"No." I put a stop to her train of thought right there. "He's not starting his life in debt." When my mom was broke, she opened credit cards in my name. I know what it's like to be in debt before you even have the chance to get on your feet.
"It's not going to be much, Jackson. And hell, we can help him pay them off afterward, but-"
"No," I tell her again. "Plus, it's the end of June. It's likely too late for this coming semester, anyway. We'll figure it out. I'll continue to pick up extra hours, or hell, get a side job. It's not as if I don't have the time."
"When do you plan on having a life?" she asks and then softly, "I went on a date the other night."
"Good. I'm happy for you, but I don't want to date. I have too much other shit to worry about."
Zane and my mom to name a few. Still, Steph bringing up dating makes me think about Derek. I haven't called him since we parted on the street a few weeks ago, and he hasn't called me. I don't much see the point, and I'm sure he doesn't either. We have nothing in common other than the fact that we'd both like to fuck each other, but I'm sure as shit not going to fuck a guy who thinks he owes me.
How many other times has he had sex because he feels like he should have to?
How many times since the night I brought him home?
Fuck. Why am I thinking about this kid again?
"Jackson?" Steph says, making me realize she was likely speaking and I tuned it out.
"Go ahead."
"I was just saying you don't have to worry about everything so much. We're in this together. Zane is a responsible boy. He doesn't want his parents to kill themselves to take care of him. Hell, if we'd let him, he'd do this without our help at all. He's very hardheaded. I'm not sure where he got it." Steph winks at me.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I tease, but all I can think about is Zane's college expenses, Mom, and now a twinky blond that I have no business worrying about.
"Just think about it, okay? Even if it's for next year and we find another way to make this year work. There are options."
"I'll think about it." But my mind is made up on the subject. This is what I've always wanted to be able to do for my child.
Steph rolls her eyes, tosses a ten on the table, which I force back into her purse before she leaves. I take another drink of my coffee, but now my thoughts are trapped in Hurricane Derek with the sexy fucking mouth and a tight little body that was hard as hell to turn down.
I picture him telling me he'll give me what I need. He would have pulled his pants down and let me fuck him right there if I'd wanted to-which my dick certainly had-but I'd known better. Does he really think that's all he is?
I'd wanted to lock his little ass inside my apartment until he woke the fuck up and realized that wasn't how shit was supposed to happen.
I have no problems with fucking. Obviously, I'd hoped to get my first taste of a man that night, but there's a difference between fucking because you want sex and fucking because you feel like you have to.
Christ. Why am I thinking about him again?
My phone buzzes against my hip and I pull it out. It's a text from Frankie, my partner at work. Where you at, Grumpy Bear? Your ass is always early.
Fuck off, I text back.
Seriously, bro. Where are you?
I take a couple of swallows and finish my coffee before tossing some cash on the table for the bill and tip. Be there in five.
Get any ass lately? he asks, and I shake my head and shove my phone back into my pocket. I really need a fucking vacation, though with all the responsibilities on my plate, that sure as shit won't be happening anytime soon.
"Eighty-seven-year-old male. Alert, not oriented. He fell, but his granddaughter said he suffered a little altered LOC before the accident, which isn't normal for him. He can remember his name, but not a lot else. Granddaughter should be here in a few minutes. She's his caregiver. He has congestive heart failure and high blood pressure." I finish giving the report in the ER. They ask a few questions, and we get the gentleman transferred to an ED bed before Frankie and I are on our way. We got a call just as I'd gotten to work, so he didn't have much time to ask me about last night but I know it's coming.
The second we're in the ambulance, Frankie behind the steering wheel, he looks at me.
"Shut up," I say before he has the chance to ask.
"I don't listen to your bossy shit. Did you go out or what?"
"No, I didn't. I'm not a child. I have responsibilities. I didn't have the luxury of going out, and even if I did, I wouldn't trust your recommendations. I'm still pissed you sent me to Cockfight that night. What were you thinking?"