"It's all we can afford if you can't get a scholarship, but you're going to get one. I can feel it. You're too smart and too well rounded a student not to get one." She reaches out and pats my hand, then gives it a squeeze. "Now hurry up and finish your breakfast so you can go outside and help your daddy. I'm afraid he's going to overdo it all by himself."
"Mom, can you tell Dad what happened to my eye?" I wince when she sends me a sharp look. "He'll probably react better when he hears it from you. If he sees me before I get a chance to explain, he'll probably want to go beat Cannon and Jordan up."
She shakes her head as she pushes the chair away and stands. "Fine. I'll go warn him for you. But be prepared. He'll probably want to talk about it. And give you a speech. Possibly even ground you."
"You already grounded me!" My appetite is leaving me with every word she says.
"Don't worry, I'll tell him that. You'll be fine." She stops and gently pats my cheek, smiling down at me. "That's one hell of a shiner, sweetie. You need to take photos every day and document it."
"Why?" I ask incredulously.
"So you can show all the photos to Jordan Tuttle and make him feel guiltier and guiltier for what he did to you." She walks away, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
I can hear her evil laughter all the way down the hall.
I send Amanda a quick text to let her know I'm here just before I pull up in front of her house. I thought about her all night. All morning. I can't get her out of my mind, though that's turned into a normal thing for me. I used to fight it, but really. What's the point?
I'm both dying and dreading to see her. I want to check out her eye. Yet I don't want to see it either. Her injury is just an actual, physical reminder of how I hurt her.
And I've hurt her far more emotionally than physically.
The moment I put my Range Rover in park, the front door opens and out comes her mother.
Shit.
She's striding toward my car and I roll down the passenger window, hoping she'll stay over there instead of coming to the driver's side. "Hey, Mrs. Winters," I say weakly.
"Jordan Tuttle. I want to have a word with you." She leans against the car, her head practically poking through the window as she peers at me with eyes that are the same shade as Amanda's. "You hurt my daughter."
Guess she's going to come right out and say it. "Yes, ma'am." Yes, ma'am? I never say that kind of crap. "It was an accident. I feel awful about it."
"You should feel awful. She looks terrible. You hit my daughter. You caused her pain. You physically marked her and now everyone will know what happened," she stresses.
If she's trying to make me feel guilty, she's succeeding. "I know," I say quietly. "I wish I could take it back, but I can't. So I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to her."
"See that you do that." She points at me. "You're lucky I'm letting you drive her to work. I should never let her see you again. You don't deserve her."
My chest goes tight. Everything she's saying is true. She's only confirming all the doubtful feelings I have about me and Amanda. "I really hope you don't do that, Mrs. Winters. Your daughter means a lot to me."
"Really?" The skeptical look she sends me says a million things. All of them starting with, I don't believe you.
"Really." I nod.
"Then prove it." She slaps the side of my car, turns and walks back toward the front door just as it opens, and Amanda walks out. She's wearing jeans that make her legs look ten miles long and a pale pink T-shirt that says Yo Town in white lettering across it. Her long, dark hair is in a ponytail, though there are a few pieces pulled out and hanging over her left eye. They don't disguise the black eye, though. It's obvious she has one.
And I feel like shit for being the one who gave it to her.
The tightness in my chest eases when our gazes connect. A tiny smile curves her perfect lips and she gives her mom a quick hug, nodding at whatever she said before she makes her way toward my car. I hop out of the driver's seat and run around to the passenger side door so I can open it for her.
"Such manners," Amanda murmurs as she starts to climb into the car, but I stop her so I can examine her eye. "It doesn't look so bad, right?"
Her hopeful tone makes me want to lie and agree with her, but I promised myself I wouldn't lie to this girl ever again. "It looks … " I touch the bruise as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt her, but she grimaces anyway.
"Bad, huh?" Her voice is quiet. She reaches up and places her fingers over mine, and her touch soothes away all the earlier worry her mom filled me with. "People are going to talk at school."