Page 62 of Best Man on Campus

“I can see that, Mr. Obvious. Everything okay with her?”

“Everything’s fine.” I lie my ass off because this isn’t the time or place. Besides, what am I going to tell her? We were never really dating, just hooking up here and there and now she’s done? Because it feels a hell of a lot like that’s exactly what’s going on and it feels like fucking shit. I take a deep breath. “What about you? How’s Dad?” I expect the usual answer, that he’s busy, but that’s not what Mom says this time.

“Not well.”

I do a double take. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. As usual, he doesn’t talk much to me. But there’s something.” She smiles and hugs me again. “But don’t you worry, I’ll get to the bottom of it. You can rely on me.”

“Fuck, Mom. You can’t tell me there’s something wrong with Dad and then tell me not to worry—”

“Shhh. I’ll take care of it. I’ll let you know when I get the details.”

“Is he having an affair?” I whisper the words and she laughs. Relief swamps me when it shouldn’t because there are worse things. Like he could be sick.

But he’s a fucking doctor and knows how to take care of himself or get help, so I’m not going to worry. Especially since he’s not talking about whatever the fuck it is that’s going on.

“You’re so funny,” she says. “Nothing like that. Nothing that can’t be dealt with. I’m sure of it.”

“I gotta hit the showers.”

“You go ahead. And tell Jazzy I said hello. I like that girl. She’s good for you.” Mom leaves and my heart races at her words because they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jazzy good for me?

She’s more like kryptonite, likely to break me in two and ruin my heart. Ruin me for what I can’t have, the girl, the kind of love that’s just out of reach.

* * *

Exhaustion rescues me from the rest of the night, letting me sleep past the morbid speculation about what to do about med school, Dad’s fucking mystery problem, Jazzy avoiding me and whether I’m crazy to go on a wild goose chase to find her truth, to try and save her from her demons when I don’t know if I can have her either way.

My head is clear the next morning. It’s empty of all the spiraling concerns and all that’s left is the bleak decision to go forward with finding the truth because I know it’s right even if it’s hard.

At seven a.m., I’m dressed with my backpack slung over my shoulder filled with water and protein bars. My cell phone is fully charged and I feel like a boy scout going on a trip to earn a badge, but I knock on Kace’s door anyway.

He opens it right away, ready to go.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave without me,” he says as we trot down the stairs. There’s a few guys in the dining room and Majik is in the kitchen making up breakfast to order and boxed lunches. I head straight for the back door, hoping to avoid a conversation with her, but Kace goes straight for her.

“Hey Majik, we’re going on a road trip. What do you have for boxed lunches today?”

Shit. He’s asking for trouble.

Or he would be if Majik was the kind of person to ask questions. She’s not. She mostly minds her business, except for her matchmaking between me and Jazzy, or when one of us begs her for advice. Even then she’s reluctant.

“We have the usual. Tuna salad or chicken salad. I can wrap them in foil and put them in cold bags if you promise to bring the bags back. If you don’t, I kick your butt. What’ll it be?” She takes a sip of coffee and Kace looks at me. She turns and sees me. She doesn’t return my smile.

“Good morning, Majik. I’ll take the chicken salad. And if you have any cookies—”

“You know I do.” Still no smile. I don’t know why I’m looking for the impossible. Habit, I guess.

Kace says, “Make that two.”

Stone comes down stairs, his eye puffed out and bruised around the bandage.

“How are the stitches holding up?” I ask. Foolishly.

“Great. No thanks to you.”

Fuck. Kace raises his brows. “Didn’t Dr. Hockey stitch you up?”