Jax’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said stiffly, untangling himself from her hold. Almost immediately, he sat down next to Bre, placing his hand on her leg. Bre smiled inwardly at his clear rebuff of her mom’s advances.
Bre’s mom eyed his proprietary placement of his hand. “So I guess Cam is history. That’s interesting. I thought you two would end up married with kids and a picket fence any day now.”
“Cam and I are still together,” Bre responded defensively, a pink blush staining her cheeks.
Bre’s mom let out a sarcastic laugh. “Really? From the looks of you two curled up on the sofa together, I would’ve never guessed. Maybe Cam is willing to overlook more than most men, but the scene I walked into didn’t look very innocent.”
“Jax and I are friends. We just fell asleep on the sofa last night, nothing more.” Bre felt Jax’s hand squeeze her leg.
“Whatever. Just keep telling yourself that.” Bre’s mom flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulder.
Bre had always wished she looked more like her mom with her dainty features, all-American blonde hair and blue eyes, but now, in the morning light, Bre noticed that her beauty seemed to be marked by hard lines and misery.
Bre was her mother’s polar opposite, in coloring and personality. Her mother was light and breezy, whereas Bre was serious and reserved. Bre obviously resembled the dark haired, olive-skinned father she had never met. She didn’t even know his name. Sometimes she stood in front of the mirror, tracing the lines of her face, wondering what part of her resembled him. True to her selfish nature, her mother always deflected Bre’s interest in her father by saying things like he’s not worth knowing.
Once she begged her grandmother for his name or any tidbit of information about him, but she looked at Bre with sad eyes, claiming she had to respect her mother’s decisions regarding her father, but that Bre should take comfort in the fact that he was a man worth knowing. Instead of making her feel better, the comment made her feel as though her mother had stolen one more thing from her.
“Mom, do you need any help?” Bre asked, hoping she could speed up her mother’s departure.
“No. I don’t need much. Charles promised to buy me a new wardrobe to make up for the loss of my mother. I’m going to stuff some things in my spare bag, and you can ship me the rest. I’ll text you a forwarding address when I’m settled.”
Bre’s eyes followed her mother as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Strange enough, Bre felt the urge to laugh. Even when something as monumental as a death in the family happened, her mother twisted the situation to be about her and how she was wronged. She would never change.
“Bre, are you okay?” Jax said, grabbing her hand.
“Yes.” She took in a deep breath and released it. “Sorry about that. She’s a piece of work.”
“Nobody’s family is perfect. My dad is a self-absorbed workaholic who hardly bothered with me or my mother, and my mother, well, I love her, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s wasted her life staying married to my father. They don’t even acknowledge each other in public. It’s dysfunctional to the extreme.”
“Well, at least you know your father. My mother won’t give me a name or a picture or one single bit of information about him.” The minute the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to recall them. She hated to admit those facts to anyone. Not knowing her father made her feel small and inadequate. Sensing Jax watching her, she studied her bare feet, unable to deal with his scrutiny.
Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her. “Bre, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Bre said softly, her face buried in Jax’s chest, his embrace warm and comforting. She loved the way he smelled, the way he felt.
“Then don’t. We can focus on completely superficial things for the rest of the day if that makes you happy.”
She opened her eyes and saw Jax looking down at her with an unfathomable expression, his eyes burning into hers. “When do you leave?” she asked.
“I bought a one-way ticket, so I can leave today or stay a few more days if you need some help. It’s up to you.”
Bre’s heart started beating faster. She wanted him to stay, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that it wasn’t a good idea. “Are you sure you don’t have to go back to LA? Don’t you have a performance or something?”
“Nope. Not until Saturday night. So I can go home tomorrow or early Saturday morning, whatever you want.”