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I arrive at Chuckles and let myself in. “Dad?” I call out. “You in there?”
The minute I step through the office door, I’m confronted by the smell of booze. The desk holds an empty tumbler and a half-full bottle of bourbon. My father’s head rests on the desk, and he snorts in his sleep.
One hour and this is what happens. One fucking hour.
I can’t step out for a minute without the entire family collapsing to shit. The Taylor family is split apart, shattered like glass, and I’m the asshole trying to glue the pieces back together without getting my fingers cut.
This is exactly why I can’t get involved with anyone. If I fall apart, our family will have no one left.
I grab the bottle and tip the bourbon down the drain in the men’s bathroom. I can’t let Seth get to my father. I’m going to have to talk to Jesse and Hannah about this. Maybe even call Lily and Leo. Talk to Ganny.
This problem isn’t going away, and I’m not sure even Chuckles Bar is going to save my father before it’s too late.
Eighteen
JUNE
“Dinner’s almost ready!”
The blaring rock music from Alex’s room drowns me out, but I smile to myself. Alex is excited about the talent show, and about making a new friend, and I’m not going to tell her to shut her music off. Besides, I doubt Cash will mind. He was exactly the same at her age, except he was playing country and picking on his father’s old guitar.
I gnaw on my bottom lip. I’ve put the two sunflowers in a vase on the kitchen table, and every time they catch my eye, I falter.
A flower for me. An apology.
It wasn’t a damn declaration of love. I have to get it together. I swore at the start of this that I wouldn’t trust a man again or let them take control of my destiny. Cash has to factor into that, but it’s so difficult to bear that in mind because I know him. He wasn’t the type of person who messed around. He was faithful to Olivia.
Or was he?
I have no idea what happened. I’m so curious, it’s eating me up inside, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stopped and checked my phone, halfway toward looking him up. But if Cash was ready to tell me, he would. I’m not going to pry.
I’ll stay in my lane and focus on college applications.
The front door of the house opens, and Cash storms into the kitchen.
His expression is dark, angry, until it lands on me. He frowns. “Loud music?”
“I know it’s not in your spreadsheet,” I say, “but she’s pretty excited about the talent show.”
“That’s fine,” he says, waving it off.
“And she wants to watch School of Rock after dinner,” I say.
“Fine.” He clears his throat, and I’m hyper focused on his Adam’s apple, his muscular, tan neck, his shoulders.
I turn away from him and face the counter. “Dinner should be ready soon. I’m making fajitas.”
“Thanks,” he says, his breath brushing against my neck. Above us is the frantic thumping as Alex dances around in her bedroom.
He’s so close, I know if I turn around, my breasts will brush against his chest. Is he toying with me? Because I can’t take this. The way my body reacts to his presence is treacherous, and as much as I want to believe that I can sleep with Cash without strings attached, I know it’s impossible for me.
I place my hands on the countertop, and I’m about to tell him exactly that, when a knock rattles the front door.
“I’ll get it,” I say, and walk past him without making eye contact.
I open the front door and my relief at being away from Cash is short-lived. My mother stands on the front step, a half-smoked cigarette in one hand. She’s wearing her work clothes from the grocery store, and she’s got that mean look on her face. The one that precedes a slap or an insult.
“June Jackson,” she says. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
