Page 92 of The Pass Protection
“You think Campbell has a problem with it? She’s never seemed bothered when I bring girls back.”
“I don’t think she cares. She told us from the beginning she wouldn’t cramp our bachelor life or however she worded that.”
Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I take in my friend. From the outside, he seems to be the same Jeremiah with his clean fade, beaming smile, and dressed to kill. But on the inside, turmoil is raging in JP’s mind. “Everything been okay with you?”
“Shit, Riggs, hit me with the Dr. Phil question.” He sighs, staring out in front of us.
His eyes reflect a variety of emotions. And just when I think he will ignore me, he lets out a deep sigh.
“Things are rough at home. My mom is trying, but my siblings are getting older, and the expenses are piling up. I can’t sit here, with a full ride at my dream school, and not help them chase theirs. Jessa is a junior and was asked to attend a camp this summer. It’s expensive as hell, but she has a chance to receive a scholarship to go to Juilliard. The school for performing arts. I can’t let her miss out on that opportunity.”
He pauses our conversation as people pass by. Claps on our shoulders and congratulatory remarks are made as they walk by.
Hoisting his backpack higher on his shoulders, JP continues. “Then there are the twins. Jalen and Jacoby are in the eighth grade. Their class is going to Washington DC, this spring, so there are extra costs associated with that. My little sister, Juniper, is growing like a weed, and her body style is different from Jessa’s, so her hand-me-downs don’t fit. It’s just a fucking lot. It’s hard to be here when they need support in Houston.”
“Fuck, man,” I sigh. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Hell no. I appreciate it, man, but we aren’t a charity case.” Anger rolls off his shoulders at the implication that we help him.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Besides, we’re a family here, and family has each other’s backs. No matter what. Don’t carry the world’s weight on your shoulders when there are people here who will bend over backward to help you.”
With a terse nod, the conversation is dropped. JP flings open the doors to the union as I follow him to the cafeteria.
Voices echo off the walls as we near the cafeteria. Everyone is inside during their lunch breaks. The smell of chili wafts in the air, and a hunger I didn’t know I had rumbles in my stomach. The smellof simmering spices invades my senses as I’m transported home. A crockpot full of Mom’s home-cooked chili simmers while the flavors mingle together. Fresh cornbread bakes in the oven as we sit on the couch with football playing in the background. Sundays were for chili and football, and we gathered around as a family.
Walking through the crowded cafeteria, I head straight to the soup station and ladle a steaming scoop of chili into a bowl. I chuckle at realizing it’s Texas-style chili, which means no beans. In Ohio, our chili is half beans with a mixture of black, kidney, pinto, and ranch-style pinto beans. With a chunk of cornbread, I head to the cashier to check out.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find that JP has found a group of ladies to chat with. Since he’s occupied, I enter the seating area and scan the room for someone to sit with. My eyes land on the Campbell siblings, Grant and Bret, who are sitting across from each other in what seems to be a heated discussion. As I reconsider sitting with them, Bret’s emerald eyes land on mine. I hold her gaze and read the rescue flag she’s waving. The decision is made, and I steel my shoulders to join them.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Grant grits out while Bret says, “No.”
“S’up guys,” Cody greets as he slides up behind me.
He and I take the open seats at their table as relief flashes over Bret’s face.
The universe is out to punish me today. Not only did I sleep through my alarm, but I managed to shut my finger in the bathroom door, spill my hot coffee all over the kitchen, and barely make itto class in time. Everything about this day has been wrong. And to make matters worse, as I scanned the cafeteria for something greasy to eat—thanks, period—I stumbled into my grump of a brother.
No, I literally stumbled into him. As I was turning around from grabbing a Coke, I ran right into him. His nostrils flared as frustration covered his face.
“Sorry,” he grumbles.
“What’s got your panties in a knot?” I ask, closing the door to the refrigerator and carrying my tray to the cashier.
Tina, the usual cashier, isn’t here today, which is a bummer because I could use one of her famous cookies, which she reserves for her favorites. And since Grant is one of her favorite people, I’ve become one, too.
“It’s been a shit week.” The sound of Grant’s voice startles me as I walk through the seating area in search of a table. I forgot he was following me.
Dropping my tray on an empty four-seater, I plop in the chair. “It’s only Monday.”
“Yeah, and I’m over it.” He pulls out the chair across from me as I take in his grilled chicken sandwich and a huge salad.
Lifting my burger to my mouth, a small smile touches my lips as Crew pops into my head. The juicy, thick burger loaded with tomatoes, ketchup, mustard, and extra pickles reminds me of our conversation in San Antonio about what it would be like if we could eat one food for the rest of our lives. Chewing a mouthful, I use my napkin to wipe up the dripping ketchup.
“Want to talk about it?” I say around a mouthful.
Grant scoffs. “Oh, now you want to talk? Addy, I’ve been trying to get you to talk for weeks.”
