I opened my mouth to interrupt.
“Or a piece of shit failure,” he said, making air quotes with one hand. “So why are you really here?”
Just like that, he’d moved past the whole Rowen-Sterling-Is-A-Waste-Of-Space topic. Apparently it was settled in his mind I was not the person my mom, ninety-nine percent of other people I’d come in contact with, and myself, as of late, thought I was. The only thing that mattered to him was why I was there.
“Because I don’t have any other option,” I whispered, looking away from him at last. Our conversation in the laundry room had gone about five levels too personal for my taste.
“Bullshit,” he said instantly.
That brought my attention right back to him. “Excuse me?”
“That’s not the reason you’re here,” he stated. “You don’t have any other options? Please.” He made a face and shook his head once. “Ever heard of a little thing called financial aid? How about a summer job waiting tables at one of those big city coffee shops? Oh yeah, and let’s not forget about scholarships.”
I didn’t like what he was getting at. I liked even less the way it made me rethink a bunch of things. Narrowing my eyes, I met his. “I. Didn’t. Have. Another. Option.”
“Bull. Shit.” Apparently, that was Jesse’s new favorite word. Appropriate given he spent the majority of his days up to his knees in it. “You’ve got as many options as the rest of us. You’re just choosing to ignore them for some reason.”
I’d had enough. Enough laundry room, enough Jesse, enough crippling conversation. “You’re right,” I seethed. “There is ‘some reason’ I’m here. Good for you for figuring it out. Discovery of the decade.” I clapped at him. “What other scintillating tidbits do you have for us?”
Again, Jesse’s expression didn’t change. Nothing I said or did seemed to unnerve him. “Just one more thing,” he began, looking so hard into my eyes I half expected his stare to go right through me. “The reason you’re pushing me away, and the reason you’ve probably pushed everyone else away, is also the reason you’re here.” Stepping into me, Jesse’s eyes dropped with what I guessed was sadness. “You think you deserve this. You think you deserve to be alone and suffer. You’ve convinced yourself you’re so worthless that you’ve gone to the extreme to punish yourself. You think you deserve a life of misery.”
Yeah, I was going to cry. Big, ugly tears I really didn’t want him to witness. Instead of letting myself open up that way, I did what I did best. Stepping away from him, I lowered my eyes. “Get out,” I said, my voice shaking. “And leave me alone.”
Jesse sighed, then followed the first part of my directions. After the laundry room door closed behind him, I almost got down on my hands and knees to pray to whoever and whatever that he wouldn’t follow the last part of my directions.
Chapter Four
If a brain could shrivel up and die from too much contemplation, mine was dangerously close to living out the rest of its days as a pruney, gray raisin. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Jesse dropped that bomb on me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. How had a teenage guy figured out what I worked hard to ignore? All in the span of a couple of conversations?
I came up empty in the answer department. What was almost as frustrating as having no answers was worrying about what those answers might be. Was I just that transparent? Had everything I’d done to build the eighteen-year-old girl equivalent of the Berlin Wall been nothing more than a house of cards? Was Jesse Walker the most perceptive human being to have ever walked the face of the earth? Was he psychic?
I felt a migraine forming when the door to the laundry room opened a while later.
“Oh, honey. Have you been in here the whole time?” Rose asked, inspecting the room. Her eyes widened. “When I assigned you laundry room duty, I didn’t expect you to clean the actual room top to bottom.”
I dumped the bucket of soapy water into the sink and shrugged. “I finished up with the laundry a couple of hours ago,” I guessed. The concept of time had escaped me after Jesse left. “Sorry. I still had some energy, so I figured I’d keep going.”
Rose chuckled. “I doubt this room has been this clean since the day it was built a hundred years ago.”
I slid the bucket back beneath the sink, finally feeling tired. It had taken about thirty loads of laundry, a hardcore cleaning of an entire room, and a loaded conversation with Jesse, but exhaustion finally creeped into my veins.
“Don’t tell my mom I know how to clean. It’ll ruin her whole world outlook.”
Rose took a few steps inside the room, looking around it like she didn’t recognize it. “Speaking of your mom . . .” Nothing good could come of that opening line. “I just got off the phone with her. I guess she hasn’t heard back from you since you got in yesterday, and she was worried.”
That’s because I hit “ignore” every time one of her calls came in. “I doubt that was worry, Rose. It was probably irritation. Or annoyance. Or something more along the Rowen-is-hopeless line.”
Rose stopped in front of the island and leaned her hip into it the way Jesse had. In fact, I saw a lot of Jesse’s mannerisms in Rose. Like mother, like son. “No, it was worry. Concern. After thirty years of knowing your mom, at least give me a little credit that I’ve almost got her figured out. Your mom might act a certain way and say certain things, but she keeps her intentions hidden between the lines.” Rose paused and looked at me pointedly. “Sound like anyone else you know?”