Page 23 of Eighteen (18)

That’s not true. I have an entire Wikipedia filled with things I want to say. Things I want to scream at the world. But it’s locked up tight and I’m sure as shit not letting it out in front of Jason.

Jason walks up behind me and takes Olivia out of my arms. She coos at him too. And why not? He’s her father. She loves him.

That hurts me for some reason.

Jason grabs my chin, but it’s not in a mean way. He turns my head to make me acknowledge him. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking for evidence of his fist on my face. I looked earlier and it’s hardly even a bruise. It’s mostly yellow and will probably fade in a day or two.

I look up at Jason and find some semblance of sincerity in those blue eyes of his. I should say sorry as well. That’s what people do during an apology. But I have nothing to be sorry for, so I’m not gonna say it.

“You can stay here as long as you want, Shan. But I could use some help with Olivia.”

I nod. “Sure.”

“I got a job at night. So if you could just watch her when I go out, I’d appreciate it.”

“OK.”

He holds Olivia out to me and I take her back, pressing her close to my chest in a hug I need more than she does. “She ate about an hour ago.”

“What kind of job did you get?”

“Nothing special.” He walks off down the hall to the bedroom he shares with the baby.

Jason is a chef at a hotel near Disneyland. He works breakfast and lunch shift now, so I assume he’s picked up another shift at another restaurant. In San Diego he was a hotshot at a locally famous restaurant on the beach in La Jolla. He was probably considered well-off down there. But I’ve heard him complain enough about the daycare bill for Olivia to know that’s not the case now. Kids are fucking expensive.

When we first moved here I thought it was so he could be near his family. But then he said we were never going to see them. So that sorta sucked. It might’ve been nice to add a few real grown-ups to my life.

I take the baby back to the living room and put her back in the swing.

“Can you do laundry tonight?” Jason asks, walking out from the hallway and grabbing his keys from the small table next to the kitchen. “She’s out of t-shirts.”

“Sure,” I say, glancing down at my own soiled t-shirt.

“Be back late,” he says. He leaves through the front door and walks by through the kitchen window as he makes his way to the alley where he’s parked.

I change my clothes and put on shorts and a tank top, then start the laundry. Olivia is asleep in her swing when I come back from loading the washer, and I grab my backpack and pull out the book we were issued in English class today. I try to do all my homework in class because I’m not a homework-at-home kind of girl. But my assignment for English is reading The Good Earth, and I sorta got hooked on it in class. That teacher makes us read aloud in class. Twelfth fucking grade and we’re reading aloud. I paid no attention to what they were reading and I’m about halfway done.

But this school, you know? It’s not the best. It’s definitely near the bottom as far as performance goes. And I think that teacher knows that most of those kids will never pick up a book outside of school and this is the only way to get them to read.

I think I can finish this book tonight and have that report written tomorrow in class, so English is a non-issue for the next couple weeks.

My phone buzzes in my backpack, so I reach over and look at the message.

Unknown number: I’m at your door.

I look up at the front door, but then a knock on the slider to my right makes me jump. Mateo is standing on the back patio.

“What the fuck?”

“Let me in,” he says. I can’t hear him so much as read his lips.

“No, get out of here.” I glance over at Olivia to make sure he didn’t wake her.

“Then come outside.”

The door isn’t locked, I know that for sure. So he could come in if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. He waits.

“Shannon,” he says. “Come. Out. Side.”