Page 53 of Act Like You Don't Care
“Wouldn’t be the first person to build up an entire backstory out of nothing,” Miles agreed, putting a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and pan-fried potatoes on the table in front of Jim, and another, smaller one in front of me. “Eat,” he told me. “You’ll be back filming again soon and you’ll need your strength.”
I made a face and ignored the plate. “Not hungry.”
“Tam,” he said quietly. “Please.”
I hated him and I hated me, because my first impulse was to pick up my fork like a good little omega and eat so it would please him. It was like being back home with my father again, only with Miles it was because I wanted to make him happy. “No,” I said coldly and got up from my chair. “Can I borrow your phone? I should let my mother know everything’s sorted. I’m going to assume you’ve already let the studio know.”
Miles nodded and handed it over, but I avoided looking too closely at him because I didn’t want to know what kind of emotion my behavior was triggering. I didn’t think I could handle it if I saw disappointment in his eyes.
Oh, what am I worried about? He’s just a warm alpha body, right?
"Thank you," I said, trying to be polite. I nodded to Jim, then took the phone out into the living room and stood in front of the big window with the curtains pulled back to let the California sunshine in. Hoping it would burn away some of this sense of doom I was feeling. "Hey, Mom," I said when she finally picked up.
"I was hoping it was you. Are they still keeping your phone?"
In the background on her line, I could hear the scrape of a spoon against the side of a bowl. "I should be getting it back soon. They caught him."
Her voice shook with relief. "Oh, thank heavens!"
“Yeah. You probably can’t tell anyone, but they say he’s a Vinist.”
“Well, they’re all a little off,” she said flatly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. So, are you going back home?”
“Tomorrow, they said. I have to call Will and find out what this has done to the schedule.” I heard the spoon scrape again and couldn't help myself. "What are you making?"
"Carrot cake. There's a bake sale, fundraiser thing. They were wondering if you'd donate something, but I'll tell them it's not a good time."
"No, don't do that. I'll call the studio and see if they'll donate a t-shirt or something." My own stuff—how much had Miles’s family washed for me? "What's the rest of the family up to?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. Griff—you remember Dean's mate—talked Shane and his new mate into coming out here for a week on March Break—the kids have never been to Disney, though, to be honest, I think it's more Griff's idea than Conner's."
I laughed and leaned against the glass and let the conversation wander where it would. A wide wooden deck stretched out in front of the house, the first time I’d actually seen it due to the no uncovered windows policy the past few days. The railing was dotted with bird feeders that seemed to be well-known in the neighborhood as a source of free food. Probably Miles had been keeping them filled while we were here, but I wondered who looked after them otherwise.
Eventually, Miles came around the corner and held my plate up to get my attention. I was tempted to turn my back on him, but talking to Mom made me feel a bit more normal. And I was starting to get hungry. "I gotta go, Mom. Breakfast."
"All right. I love you. Be careful, please. I wish you'd come home again for a while, get away from that place. It isn't good for you. Bring Will too."
"I have to live here, Mom. It's my job." I wasn't near wealthy enough, or established enough to move to some other state. Being close and easily available was part of the job. "I'll call you whenever I know something new, okay?"
"Okay."
We said our goodbyes and I headed for the kitchen. Jim was gone again—I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Now that the whole reason for Miles’s and my relationship had evaporated, it felt awkward to be alone with him. "Thanks," I said and handed the phone back. My plate still steamed lightly on the table—he must have warmed it up for me.
I really was an asshole, wasn’t I?
"How's she handling it?" Miles asked.
"Good, but she's pretty unflappable. You'd have to be, in her family." Just thinking about it made me homesick, a little, for summers in Oceanport.
"Crazy relatives?" Miles took a bite of toast and watched me amiably while he chewed.
"Kind of." I took a bite of my bacon, perfectly crisp, and thought about how to describe my family. "She's got two sisters. One's omega, the other isn't--I have cousins coming out of my ears. But you probably know that already." I took another bite of bacon and shrugged. "You know about my dad. I don't have anything to do with him anymore, except to laugh when I trash his emails asking for money because he's going to be evicted for not paying his rent. And the rest of that family acts like we don’t exist, which Mom keeps saying is a blessing. But the Oceanport crew are all right." More than all right, truthfully.
Maybe I’d ask Will about making room in my schedule to go home again for a while. I hadn’t been raised there, but somehow, it was still home.
"That's shitty. About your father."
I shrugged and poked at my eggs with my fork. "It happens, right? We did all right, and now she's in a nice condo in Florida and he’s not, so it sucks to be him. She doesn't want for anything, and I made sure she has extra bedrooms so all the nieces and nephews can come visit." I scooped up a forkful, stared at them for a moment, then shrugged and put them in my mouth.
