Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (27 page)

When we pull up to my house, I wipe the wetness from my face. If I’ve ever needed to be brave, now’s the time.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

- Jax -

The older man approaching me in front of my apartment building has a strange expression on his face.

“Jax Avery?” he asks as he looks down at a piece of paper.

“Who wants to know?” God, I sound like a dick. Happy fucking holidays.

“Maxwell Smith. I’m the director at the Boys & Girls club of Roxbury.” He extends his hand to me, and after eyeing him warily for a minute, I extend mine. It’s Christmas Eve, and I’ve never been in a worse mood.

“What’s up?” I have forty-five minutes before I need to get on the road. I’m meeting a few friends in New York for winter break, and after the last few weeks, I could use the distraction of getting out of Boston.

“Sir, I just wanted to thank you.” Hearing him call me sir makes this interaction even odder.

I laugh, but it lacks any conviction. “I’m sorry. What are we talking about?”

The man pats me on the shoulder. “The donation. I wanted to thank you for the donation.” What the hell drug is this dude on? “We are able to keep our doors open for the next year because of you, and your assistant expressly stated that we needed to maintain the soccer program, which we will of course. In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to do a couple of small camps with the kids. They’d be thrilled to see a real soccer star, and—”

“My assistant?” I’m seriously so lost. I scrub my face with my hand. “Honestly, this is strange.”

He chuckles. “It was very strange indeed. It’s not every day someone donates that kind of money and then turns around and waits to catch a bus.”

“Okay, back up. I’m confused.”

He grins sheepishly. “Please forgive me for tracking you down. I know the young lady said you wanted to remain anonymous, but I had to thank you in person, and your name was on the check. This money is going to help so many children who would otherwise be relegated to spending time on the streets, getting in trouble.”

“What young lady?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know what he’s going to say. Time stills as I wait for the answer that will elate and kill me in equal measure.

“Pretty girl. Red hair. She didn’t tell me her name, just stipulated that the soccer program had to be developed.”

Dani.

My heart sinks as I put the pieces of the puzzle together.

What have I done? I accused her of one of the worst forms of betrayal without ever asking her to her face, and she goes and does this? She basically signed away all of her rights in that non-disclosure agreement and then gave away the money. To a cause she knew I’d love.

Goddamn it. I’m a fucking idiot.

I don’t remember the rest of our conversation. I barely remember how I get into my apartment. When I knock on Ryan’s door an hour later, I can hear voices talking cheerfully, and the pit in my stomach grows. I know my sister is here, glued to her boyfriend Gavin, and even though I suspect the odds are slim that Dani is still around, I need to talk to her.

Jenna opens the door, her usual easy grin sliding into a forced smile.

“Merry Christmas, Jax.” She pauses and looks away as she opens the door a little wider. “Come in.”

Behind her, Ryan and Gavin sit at a card table as Clem stalks toward me.

I guess by the expression on my face she knows why I’m here because she points her finger at me and says, “You’re too late, Einstein. She already left for Chicago.” Clem shakes her head. “And she’s probably not coming back.”

“What? Why?”

“Her mother is dying.” Clem looks at me like I’m an ass. “She has family obligations and some pretty heavy shit on her shoulders, not to mention you jerked her around like she was trash. But, yeah, she packed all of her stuff before she left. Jenna is waiting to hear what things are like back home before she calls UPS.”

Dani is leaving. Possibly for good. Fuck.

The friendly banter that floated from this room when I got here is replaced with a thick, suffocating silence.

“If it’s any consolation,” Clem says, her eyes narrowing, “I think you were the icing on the cake. Jesus, Jax, this girl has enough going on. Did you really have to fuck with her?”

Ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere, I ask, “She told you I’m the reason she’s not returning to school?”

“She didn’t have to. She avoided coming home for two weeks. She stayed with Travis the whole time because she was embarrassed about what happened between you two. Thanks for fucking up my roommate, by the way. Couldn’t you have picked one of your slutty dates to entertain you that weekend? Did you have to screw with Dani? She’s a nice girl.”

That’s what I can’t explain—that I tried to stay away from her, and the longer I tried, the closer we got as friends and the more I liked her.

“You don’t know the whole story, Clementine,” I tell her gruffly.

Clem’s eyebrow tilts up. “Enlighten me.”

“She lied to me. She knew me this whole time, since my birthday, and—”

“And she didn’t fall and worship at your feet after you left her high and dry at the club without saying goodbye?”

Well, when Clem says it like that…

My sister pins me with a glare. “Did you realize there’s a photo of you online the night of your birthday leaving Cages with that model?”

Shit.

Clem doesn’t wait for me to respond. “The same girl who, coincidentally, stuck her tongue down your throat at Ryan’s? You really expected Dani to interrupt that when you couldn’t remember her name because you had a goddamn concussion?”

Okay, I guess Dani told her more than I thought. But there’s one thing I’m sure she didn’t disclose that convoluted everything.

Her arm waves in front of me, cutting me off. “Don’t even start about the money.”

I still, my body going rigid. “You’ve known?” I feel the pulse in my temple. “For how long?” Now I’m pissed. My own goddamn sister knew Dani didn’t keep that check, and she didn’t tell me.

“Since the day after Daren’s banquet. She told me everything and apologized.” Clem shakes her head. “Aside from what I’m guessing was the pure humiliation of hooking up with some guy who didn’t remember her, she was afraid I’d judge her or be pissed that you two got together.” Her lips tighten. “That’s my fault because I don’t have anything nice to say about the typical women you date, but I certainly don’t include her in that group. So I assured her my cautionary words about you had everything to do with you being a slut and not about me thinking she wasn’t good enough for my brother, dim-witted though he may be.”

