“You’re floundering,” Andre says.
“I am not.”
“You work out twice a day, nap, and watch whatever sport is on TV.Whatever is on.I intentionally changed it to a replay of the 2000 ping-pong championship the other day, and you watched it. Forthreehours.”
“Have you ever watched ping-pong?” I ask. “It’s impressive. Their hands move so fast. And the feet! I never realized how important footwork is to their game!”
“It is impressive—” Annie starts before being cut off by Andre.
“Annie! No. We are here for one thing and one thing only.”
“To convince me to go into my studio and write a song?” I ask wearily.
“No. We gave up on that a month ago. We want you to go home. To Wild Bluffs.”
“No.”
“Jax, your dad died six weeks ago,” Annie says.
“No.”
“You didn’t go to his funeral,” Andre says, not bothering to hold back his judgmental tone.
“I don’t do funerals. You know that. I just—I just fucking can’t, and you know why. And I haven’t talked to my dad since he told me I was the reason my mom died and that I should get out,” I snap, shoving past them into the living room. “I wasn’t even eighteen.”
I’ve talked to my therapist about this a lot, and I’m working on accepting what was said in the heat of a very intense fight,but it turns out, I’m not there yet. Especially since it wasn’t just a one-time incident—my dad had resented me my whole life. I’d assumed it was because he was stuck raising a rebellious boy all on his own when my mom passed, but turns out, it’s because he blamed me—or at least my birth—for my mom’s death.
“Jaxon—” Annie starts.
“I’m going to shower,” I say, striding away. “You’re not invited.”
“You can’t just bail mid-intervention,” Andre says, trailing behind me. Though, to be clear, not like a puppy trailing his master. Like a jaguar, stalking the prey it knows is injured.
“Oh, I can, and I will,” I say, increasing my pace.
So close to safety.
“I have no qualms about following you into your bathroom.”
We’ve lost Annie somewhere along the walk to my room, and now it’s just the two of us.
“I can’t go to Wild Bluffs,” I say. “I don’t want to. Why would I?”
“We got a call this morning,” Andre starts, his tone telling me I’m not going to like what he has to say. “You’re the sole beneficiary of his will.”
I scoff. “No way. Dad would never leave his pride and joy to me.”
“Well, that’s what the lawyers said when they called. You’re now the proud owner of Reid Farms in Wild Bluffs, Colorado.”
“Tell them to sell it.”
“And what about the house?” Andre asks. He’s not taking any notes on his phone, which is a good indication he’s not going to do any of the things I’m telling him to.
“Sell it,” I say.
Andre leans his hip against my bathroom counter. “And all your father’s possessions?”
“Give them away.”
