Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel Read online

  Callie and I go to the coffee shop, which has the heat turned way up, but I keep Bryce's coat on because the sherpa lining is warm and cozy. And maybe also because it smells like him.

  "So..." Callie holds her coffee by her lips, blowing on the steam. "Anything you want to tell me about last night?"

  "Sorry to disappoint you but nothing happened." I sip my latte.

  "Then what were you guys doing when you disappeared for all that time?"

  "Oh. You mean at the club." I smile. "Yeah, we went behind the stairs and um...kissed."

  "Just kissed?"

  "It might've gone a little farther than that but it's only because we were drunk." I take a long sip of my latte to avoid saying anything more.

  "You didn't um..." She looks around.

  "No!" I nudge her foot. "Come on, you know me better than that. Even if I was really drunk I wouldn't do that at a bar."

  "Yeah, I know. I didn't think you would. And Bryce wouldn't want that."

  "Want what? To do it with me?" I wonder if he told her that, or told Nash and he told Callie.

  "That's not what I meant." She sets her coffee down and leans toward me, lowering her voice. "I meant that he wouldn't want your first time together to be in some club. And he wouldn't want to be drunk when he did it. He'd want it to be special." She smiles. "Because he loves you."

  I roll my eyes but can't stop the smile that forms when she says he loves me. "First of all, he doesn't love me, at least not like that. And second, there's not going to be a first time because he refuses to date me."

  "I'm working on that." A sly grin appears as she picks up her coffee.

  "Callie, don't. I mean it. Don't get in the middle of this. I don't want Bryce being forced to go out with me."

  "I'm not forcing him. It's more of a gentle nudge."

  "Callie, I'm serious. Stop trying to get us together. He's had plenty of chances to make a move and he hasn't. He's made it pretty clear he doesn't want that."

  "He made a move last night," she says, sipping her coffee.

  "Because he was drunk. When we got home, we went right to bed and he didn't even try anything."

  "So he didn't sleep on the couch?"

  "No. I didn't want him to. It's way too small."

  "And he didn't try anything? The entire night?"

  "No. Because we're friends. That's it."

  "Friends who look at each other like they want to tear each other's clothes off." She smiles.

  I shake my head. "That's not true."

  "Are you kidding me? Did you see how he looked at you last night in that dress? He usually looks at you like he's totally in love with you, but last night was pure lust. Passion. He wanted you, and he wanted you bad."

  He did look at me that way, but I didn't think anyone else noticed. I feel my face blushing. "Can we change the subject please? I'm done talking about this."

  "Okay, new topic. So are you going out with Bryce tonight?" She stifles a laugh.

  I sigh. "Any topic that doesn't involve Bryce."

  "Okay, okay. What are your plans for next week?"

  "I'd like to spend it catching up on sleep but I have a paper to write and I need to send some resumes out."

  "Where are you applying?"

  "All over the place. I have a whole list of job openings. I'm just going to apply for all of them and see if I can get an interview."

  "You really want to leave Chicago?"

  I don't answer right away, because the truth is, I don't want to leave. But lately I've been thinking it might be for the best. If Bryce is never going to see me as anything more than a friend, then there's no use sticking around. And honestly, it'll be easier to get over him if we aren't in the same city. I'll miss Bryce's family, and Callie and Ivy, but I can always come back and visit.

  "Jen?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. I spaced out for a minute. Um, yeah, I think I'm ready to leave Chicago. Like you said, it's freezing here. Maybe I'll go somewhere warm."

  "And what about Bryce?" she asks cautiously.

  I shrug. "What about him? We'll still be friends. I can call him on the phone."

  "You know that's not what I mean," she says softly.

  "I'm not waiting around for him, Callie. My career is important to me. I've worked really hard to put myself through college and I want a good job."

  "Chicago is a huge city. You could get a good job here."

  "I know, but..." I sigh. "Maybe I just need to get away."

  "Guys are so stupid," she mutters.

