“I’m sure I will.” As I stand here, letting everything sink in, one of Jaden’s earlier comments springs back into focus.
“The fuck do you mean, you dropped out of school?”
“Exactly what I said. I was speaking very clearly.”
“Jaden,” I warn.
“Fine. You’ve beaten it out of me. I hate school, Dad. I don’t want to go back. I thought it was supposed to be a party school, but there was just so much work. I didn’t sign up for boring lectures and endless homework.”
“You literally did,” Faith says. “Your father and I explained it to you several times.”
“Allegedly.”
Faith clicks her screen a few times, then lifts it to display a video of Faith and me explaining what Jaden could expect from college, just in case something like this happened, because something like this always happens when it comes to our kiddo.
“You were saying?” Faith asks.
“Ugh, fine, you win. I still don’t want to go back though.” He looks up at me through his lashes. “Can I stay with you, Dad? Please? I’ll be good.
I scratch the back of my neck and sigh. Ezzy’s going to be furious.
“Johnny, I am absolutely furious,” I say, storming into our bedroom and slamming the door behind me.
“Dang it, Ez. You know you can’t slam it like that. We live in a trailer house that’s been welded on top of a log cabin, supported by an old tree that I’m pretty sure is dead. You’ll send us crashing down to our deaths, and then where would we be, bro?”
Bro. God. Kill me.
But also… maybe fuck me first? “Bro” has no right sounding as ridiculously sexy as it does, because I’m not a fucking himbo. It suits Johnny, though. It fits his voice like a well-worn cowboy hat. His idiotic country twang that sounds more frat-bro than frack-bro. The way it makes him seem silly, even when he’s annoyed.
God help me, Johnny is precious.
“You really think the tree is dead?”
Johnny shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Do I look like a trained arborist?
“What the hell is an arborist?” I lift my hands, refusing to entertain this conversation a single second longer. “Fuck off and die, trash.”
“Jesus, Ezra,” he says, his voice coming out as a loud, ferocious bark. “You can’t go around saying shit like that. The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, please. Save the theatrics. You know I’m just being sassy.”
“That wasn’t sassy. It was just mean for meanness’ sake.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “Fine. Okay. I’m sorry. I apologize. That was uncalled for. I promise, I won’t make any more commands for you to cease living.”
He scoffs. “Not thediepart, dumbass. I know you’re just fuckin’ around when you say it. It was thetrashpart that hurt my feelings.” He’s looking everywhere except at me, and I know him well enough to know he’s trying to hide his hurt from me. Fuck that.
“Wait. You’re serious? I really hurt your feelings?” The thought of intentionally hurting him, especially after everything we shared last night, makes my heart hurt. I love goading the motherfucker, but I don’t want to bring him pain he doesn’t deserve. Maybe I did once, but not anymore. “Johnny?”
He looks at me, and it’s like the second he sees my eyes, tension slowly fades. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I thought we were just playing our little game.” I lean a little closer, my voice shrinking. “I don’t want you to fuck off, and you’re not trash. I don’t think I ever want you to fuck off. I’m really sorry for hurting you.”
He rolls his eyes, making it seem like his heart is harder than it really is. “I ain’t made of glass or anything. I’m not going to break. It just sounded mean. That’s all.”
“Well, I won’t say it again. I promise.”
His cheeks darken. “You don’t have to stop telling me to die, though.” The combination of bald and bashful holds the power to do me in, but I am not done yet. Not by a long shot.
