Page 66

CHAPTER 66

KING

IT IS TOO LATE

I couldn’t see any possibility of this going great.

It wasn’t like my mom had a personal grudge against Willow, her concern rested on the fact that she was the coach’s stepdaughter and Lawson had done so much for us. The fact I had a tattoo for Willow didn’t help.

The truck was silent as I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t say much on the drive except warning her what my mom thought about the situation and how my family wasn’t subtle.

"I can take you home," I insisted again.

"King—"

"You don’t have to?—"

Willow touched my arm. "It's going to be fine."

"But if it’s not, you don’t have to stay?—"

My words stopped when Willow gently pulled me to her. She stroked my face and my body lit up when I realized what she wanted. I caught her lips for a kiss, definitely what I needed before we went inside.

"Have to get it out of your system," she whispered. "Can’t kiss in front of Jasmine."

"Shit. That’s right."

"She’ll wander into Lawson’s office and be like ‘ um, saw them touching tongues? ’"

"If we’re touching tongues, it’d be like this."

My tongue swiped along her bottom lip before I tugged her in for the kind of kiss you can’t do in public. Willow melted underneath me while I tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss, giving me one last good thing before we had to head inside.

When I broke away, Willow drew in a deep breath. "Yeah…none of that."

I hummed in agreement, smirking.

"Until later, " she amended.

With a chuckle, I stepped out of the truck then opened her door, leading her up the walkway with our bags over my shoulder. Behind me, I heard the familiar sound of one of the crystals landing in the grass and I stopped to grab it.

"Sorry, I bumped it," she apologized.

I lined it up with its permanent shadow, where the crystals had sat for so long, the sun discolored the walkway until you could line them up like puzzle pieces. "No worries, I do it all the time."

"What are they?"

"My mom has this big thing about rocks and crystals and stones. She collects them. They’re really important to her." I hesitated. "I think sometimes when people have a lot of stuff out of their control, they find something important to keep them together."

Willow gave me a curious look. "Has that been on your mind?"

"Not really. It’s how I’m living."

"What’s your important thing?"

A wry smile crossed my face. "It’s kind of funny. I used to think I didn’t need one."

Before I fished out the key, the door swung open and there was my mom. She looked so tired. Too pale.

"I’m not throwing up," she said. "Which is a good sign but?—"

The words died on her lips when her eyes slid from me to Willow.

Willow waved. "Hi, Ms. King."

"I—Willow? Lawson? "

Not to be outdone, Boxer barreled into us, and whined his greeting. Some attack dog.

"I’m not going to the doctor!" Jasmine yelled from her bedroom. "I have a human right! You can’t make me!"

I sighed but Willow put her hands on her hips. "What, Jazzy Jazz, you don’t want to come see me? Your favorite? "

There was a sharp gasp and Jasmine poked her head from down the hall. Her mouth fell open, like my mom’s. She leaped into action and raced down the hallway, arms pumping at her side like she was competing for gold.

" Willow, Willow, Willow! " She wrapped her arms around her legs and squeezed tight.

Willow shot a look my way. "Why aren’t you ever this excited to see me?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m always that excited to see you."

My mom gawked. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I’m here to party." Willow reached for her overnight bag and started pulling out items. "I have popcorn, blue face mask clay, and three movies, which the happy birthday girl gets to pick from." She knelt down to Jasmine. "We’re looking at A Cinderella Story, Daddy Daycare , or Bridge to Terabithia . Never too early to start traumatizing the kids."

"What’s dramatizing?" Jasmine asked.

"Traumatizing," I corrected her. "It means Bridge to Terabithia is a sad movie." I pulled out my phone. "Are we thinking pizza or tacos?"

"Churros," Jasmine said automatically.

"I meant real food, Jazz. You’re not only eating churros."

"King?" My mom said, with an obvious nod to the kitchen. "We need to talk."

No. I didn’t want to. We already had long conversations over the phone where she tried to convince me to get rid of my new tattoo. But the sooner we talked, the sooner we could wrap it up. I passed my phone to Willow and Jasmine, to figure out what they wanted.

In the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, silent.

My mom sank into one of the chairs. "King."

"I don’t want to fight."

