Page 27 of Four Simple Rules
A heaviness sits on my chest when his hollow eyes meet mine. With robotic movements and no emotions at all, he utters the most heartbreaking words.
“She’s gone,” he mutters, gazing at the wall decorated with our family pictures. “She…” He squeezes his eyes shut, blowing a breath between his lips.
“She what?” I breathe with tears in my eyes. Strong arms wrap me up, pulling my face into Jesse’s chest. “No! You’re a liar!” I whisper, sucking in oxygen. “Please tell me.”
“She was in a car accident, Pumpkin,” he whispers. “Her car rolled off the road in a drunk driving accident. She’s not coming home, again.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
She was just here in the living room. She was alive. Well, as much as she could be. How can she die like that?
“Tulip?” Jesse asks, bumping his shoulder into mine and knocking me out of my memory. “Are you okay?”
I blink several times, forcing the wood laminate floors to come into view. I may be standing in the house that broke me down, but it’s not the same as it was before.
“Fine,” I retort quickly, looking around the familiar kitchen with new pieces of decoration hanging on the walls. Grace’s touches, I’m beginning to realize.
“Liar,” he accuses, handing me a hand towel. “I’ll wash, and you dry.”
I dart my eyes to the loaded-up sink and nod. “Sure.”
Heavy water pours from the faucet, billowing steam through the room as the sink fills, covering the dishes in a soapy mixture.
An awkward silence settles over us as we stand side-by-side while Jesse begins scrubbing a plate. We’re unsure what to say to one another—a stark difference from when we were kids. Before, we could have a whole conversation with one look.
Now, Jesse and I have a lot of unsaid words and broken promises to get out into the open. It won’t be pretty. Not at all. I’ll probably yell until I’m blue in the face. Before I leave Brighton again, I’m determined to find the answers to my questions.
“So, you spied on me?” I blurt, grabbing the first plate from him, drying the excess water droplets off the surface, and placing them in the cabinet.
So many things have changed in this house, except where the plates go. The decorations are different—more homey. Even the vibe is relaxed—more peaceful. When my parents lived here, there was always an edge between them. Tension hung in the air like a thick fog, forcing Gavin and me into playing outside and hiding away from their anger.
With Grace? From what I've gathered, my father seems to be a happier person. I’ve only been here for a few hours, but it feels like an eternity.
Walking into the house for the first time was like walking into a happy cloud of change. Vacation pictures hung from the wall, detailing Grace’s and my father’s time together on the beach. Their smiles lit up the photos, illuminating the life-altering change they went through by marrying each other. My father never lit up like that with my mother.
It was always shouting and tearing each other down. Well, before Gavin, they were hanging on by a thread. Our family photos were forced smiles. After Gavin? Well, that’s when the truth shined through. Anger. Resentment. Hate. And that was the end of their chapter—my chapter. Gavin was the piece keeping us together.
Now, being here is a breath of fresh air. Seeing the happiness fluttering through the house almost brightens it, instead of dooming shadows hanging out in every corner, ready to pounce and make our lives miserable. I may not be on good terms with my father yet, but our healing is on the horizon.
Same with the idiot fumbling around beside me, nervously washing the next plate, unsure of what to say next. Jesse struggles with the next plate, nearly dropping it into the filled-up sink. “I, um,” he clears his throat, dunking the dish into the water and scrubbing it vigorously, “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“You coulda messaged and said hey,” I murmur with a shrug.
“Would you have answered?” he asks with his eyes darting to me. My shoulders lift in response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not that I didn’t deserve it, Tulip.”
If Jesse had sent a message, I probably would have blocked and deleted him for my mental health. Even though it was ten years ago—light years in the past—I can’t just get over it. His words. The looks he sent me in front of his friends. The way he made me feel when he slid between my legs for the first time and held me like I was the most precious person.
“Yeah, you were kind of a jerk,” I grumble, taking the next plate from him and wiping it clean. Reaching over, I set it in the cabinet like the rest and sigh through the awful memories swirling in my mind.
“Kind of? And are you still not cursing, Tulip? I was an asshole. A fucker. A dick.” My eyes jerk to him, and he winks at me. “You can say it. You’re an adult.”
Tingles erupt all over my body the filthier his words get. Somehow, after all these years, he still has this effect on me. Heat flashes on the back of my neck, working its way up my cheeks.
“All of those, then.” I avert my eyes to the counter, breaking our contact.
He chuckles, “You still feel dirty saying them?”
“No,” I huff.
