Page 1 of Crossroads

ONE

“Wake up.”

I barely pry my eyes open at the sound of my mother’s voice but finally manage. I’m instantly hit with the bright sunlight streaming in through my window and close them again when I nearly puke right then and there. “No thanks.”

“Emerson Nathaniel Chapman. Wake up and get out of bed. It’s past noon.”

“Noon? You’re pissed off about noon?” I croak, my head feeling like it might split right open. How can I see the sun through my eyelids? That’s just not cool.

“I’m pissed off about a lot of things,” my mother’s voice tells me, no lies detected there. But what else is new? I’m not exactly a poster child—not the one my parents thought they’d have. One that always closes with sir and ma’am. Says please and thank you.

And okay, to be fair—the kind of kid who doesn’t go out every chance they get to drink and tear up shit. Maybe doesn’t sleep around a little too much.

Right on cue with that last thought, I hear a soft snicker next to me and turn my head to see a mess of dirty blonde hair and big green eyes staring at me. Well, fuck me.

“Jaclyn Diane Williamson. I know that’s you, missy.” I wince. Shit. My mom is using everyone’s middle name today. “You too. Get up. You need to go home.”

“We’re a little, uh . . .” I turn so I’m on my back, making sure the covers are covering my lower half as I peek my eyes open enough to look at my very stern, unhappy mother. “Naked,” I say, not coming up with anything better.

She huffs, her crossed arms falling to her sides as she glares daggers at me. “Get dressed. Both of you. And then, Jaclyn, go home. Tell your mother I’ll talk to her later.”

She leaves, closing the door behind her with a loud click, though she doesn’t slam it. Maria Chapman never slams doors. She never loses her temper. She doesn’t yell. But sometimes, I wish she would. Anything other than that stern, cold demeanor that says I ruined her life and let her down.

“Jesus, your mom is intense.”

I snort and sit up in bed, rustling my hair with my fingers.

I need a haircut. It’s getting a little shaggy on top—but fuck it.

Jackie sits up, her naked tits on full display as she gathers all her blonde hair and pulls it into a ponytail.

I should want to fuck her again. I should be drooling like all the other guys in our class—but I don’t think my mom is the only one who’s dead inside.

Because all I want is for her to leave, so I can climb back under the covers alone.

“You think you’re really in trouble? She sounded serious.” I snort.

“No. I don’t. I think she’s just bored.”

She grabs the T-shirt she was wearing last night and pulls it on, finding her jean shorts after that and standing up to pull them on. “You okay?” No. I don’t want to do the morning-after talk.

I like Jackie. I really do. We’ve known each other a long time. Went to the same private school in Kansas City since we could toddle. But I’m not one to lay my heart out there and talk. I fucking hate talking.

“I’m fine. Maybe you should ask your boyfriend how he is?”

She places a hand on her hip and glares at me. “You’re such a dick.”

Maybe. But I don’t really hide that fact either.

“He’s not my boyfriend anyway. I told you that last night.”

They’ll be back together by tonight, mark my words. I wave her off and grab a pair of jeans, tugging them on over my bare ass. “Whatever.”

She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head, clearly not impressed. That’s kind of why I don’t mind hooking up with Jackie—she doesn’t expect that much from me. “See you around, Em.”

I nod in acknowledgment before she grabs her phone and keys, heading out of my room. I decide to climb back into my bed instead of searching out my mother. I’m sure she’s already forgotten what she wanted to talk to me about anyway.

No such luck.

A few moments later, there’s a soft knock on my door, and then I hear my mother walking over to me. “Emerson. I told you to get up.”

“Mom, I was still up when the sun rose. I’m tired.”

“We need to talk.”

I’m not sure why those words make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

She’s said them many, many times. We need to talk about your grades.

We need to talk about how much you’re drinking.

We need to talk about your choice in girls.

So many things we need to talk about which usually boil down to me not being good enough. But there’s more to it this time.

