Page 16

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

JADEN

“ M om, it’s me,” I call out as I enter my mother’s place for my monthly proof-of-life visit. Despite living a short drive away from my mother, I rarely see her.

The home, a gift from me, is much smaller than I wanted for her. It’s a three-bedroom bungalow in a nice neighborhood in the city of Ann Arbor. While I preferred to buy my mother something more grand, it was a struggle to get her to accept this one. She complains that it’s too much house for one person.

I purchased most things my mom owns, from her car to the house and everything in it. I wanted to thank her for all the sacrifices she made when I was growing up. She always had two jobs and worked hard. I was never without, and she even made sure to work enough to pay for my passion for hockey, which is not a cheap sport. While I always had what I needed, I had just that—what I needed and nothing more.

My childhood wasn’t filled with vacations, birthday parties, big holiday celebrations, or elaborate presents. The greatest gift my mom could’ve given me was hockey—and she did just that. Now that I’m making good money, my goal is to make her want for nothing, which is why my face falls when I see her in her diner outfit and apron.

“Hey, Jay. I’m just heading out.” She grabs her car keys from the table by the front door.

“Mom, why are you still working at the diner? If you need more money, I can give you more money.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t work for the money. You’ve given me far too much already.”

“Then why are you working? And at the diner of all places?”

I’m blocking her exit so she’s forced to talk to me. “I’ve been a server my whole life. I’m good at it.”

“You could do anything. Aren’t there any other hobbies or passions you want to explore? You don’t have to be on your feet all day, carrying heavy trays and dealing with jackass customers.”

“Jay.” She sighs. “I don’t want to argue, and I have to go. You know I hate being late.”

“Okay.” I step aside, allowing her to exit the house. I follow, closing the door behind me. “Do you have any free time coming up? We could do dinner, or I could get you tickets to a game?”

She unlocks her car and tosses her purse in. “My schedule is pretty full. I’ll call you.”

I nod as she closes her car door and backs out of the drive. My eyes follow her until the car turns the corner and disappears out of sight. As always, I question why I stopped by in the first place as I descend the front porch steps and walk to my car. Per usual, I feel worse than I did when I arrived. That’s pretty status quo for my visits. I’m not sure what it is about our dynamic, but my mother and I are not close. More than that, sometimes I question whether she even loves me. The thought doesn’t compute because she worked so hard when I was young to give me what I needed. Yet she’s still working hard when neither of us want for anything. Did she work all those hours to avoid me? Does she resent me?

I don’t know, but I feel as if I’ve tried in my adult years to bring us together. The fact remains that we barely know each other. Despite our shared DNA, we’re strangers. She won’t even go to a game, stating that she prefers to watch them on her TV at home. But does she actually watch them? Who knows.

Before pulling out of the drive, I shoot Anna a text to let her know I’m on my way.

We haven’t seen one another since the incident on the sofa. The team has been away on road games for most of the past week, and there hasn’t been a time to get together. We’ve texted regularly, but the conversation hasn’t ventured toward what almost happened, and I doubt it will. Anna made her feelings clear that night. She isn’t interested in a friends-with-benefits situation, so there’s nothing to really talk about anyway.

Will it be difficult to spend time with her knowing what it feels like to touch her so intimately, to have heard the delicious noises she makes when I make her feel good? Yes, most likely torturous. Every part of me wants every part of her, and that desire doesn’t just go away. Despite all that, I’m excited to see her. I’ve missed hanging out, and I’ve chosen a date that won’t put us in any awkward situations.

She’s standing outside the studio door talking to Miranda when I arrive. She doesn’t wait for me to greet her. Instead, she hurries over to the car and gets in.

“Hey!” She leans over the center console to give me a hug.

“No cameras today?” I wave at Miranda through the window and put the car in drive.

“No, not today.”

I always find it odd when we hang out without a staged photo shoot because the whole reason for us getting together were these photos. It leads me to believe that Anna’s feelings for me are more complicated than she lets on. Perhaps it’s true, and she’s not looking for a romantic relationship. But I fill some need because otherwise, she would’ve spent her evening with Miranda.

“Tell me about your week,” I say.

She talks about the scenes she’s shot and what they entailed. I look over at her and smile as she speaks excitedly about every aspect of the process. She really loves what she does. It’s obvious. And I love that for her. I’ve come to realize over the years that most people don’t have a career that fills their soul. For the majority, a job is simply a paycheck. Those like Anna and myself who live for our careers are rare, and it’s a privilege I’ll always be grateful for.

Anna continues chatting, and my mind wanders back to my mother. More specifically, I think about what she gets from her job. She doesn’t serve people food for the money because she doesn’t need the paycheck. Surely the long, hard hours on her feet serving others doesn’t fuel her soul. So why does she do it? Even as I ask myself these questions, I know I have to be fine with never having the answers because she’ll never give them to me. My mom and our relationship are two things I’ve been trying to make sense of for years, and still, nothing makes sense.

“Did you hear me?” Anna says with a grin.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“So?” She twists in her seat to face me.

“So?”

She chuckles. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I heard you,” I say as I pull into the movie parking lot. “I rented out a theater. You love movies so much, I thought we should watch one.”

“Oh, how fun,” she squeals.

Once the car is parked, we walk hand in hand into the theater. “What are we watching?”

“One of the greats—apparently. I’ll have to weigh in after I’ve seen it.”

“ Titanic !”

“The very one.” I laugh.

Anna leans into me and squeezes my arm with her free hand, pleased. She loves this movie and has told me on more than one occasion how great it is. I’ve heard about the imagery, themes, costume, and set design—name the attribute, and Anna has gushed over it. She says while all the movies that receive awards like the Oscars don’t always earn them, this one did. In her words, it was brilliant for its time and is a must-watch. So here we are.

We enter the theater, where the staff eagerly waits. We order half the food they have to offer at concessions and make our way into our private theater.

“Theaters have come such a long way, haven’t they?” Anna asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the leather loungers with a footrest and tray for your food. Back in the day, setups like this didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, I vaguely recall. I love going to the theater now, but I didn’t go much as a kid. One of the kids on my hockey team had a birthday party at a theater once, though I barely remember the setup.”

“Well, I can tell you it wasn’t as nice as this,” she says. She looks at the blankets next to our seats and runs her hand over one of them. “You thought of everything.”

“When you’re dating Annalise Sterling, you have to.” I take a seat.

She sits in the chair beside me and extends her footrest before tossing a blanket over her legs. “Speaking of, did you see the girl with her phone out?”

“Yeah,” I huff. “You pay good money for privacy, and a video will still be posted.”

“It’s always the way. Her video of our movie date will be all over social media by the time we’re done with this movie.”

“I’m not surprised, given that this movie is over three. Hours. Long,” I groan, causing her to laugh.

“It’s worth it. I promise you.”

“I’m just excited to finally weigh in on whether or not there was room on the door. I don’t even know what that means, but when people discuss this movie, that’s what they talk about.”

Anna smiles. “Well, just so you know, there was. But you have about three hours to wait to find out what that means.”

The lights dim, and the movie starts. Anna offers me the box of Sour Patch Kids, and I dig in, grabbing a few.

“The red ones are the best. Agree?” I toss some of the sour gummies in my mouth.

“Shh.” She holds a finger to her lips. “You can’t talk through the movie, or you’ll miss something.”

I laugh. “So you’re that type of movie watcher.”

“Shh.” She repeats the finger to her lips motion.

I raise my hands in surrender and make a show of clamping my lips closed.

Pushing the button, I lean my chair back as far as it will go, and I watch the movie.