“I don’t have anything nice to say.” I scanned my phone, reading some quick tips. If we were gonna wait it out here, we should put towels near the cracks in the doors. Warmest part of the house would be either my room or the hall closet. Probably not that. “We can stay in my room tonight.”
“Oh, that’s presumptuous.”
“Jordan,” I scolded, finally meeting her gaze. “I don’t know what happened or why you’re behaving like this, but I’m over it. Pout, be dramatic, what the fuck ever, but you scared the shit out of the three of us today, and you’re acting like we’re the burden. I get you have a huge event that matters for your grade, but damn. There’s a line between being stubborn and stupid, and you’re crossing it.”
She blinked, her lips parting as a blush crept up her cheeks. Her eyes widened in panic as she took a step back. Then another.
“You’re not running out of this house. I will chase you and fucking tie you to my bed if you try.” I pointed a finger. “People argue sometimes, and yeah, that feeling in your chest right now? It sucks. But I care enough about you prevent you from hurting yourself.”
“You won’t… tie me down?” She gripped the back of the couch as she glanced at the front door.”
“Try me. I dare you.” My skin felt too tight, and my mind buzzed like we were in the middle of a shoot-out in a game. The same adrenaline coursed through me, ready for her to make a move, and I’d react. This was all defense.
Her nostrils flared as she bolted for the front hallway. I caught up to her in three seconds, wrapping an arm around her waist and picking her up. “No. You’re not leaving.”
“Put me down, asshole!” She kicked and tried punching me, but I was stronger and faster. Plus, I took more hits during a game. This was nothing. She wiggled, twisting her weight to try to escape, but I held on tighter.
Adrenaline surged with the thrill of the fight. It was similar to being on the ice. I went up the stairs, pushed my door open, and tossed her onto my bed. “Don’t make me tie you.”
“You’re such a dick,” she said, her chest heaving. Her black hair was everywhere, her eyes large and staring daggers at me. “Fuck, Preston, you’re an ass.”
“Am I? Am I being an ass for trying to keep you safe? It seems I’m the only one out of the two of us who gives a shit about you.” I pulled on my hair and sighed. Why did I keep doing this?
Would I do this forever? Take care of her and be there for her, fighting with her every step of the way when it wasn’t reciprocated? My jaw hurt as the anger left me. “You know what, go. Be careless. I’m done.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I left her in my room and went back downstairs. Snow already started coming down in sheets of ice when someone banged on the door.
What?
Maybe it was one of Jordan’s friends for her project. Unless she called some guy? My stomach bottomed out at the large shadow in the window. I wouldn’t put it past her to retaliate against me. Fuck. I had to get over this with her because the emotional turmoil was gonna make me lose it. I opened the door, ready to tell whoever to get home, but my brother stared back at me.
“What up, baby bro? I’m crashing here!”
13
JORDAN
Preston’s bed smelled like him. It comforted me the same way a bear hug did from him or the way he laughed with me, not at me. My eyes prickled as tears welled, my emotions getting the best of me. White-hot shame had those tears spilling out.
Preston was right. Why was I being like this?
Oh. My dear old mother, that was why. She sent me an email. She didn’t call or text, no, that would be too much.
Jordan,
I’ve decided to sell the house, effective immediately. I have already gone through and taken what matters to me. As for the rest, I suggest you come and collect your items before the New Year. Anything left behind will be thrown out. It’s time to move on, don’t you think? You’re an adult now, and I assume you understand that sentimentality doesn’t pay bills.
Frankly, I’m surprised you even want any of that junk. You were never the easiest child to raise, always so dramatic about everything. It’s no wonder you struggle to settle down. Maybe this will teach you to let go of the past and stop holding on to things—or people—who don’t serve you.
Best regards,
Mother
P.S. Your internship coordinator tells me you’re not doing well. You know the deal: if you get below a C, I stop any financial help. She’ll send me your grade next spring.
She hit me with the usual two-punch attack. I wasn’t easy to raise, and I was dramatic. Then the kicker of picking apart my grade. College was supposed to be my escape, with no ties to my mom, yet she kept communicating. Rage bubbled under my skin and weaved its way into my mind, cloaking every thought and feeling.
I couldn’t fail events class. Not just because my mom threatened me financially but because I knew I could do it. I was great at chaos and making split-second decisions. I enjoyed the thrill of events and problem-solving. The reason I had a C was because I’d been sick for a midterm and hadn’t done well on a test.