I can feel it deep in my bones.

I sit up slowly and look up at my mother, who moves to the edge of my bed and sits down on the far corner. “I can’t keep doing this, Emerson. Something needs to change.”

“Yeah well, I’ll be out of your hair in three months.” Honestly, I can’t wait to go to college. It’s something I’ve been dreaming about since I can remember.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

My hackles rise. “College?”

She nods her head, her face looking grim. “We aren’t going to pay for your college, Emerson.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I jump out of bed so fast, I nearly trip as I face her.

“You aren’t paying for my college? How can you pull that on me three months before it starts.

I did what you two asked me to do. I finished high school.

I didn’t embarrass you both by getting kicked out. I graduated.”

She holds up one hand, silencing me and showing no emotion whatsoever. “Sit back down.”

Is she serious right now? She drops this bomb on me, and she just wants me to settle down and act like my world isn’t crashing down.

I hated high school—but I was looking forward to college.

To go out in the real world—away from my parents’ pretentious rich friends.

Away from their expectations. I was finally going to get to breathe. And now, it’s falling apart.

She stares at me until I finally give in—sitting back down on the edge of my bed. “You didn’t let me finish.”

I cock my brow at her, words lost on me.

“We aren’t going to pay for your college unless you do something for me. This summer.”

“Do what?” I question, uneasiness still rocking my entire body.

My mother folds her hands in her lap, looking slightly nervous—but that doesn’t seem right. My mom is never nervous. Always poised and perfect. “You’re going to go stay with your Aunt Kelly this summer.”

“My Aunt—” I scrunch my nose, racking my brain for what the hell she’s talking about.

“The aunt I’ve never met? Your sister?” We don’t really do the whole family thing in the Chapman family.

We have quiet, boring holidays where it’s just the three of us.

Summers are the same. There are no big family reunions or vacations.

I remember my mom mentioning she has a sister a couple of times, but not often at all.

“Yes.” She seems almost pained. “She and her husband own a ranch or farm or something. They raise cattle and corn, I believe.”

I gawk at her. “What?”

She straightens her shoulders, and her eyes lock on me—that no-nonsense look back on her face. “They could use some help this summer. You’re going to be that help.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not, and watch your mouth.”

“I’m not a farmer, Mom. I wouldn’t be much help.”

“She just needs a strong person to help her out. Don’t worry. She’ll direct you on what to do.”

She stands up, like she’s about to leave. Like this is just happening and there’s nothing I can do about it. Over my dead body. “Yeah, I’m not going to some farm in the middle of nowhere all summer just so you can get rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you, Emerson.

I love you.” I snort, even though my stupid heart clenches in my chest, actually hearing those words from my mother.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard her say that throughout my whole life.

She sits back down on the bed, and for a moment I think she regrets saying it, but then she places a small hand on my knee.

“I wanted you so badly. So badly. I thought for sure it wasn’t going to happen, but then it did. You were born, and I was so happy.”

She didn’t show it. But I manage to keep quiet.

I know my mom was forty when she had me—which, in Kansas City, isn’t that old.

But still, it’s Midwest old to start having kids.

She married my father when she was twenty-five, and they tried for years.

Then for whatever reason, they had me. And I’ve been letting them down ever since.

“I had so many hopes for you. I wanted to be a mother.”

“What does this have to do with me working for your sister for the summer? A sister you don’t even talk to.”

“That’s not true. We talked the other day when she agreed to give you a place to stay and even a weekly paycheck.”

“What? A step above minimum wage?”

“With room and board.”

I nearly choke. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not. At all. We spoiled you, Emerson.” I want to laugh, but I don’t when her look cuts me off. “We wanted a child for so long, and then when you came along, we didn’t want to say no. We didn’t want to see you sad, so we gave you everything. And you’ve turned into a spoiled brat.”

“Gee, Mom. Tell me how much you love me some more,” I deadpan.