  I smile because she looks almost as frustrated as I feel, and this isn't even about her. "Well, it's a good thing you have Nash."

  "Yeah, but I don't want to lose one of my closest friends because his idiot brother can't get his head out of his ass."

  "If I move, you know I'll come back and visit."

  Callie finishes her coffee and sets the cup down. "What about your mom?"

  "What about her?"

  "Isn't she going to be mad if you leave?"

  "I don't know if she'll even care. As long as I send her money she doesn't care where I live."

  "You're going to keep giving her money?" Callie chews on her lip, which means she wants to tell me to stop supporting my mom but is trying to hold back. She knows all about my mom. We talk about her more than we should, and Callie's probably sick of hearing about her, but sometimes I really need someone to talk to and Callie's a good listener.

  "Only if I have to," I say. "I'm worried about leaving her, not just because of the money issues but because I'm worried she won't take care of herself."

  "She's a grown woman," Callie says, sounding angry. "She can take care of herself."

  "You know how she is. She acts like a teenager. Most of the time I feel more like her mom than her daughter."

  "It's not your responsibility to take care of her or pay her bills. She could get a job. She just chooses not to."

  "Okay, new topic. This is depressing, and I'm not supposed to be depressed on spring break. I want to have fun this week."

  "Writing a paper and sending out resumes? That doesn't sound like fun. You need to go out and do something. I wish I didn't have class this week. Maybe you could do something with Ivy."

  "Yeah, I'll call her and see if she wants to go out."

  "Or..." Callie's sly grin reappears. "You could go out with Bryce. Go to the club? Make out under the stairwell again?"

  "Stop it," I say, swatting at her. But I'm smiling, because I'd love to repeat last night. It was one of the best nights I've ever had. Unfortunately, I know it'll never happen again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jen

  "Go out with us tonight," Callie says. "Austin really wants everyone to show up. They're playing some new songs."

  "I can't. I have to work."

  "You get off at nine. We'll pick you up at nine-thirty. Come on. It'll be fun.

  "I just..." I set my coffee down. "I don't think I'm ready to be around Bryce again."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's too awkward, after what we did."

  "You kissed. Big deal."

  I look at her. "Callie, you know it's a big deal. It's a huge deal, at least for Bryce and me. And I told you, we did more than kiss. His hands were..." I try to think of how to say this, "in places they haven't been before."

  "You can't put off seeing him forever. So just see him tonight and get it over with. Then you'll get past the awkwardness and move on. Besides, it'll be way less awkward with all of us there instead of it just being the two of you."

  "Are you kidding? It'll be even more awkward. You guys will be staring at us all night to see how we're acting."

  "Nope." She puts her hand up. "I promise, I won't even look at you guys. And I'll tell everyone else to do the same. We'll completely ignore you and Bryce."

  I laugh. "You're so full of crap."

  We talk some more, then she drops me off at my apartment. As expected, it's freezing cold so I turn the heat on. It's an old building and
the heater always makes whining and popping noises when you first turn it on, but today it's even louder than normal and instead of stopping after a few minutes, the noise continues.

  So much for snuggling up on the couch and taking a nap. Instead, I turn on my laptop and search for jobs. My advisor at school gave me a list of job openings, but I've been doing my own search as well. I'm hoping to get a job at a small company. Not too small, but a place that will let me actually do real accounting work and not grunt work like I'd be doing at a large corporation.

  After an hour of finding nothing worth applying for, I shut down my laptop and turn on the TV. It's so odd to be home like this. I'm always at class or at one of my three jobs or studying in the library. And my building is never this quiet. It's almost too quiet. I'm used to hearing music playing or loud people in the hall, but everyone took off for spring break.

  I find a movie to watch and grab a blanket off the back of the couch, trying to get warm because my apartment is still cold, but at least the heater has stopped making noise. After ten minutes, I'm still freezing so I get Bryce's coat and put it on. Then I turn the heat up even more.