"Does Lawson know?"

I shifted uncomfortably and shook my head.

"Does Willow know about the tattoo?"

Another shake of my head.

"Does she know about your father?"

It was silent between us while I could hear the girls laughing in the living room. "Not everything."

"If you don’t tell her, Lawson will. That’s going to be his first concern."

"I know."

"You should tell her tonight."

" Tonight? "

"Tonight."

"I’ll tell her. I will. It’s going to happen. But I kept messing up and now it’s good again and—" I stopped myself. "I don’t want to ruin this, Mom. I don’t want to lose her."

"King…"

"I don’t know how she’s going to look at me."

She took a deep breath. "There are other girls?—"

"No. There’s not."

"You’re twenty-one, you don’t know. I was fourteen, I thought I was so smart, thought I knew everything, getting with an older guy, leaving home. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I?—"

"I know."

"You’re not a mistake." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I didn’t mean to say that. I’m trying to say it’s not too late."

I flashed my tattoo and walked out of the kitchen. "I love you, but it is too late."

The girls deployed the pull-out couch with a mountain of pillows and blankets, but they were in the bathroom…flooding it? I checked inside to see water everywhere.

"I’m teaching her how to wash her face," Willow explained, breathless with laughter.

Her entire face was covered in bright blue clay. I forced the grin on my face until it felt like a real one. "You look like a Smurf."

"Don’t we look beautiful?!" Jasmine demanded, equally covered in as much bright blue crap.

"Oh, yeah. Beautiful Smurfs."

"Okay." Willow gestured towards the sink. "Your turn."

"My turn for what?"

"Wash your face."

I frowned. "The…mask is for you and Jasmine."

"Uh, no. Why do you think I brought it to your place?" Willow giggled. When I didn’t budge, she turned back to Jasmine. "King’s not being fun, is he?"

"Nope!"

"Jazzy Jazz, do you have any hair ties?"

Jasmine showed her the collection under the sink and Willow motioned me to kneel. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I didn’t really have much of a choice. I dipped down and Willow tied up my hair, like I had enough hair to tie up in the first place.

"It’s so thick," she murmured.

"Is that why you need fourteen hair ties?"

"No, it’s at this awkward length where I don’t want to get it in your face and it’s too short to pull up altogether." She stepped back. "Get to washing."

I gave her a long look but finally pumped hand soap and started rubbing it on my chin.

"What are you doing? "

"Washing my face?"

"With hand soap? "

I stared at her in the mirror. "Isn’t that how you wash your face?"

"Oh my god." Willow took a deep breath. "First of all. No. Second of all, wash your hands first, and then use this ." She nudged a pink bottle closer to me on the counter. "We’re going skincare shopping. Next thing you’ll be telling me you don’t use sunscreen."

I paused before washing my face how she wanted it.

"You don’t use sunscreen? "

"He doesn’t use sunscreen!" Jasmine shrieked.

"Narc," I muttered in Jasmine’s direction. "Willow, I don’t burn."

"That doesn’t matter. Do you want sunspots? Skin cancer?"

I could’ve pretended to be annoyed but if I was honest, I liked Willow’s attention. I liked that she cared enough to worry about something as small as sunscreen. I shot her a sheepish grin in the mirror while she made me lather the weird-smelling soap for a full minute before washing it off. Once that was done, she sat me down on the edge of the bathtub and held out the clay mask for Jasmine.

"You’re using sunscreen," she pushed while Jasmine slathered me with the clay mask. "Repeat after me. I’m. Using. Sunscreen."

I gazed up at her, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I’m using sunscreen."

"Some up here," Jasmine mumbled under her breath, deep in concentration. "Some down here…"

"Can you believe how Willow’s bossing me around?" I joked.

Jasmine’s mouth curled in indignation. "She’s helping you! You don’t want sunspots!"

"You don’t know what a sunspot is."

"It’s a spot on the sun!"

"I’m about to upgrade your life, Tattoos," Willow murmured, rubbing the clay mask up my jaw. "You’re going to have clear skin at the NFL awards while all of your friends are going to age like grapes on a dashboard."

"You look so beautiful," Jasmine announced before she thumped a thick lump of clay on my forehead.