Emotions churn in my stomach like grinding gears. “So you knew that she donated thirty grand to the Boys & Girls Club?”

“Yup.” Clem’s nonchalance has me one step away from strangling her.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if you really thought she was into you for the money, then you don’t know her, and you certainly don’t deserve her.” Just in case I’m not listening, Clem pokes me in the chest. “Let me be clear. You haven’t convinced me otherwise.”

I run my hands through my hair, exasperated. “I jumped to conclusions. I admit that. But I’ve been burned by a girl like this before, and it just cut too close to home.” Giselle decimated me with one lie, and then she took the money and ran. “Clem, I think you understand what that feels like.”

For years after her breakup with Daren, my sister was a mess. Didn’t date anyone until she met Gavin earlier this semester. My eyes slide to him, and he stares back, his expression telling me I need to chill out.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to back off the ledge.

Clem’s shoulders relax marginally, and she’s quiet a long minute. Finally, she nods.

“I’m listening.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

- Dani -

The white house sits nestled in a blanket of snow, but the walkway is clear. Never in my life have those steps been harder to make. I thank Susan for the ride and force myself forward, my eyes trained on the slight figure sitting on the couch in front of the large front window.

“Mom?” I call out in the entryway after letting myself in.

“In here,” a weak voice says.

After I close the door behind me, I pause. The air is cold, not quite as frigid as outside, but cold enough that I can see my breath. It should smell like cinnamon and sage, my mother’s favorite spices. Instead, antiseptic and bleach scent the air.

I drop the handle to my luggage, turn up the thermostat in the hallway, and head toward the living room where I stare at the person in front of me, not quite recognizing my mother.

“Hi, darling.” She waves me closer.

She’s a rail. Thin and pale. Like she hasn’t left the house or eaten properly in months. She’s swimming in a bright red sweater that features Rudolph, whose nose blinks on and off like a broken stop light.

“Like it?” She points down at her chest, and I try to ignore her bony fingers.

“Yeah.” I have to clear my throat. “It’s great, Mom.” I sit next to her and wrap my arms around her narrow shoulders. Tears sting my eyes and the back of my throat as she pats my shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo. I’ve missed you.” She kisses the top of my head, and I almost lose it.

I will not break down. I will not break down.

Biting my cheek until it hurts, I focus on that pain instead of my dying parent. When we break apart, the look of love in her eyes threatens to shatter me. Where will I ever find that kind of love again? Once my mother is gone, I’ll be alone.

“None of that!” she chides. “No crying before Christmas. That’s some kind of sacrilege. Susan left a few meals in the fridge for us. Why don’t you pick one out and pop it in the oven for dinner.”

I bring the food to her when it’s ready so she doesn’t have to expend the energy to get up. She smiles, tipping her fork toward me. “I love your red hair. It’s beautiful. It’s bold. It’s perfect.”

In the blur of coming home, I had forgotten she hadn’t seen it.

I return the smile and push the food around on my plate.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “I’m considering getting a small apartment in Boston. What do you think?”

Staring into my bowl of noodles like I might be able to find the right words somewhere in the Alfredo sauce, I nod and force another smile.

“Sounds great, Mom.” The lie slips off my tongue. But I’ll play along through Christmas. Maybe even through the New Year. After that, I won’t be able to hide my plans to come home.

She talks animatedly while I eat the casserole, but I know what she’s doing—pretending this isn’t as bad as it is—but it’s hard to ignore how she picks at her food and clenches her jaw like she’s trying not to throw up.

Our discussion about Boston reminds me of how I’d always ask for a pony when I was a kid, and she would describe where we’d go to buy one and the stall where we’d keep him, the kind of apples he’d like and the little sounds he’d make when we’d pet him. We could talk about my horse for hours even though I knew we could never afford one. The talk was what mattered, the possibility, the hope. I see the same look in her eyes now. She just wants hope. A reason to live.

After I put our dishes away and settle back on the couch with two mugs of hot chocolate, my mom reaches for a manila folder and hands it to me. I open it and stare, not sure what I’m looking at.

“Those are all of my accounts. Our accounts. I had your name put on everything—the deed to the house, my bank account, my IRAs. Oh, and that stock you suggested has performed really well this month. I’m glad that school is teaching you something.” She reaches for my hand, her cold skin a reminder of what’s to come. “I left you off my credit cards, though.” She chuckles. “I figured you could do without those balances.”

“We don’t have to do this right now.” The numbness inside me grows, like roots pushing up through a sidewalk.

“Yes, honey, we do.” Her eyes, deep pools of green with flecks of amber, look dim.

Her words ricochet inside of me until I can barely breathe. I curl up, dropping my head into her lap and cry, for all the time we won’t spend together, the memories we won’t have, the laughter we can’t share. She strokes my hair softly, her gentle touch making me sob harder. She’s dying, her last breaths are numbered, and I’m the one crying. I’m suddenly furious that I let myself get distracted all semester by some guy when my mom’s been here dealing with this by herself.

When the tears stop and all I can do is whimper into her flannel pajama bottoms, I sit up.

She clears her throat and whispers, “Do you have friends you can go to… afterward? I need to know you’re not alone.”

“I have Travis.” I wipe my face with sleeve of my sweater. “I had some pretty great roommates this semester too.”

“Anyone else?” she asks hopefully. “A boy?”