She doesn’t roll her eyes, but I can see her fighting it—struggling to stay poised. “And I realized, I’m about to throw you out into the real world, and you have no idea what can happen to you. You’re so used to us bailing you out.”

“Oh my God. I was arrested one time, and I told you I didn’t throw the brick. That was Dusty.”

A heavy sigh leaves my mother’s lips. “I’m not talking about actually bailing you out of jail, although that was super fun, Emerson.

” I cross my arms in a huff. “I mean everything. We spoil you. You don’t know how to work hard.

You’re used to us paying for everything.

At Kelly’s, you’ll learn that. I know I failed you as a mother, and I’m sorry for that.

I know one summer isn’t going to fix everything, but I’m hoping you’ll learn something. Anything to make your life easier.”

“Which is it, Mom? My life is too simple or too hard?”

“It’s going to be very hard as an adult if you don’t learn the basic things I failed to teach you.”

I notice the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall down and mess up her perfect makeup. The urge to run far away from that image and this conversation takes over, but I remain seated. “I’m not working on some farm in the middle of nowhere Kansas. It’s not happening.”

“It is,” she says firmly, her eyes meeting mine.

“Or I won’t pay for your college. These are the terms. You will drive to Kensley, to your aunt’s home, where you’ll help her for the next three months.

You won’t get into any trouble. No fights with the locals.

No fights with your aunt. You’ll be respectful and work hard.

Do what she tells you, or that’s it, Emerson.

I will cut you off completely. You won’t stay here anymore, and I won’t pay for your college. ”

I stare at her in utter shock. “Dad won’t let this happen.”

“I’ve had to fight your father for the past year to pay for your college. Trust me, he will. I begged him to give you this chance.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor as I stare at her. “I . . .”

“I know it’s scary, but you can do this, Emerson. I believe in you. This will be good for you. I promise.”

“Really?” I glare at her. “Is that why you left Kensley and never looked back?”

She flinches—a momentary break in her icy armor—but she recovers as she stands up. Reaching into her pocket, she hands me keys to a Ford and some cash.

“Your credit card has been locked. I sold your car, but don’t worry—” She nods toward the keys in my hand.

“This one is reliable. Your father would have preferred I gave you a junker, but I’m still a mother and couldn’t let you drive eight hours, knowing you might get stuck on the side of the road. ”

“Mom—” I stand up, ready to argue more, but she holds up her hand once again.

“It’s not up for discussion. This is happening. I’ll text you with the hotel information. It’s in a town about halfway. You just need to show your ID. It’s already paid for, and the cash should be enough to get you there—for gas and food.”

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. They’re cutting me off. I have a trust fund—as most of us do around here—but I don’t have access to it until I turn twenty-five.

“This’ll be good for you. Your dad is in his office, if you’d like to say goodbye.” Not a fucking chance. “Pack for warm weather. Summers in Kensley are no joke.”

“It’s still the same state.”

She actually smiles at that and shakes her head. “Trust me. It gets hot there in the summer. Drive safely. Let me know when you get there.”

“Mom . . .” I try as she starts toward the door. She stops right at the threshold and looks back over at me over her shoulder. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. Why can’t you just wait it out for three more months? Pay for my college, and you’ll be rid of me.”

She turns around fully now, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

“I don’t want to be rid of you. I just need you to take something seriously for once.

To live up to your potential. If we send you to college the way you’re going now, you’ll flunk out in the first semester.

We all know it. You know it,” she says coldly, but it sounds like it actually hurts her to say it.

Why, I’m not sure. She has no problem telling me what a fuck up I am—though my dad is the number one in that category.

“Drive safely,” she says again, a final edge to her voice before she leaves the room entirely, giving me her back.

I move to my bed and sit down again, staring at the car keys and the cash in my hand.

They cut me off, and they’re kicking me out.

It finally happened.

My biggest fantasy and my greatest fear.

Now, what the hell am I going to do?