  At two forty-five as I'm heading to work, I'm actually happy about going there. At least the restaurant will be warm. I don't know what the deal is with my apartment. Even after turning the heat up, it still feels like an icebox.

  "You're late," Jerry says as I walk out of the kitchen into the dining area. Jerry is the manager on the weekends. He's in his sixties, rail-thin, and he smokes constantly. He hates me, and anyone else under the age of 30. According to him, we're all 'spoiled slackers who don't deserve what we have' and therefore he thinks we deserve to be treated like shit.

  Almost everyone who works here is a college student, except for the managers, who are actually doing this for their career. Sometimes I think that's why Jerry hates us. He knows this job is only temporary for us, but he's stuck here forever, or until he quits or gets fired. I wish he'd get fired. I can't stand him. Not only is he a horrible manager, but he's also lazy. He's always out back smoking instead of working in the restaurant. If anyone's a slacker, it's him.

  "I'm not late," I say. "I was in the kitchen putting my apron on."

  "When your shift starts, you need to be out here taking orders, not getting dressed." He goes past me, purposely bumping my shoulder. "Next time, be on time or I'll dock your pay."

  He disappears into the kitchen, likely going on yet another smoke break.

  This job sucks but it's close to my apartment and the tips are good. We get a lot of old people in here because we serve diner food, like meatloaf and fried chicken, and we serve breakfast all day. Our customers are mostly retired professors and they tend to tip well, maybe because they know we're college students desperate for cash.

  It's just after three and the place is almost empty, but five of my tables are full. Jerry probably seated people there on purpose so I'd have to work hard as soon as I got here. I don't mind. More tables equals more tips.

  As the hours roll by, the place fills up, which makes the time go faster and keeps my mind off Bryce. Well, I'm still thinking about him, but not nearly as much as I was earlier. During my break, I texted him and told him I wasn't going out tonight. I'd like to, but it's too soon. We went way past the friend zone last night and Bryce and I need some time apart before we can go back to acting normal again.

  A little after eight, I'm in the kitchen getting an order and hear some commotion out front. It's probably drunk people. They tend to come in here on Saturday nights wanting pancakes. For some reason, drunk people love pancakes.

  Carrying my tray of food, I go back out to the restaurant but stop when I see my mom there, talking to Jerry, or more like yelling at him. She has her fake fur coat on and a skimpy black dress and the black, high-heeled boots her last boyfriend bought her. Her cheeks are red from the cold and match the lipstick smeared over mouth. She's wearing her fake eyelashes and one of them is falling off.

  "I need to see my daughter!" she yells at Jerry, her hands on her hips.

  "She's not allowed to have visitors while on the job," he says.

  I set the tray on the counter and rush over to my mom.

  "Mom, what are you doing here?" I hold her arm and try to move her aside but she stays firmly in place.

  "I'm trying to talk to you, but this idiot won't let me." She waves her hand at Jerry. From her slurred speech and over-the-top gestures, I can tell she's drunk.

  "Jerry, I'm really sorry," I say to him. "I just need a minute."

  "Get her out of here or you're fired," he says, just loud enough for me to hear.

  "Could you take my order to table five?"

  He mumbles something and walks off.

  "Mom." I pull on her arm and lead her to the back hallway where the bathrooms are located. "You can't show up here drunk. You're going to get me fired."

  "I had no place else to go. I was on a date and the asshole wouldn't take me home. We were at a bar a few blocks away so I had him drop me off here."

  "Why wouldn't he take you home?"

  She shrugs. "We weren't getting along." She flings her stringy blond hair behind her shoulder and I see a big black and blue mark along the side of her cheek.

  "He hit you?" I hold her hair back to get a better look at the bruise.

  "Sure did. Can you believe that? Told you he was an ass."

  "Mom, you should report him to the police."

  "It's not worth it. I'll never see him again."

  I hold her shoulders. "Are you okay? Did he hit you anywhere else?"

  "No, just whacked me across the face. After that, the bartender kicked us out." She falls forward, her arms going around me in a drunk hug. "At least you're here for me. Always here to help your mama. You're such a good girl. What would I do without you?" She pats my back. "Let's go home."

