along mine, sending a shiver of delight down my spine. He tastes like Dr. Pepper and slide my hand up his chest while we make out, letting my body mold to his and move with him while our hands and mouths explore.

I keep to the right side of his face since the left side is all bruised and I notice Jett makes no move to kiss my neck like he usually does. As much as I want him, we can’t exactly make out like normal right now.

I kiss him hard on the mouth, and feel his excitement pressing into my belly. I look up at him and get an idea—risky but sexy—and I decide to act on it before I chicken out.

I lean forward and lick my tongue up his neck. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, his hands pulling my hips into him.

I push up on my elbows and swing my leg around him, until I’m straddling him. I lower myself down to his stomach and kiss the skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. His tanned stomach has a sharp white tan line just beneath the elastic of his boxers and I push it down with my tongue.

I slide my hands down to his zipper. He freezes. “Key,” he says, breathless. His hand covers mine. “Don’t. You don’t—have to do that.”

“I want to,” I say, trying again to undo his pants.

He shakes his head and sits up. His arms slide around my waist and he pulls me back up to him, holding me snugly around my back so I can’t move back down. “We don’t need to do that,” he says, avoiding my gaze. If anything, his thoughts seem far away.

My lip pouts. “Why not? I thought it would be fun.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t—that’s just—it’s too soon, okay?”

Alarms go off in my head. It definitely seems like he’s lying to me. But why? And do I really want to know why my boyfriend is denying the one thing that guys love more than anything?

I mask my disappointment and worry and roll over to my side, taking the remote control and turning up the volume. “Okay,” I say, trying to focus on the television and not my shattered ego. “Whatever you want.”