Page 64 of The Rebel
Chapter 17
VALENCIA
I’d already peeked out the window and seen Jade’s truck on the driveway and by the time he banged on the front door, I was only moments away from opening it. At first I thought someone must have stolen his truck and randomly driven it into my driveway, because the driving was so reckless and thundered so loudly that I almost thought it was going to come through the living room.
To see him on the verge of tears shocked me.
And when he said, “Come for a ride,” I didn’t hesitate.
Grabbing my bag and phone, I imagined every worse case scenario: Ollie had choked on a pretzel and was in the ER, his mother had fallen and couldn’t walk, Paris’s plane had crashed in Germany and I was now an orphan.
But as Jade sat in the drivers seat and pulled his seatbelt across his lap, I knew my parents were still alive. Very much alive.
Jade’s eyes were a window to his inner turmoil, pools of green swimming in heartache, one only hinted at by the way his fingers had glided over the photo of his Dad as I’d replaced it on the mantelpiece. I detected a loss, and today while watching the soccer game, there was the sense that something was missing, that this had been Mr. Sinclair’s thing, Sunday mornings watching the game with his family, the pillow tradition that they clung to.
My heart shuddered, wondering whether Jade wasn’t over his Dad’s death.
But I didn’t know anything about dying and grief, and the loss of Gabby’s friendship now seemed insignificant. In fact, the more I had thought about Gabby and Scott saying those meanthings about Paris, the less I mourned the loss of our friendship. You see, if anyone laughed at my brother’s failures, then they were dead to me. I’d made that decision in a heartbeat. You couldn’t hate on my brother and be my friend, simple as that. Gabby and Scott could have each other.
I reached out and put my hand on Jade’s leg, well his pants, his black Man City training pants, and I smiled. Or tried to. My lips twitched and my voice was barely a whisper, the same thing he’d said to me when he’d saved me for the millionth time, “I got you.”
He huffed out a laugh, and his eyes brightened and came alive. He turned away for a second, wiping at them before putting one hand on top of mine. He squeezed it and said, “Thanks.”
The warmth sent a swirl of butterflies racing through me, but unfortunately, he needed his hands to steer the truck. As he turned to exit the driveway, he asked, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“The worst thing I’ve ever done?” I repeated in surprised.
“Yeah, like, the baddest thing you’ve ever done.”
I laughed, not sure if he was being serious. “Baddest? Like in breaking the rules?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Sneaking out with Oliver to go sledding?” I said, wondering if he was testing me and wanting a confession.
“Is that the worst thing?”
“Well, you seemed to think it was,” I said with a grin.
“Nothing bad happened, though?”
“You covered for me, so no,” I said, still uncertain where his line of inquiry was headed.
Jade’s focus appeared to be on the road ahead, but as he slowed at the corner, he turned to me and asked, “Would you come to Rosemont with me?”
“Rosemont?” My pitch rose, as it would when it’s suggested you take a 100 mile road trip on a whim, double that to get back home. The only thing I knew about Rosemont was that their country club had green clay courts, and the museum had a big display of butterflies that we went to visit on a field trip in fifth grade.
I doubted Jade wanted to play tennis or was studying butterflies.
“Yeah, it’s stupid, I shouldn’t—”
I interrupted. “What’s in Rosemont?”
“My grandparents—” I heard the hitch in this voice, the hesitation. “I...I haven’t seen them since Dad’s funeral.”
“And they live in Rosemont?” A hundred miles wasn’tthatfar to travel.
Jade nodded, eyes dull with despair.