  "I have an hour left of my shift. I can't leave yet."

  "But I have to get home. I'm not feeling good and I need to get ice on this bruise."

  I sigh and gently push her off me. "Okay, just let me talk to Jerry. Can you wait here?"

  "I'm not waiting by the damn toilets." She turns and stalks back to the dining room and plops herself down in one of the empty booths.

  Jerry races over to me, pointing at my mom. "What is she still doing here? I told you to get rid of her."

  "She isn't feeling well. I need to take her home."

  "You got an hour left of your shift. You leave now, you're fired."

  "Then can she just sit there for an hour? I promise to keep her quiet."

  "She's drunk! We don't allow drunks in here."

  "Are you kidding me? We have drunks in here all the time." I point to the four guys at the corner table shoving pancakes in their mouths. "Those guys are all drunk."

  "They're paying customers. She's not!" He points to her again. "And if you're going to keep arguing with me about this, then get your stuff and leave and don't come back."

  Shit. I really need this job.

  "Okay, I'll take care of her. Just give me a minute." I hurry back down the hall by the restrooms and call Bryce. "Hey," I say when he answers. "Where are you?"

  "At home. Just got off work. I was cleaning up to go out. Why? Did you decide to come with us tonight?"

  "No. Listen, I've got a problem here at work. My mom showed up drunk and if I don't get her out of here I'm going to get fired."

  "What the hell's your mom doing there?"

  "She was on a date and it didn't go well. He hit her, Bryce." I feel my eyes tearing up, and one slips down my cheek. I may not always get along with my mom, but I can't stand seeing her hurt. "He hit her in the face. She has a big bruise on her cheek." I sniffle.

  "Shit. Okay, I'll come get her. I'm leaving right now. Will she be okay until I get there?"

  "I think so. I'll try to get some coffee in her so she sobers up." I go back down the hall and see her still sitting in the booth. "Thanks for doing this, Bryce. I owe you one."

 
"You don't owe me. Just try to relax. I'll be there soon."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  I return to the booth where my mom is sitting, looking at a menu.

  "Are we leaving?" she asks, her eyes on the menu.

  "No. Jerry won't let me leave, but Bryce is coming to pick you up. He's on his way."

  "Then if I'm stuck here waiting, I'll take a cheeseburger, no mayo." She sets the menu in the holder. "And a large fry with half salt. I don't like all that salt. Makes me bloated."

  "Um...yeah, okay," I say, then take off for the kitchen.

  As I'm writing down the order, Jerry comes out of the back office and storms up to me. "Did you get rid of her?"

  "Not yet. A friend is coming to pick her up. She's going to eat while she waits for him."

  "I told you I don't want a drunk in the restaurant."

  "I know, but now she's a paying customer, so you said that's okay, right?"

  He huffs, angry that I used his own words against him. "Fine, if it keeps her quiet. But you're not getting paid for tonight."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because you caused a disturbance. It's unprofessional. You should've been fired."

  "But I didn't—"

  "You want to get fired?" He points his long bony finger in my face.

  "No."

  "Then get out there and finish your shift. I'm doing you a favor, kid. Be grateful you still have a job."

  I drop off my mom's order with the cook, then return to my tables out front.

  "Jen!" my mom yells as I'm gathering up the dirty plates from table seven.

  I hurry over to my mom, carrying the stack of dirty dishes. "Mom, you can't yell at me across the restaurant. I'm already in trouble."

  "I was thinking we should go shopping tomorrow," she says, not even caring that she got me in trouble. And she doesn't seem drunk anymore. Maybe she never was. Was she just pretending? "Wouldn't that be fun? We haven't gone shopping together in months."

  "I can't go shopping," I tell her. "I don't have any money."

  "That's because you're working at this shitty diner. You need to get a better job."

  Says the person who doesn't have one.

  "Mom, I can't talk right now. I'm busy. Your order will be out soon."