Yes & I Love You (Say Everything #1) - Roni Loren Page 0,33
can’t stay,” he repeated. “You’re being serious?”
She nodded, expression grim but determined. She used to wear the same expression when they were teens and she’d refuse to cover for him with the Deareses when he’d done something to break the rules.
His heart picked up speed, some old, etched-in reaction to being told he can’t stay somewhere firing up all his oh shit systems. Sorry, Jasper this placement just isn’t working out. Sorry, Jasper, but your parents refused rehabilitation, so you won’t be going home. “Why? I mean, I know it’s a pain having me here, but I’m really not going to be here much with two jobs, and don’t think I’m taking your place for granted but—”
“I’m moving in with Timothy,” she said, cutting him off. “I already put in my notice here, and the owners have another renter ready to go.”
Jasper sagged back against the counter, the news knocking him backward. “Moving in? I didn’t even realize you guys were that serious.”
“Because you haven’t been here. We’ve been dating for over a year. I was already planning this move before you called from California and said you needed to come home. I pushed back the date and asked Timothy to be patient, but I can’t delay it anymore.” She sighed and held her hands out to her side. “And I shouldn’t have to. You’re twenty-five and—”
“I should have a steady job and insurance and all that important adult stuff,” he said in a mocking, formal voice.
“Don’t,” she warned, fire coming into her eyes. “Don’t act like I’m being a bitch about this. I know you love improv and you’re good at it, but you’ve tried to make a career out of it and it hasn’t worked. College didn’t work out. Acting hasn’t worked out. It’s time to make other plans—real plans. Practical ones.”
He grimaced.
“Practical isn’t a dirty word, Jasper. I know you think I’m the boring one with all my ten-year plans and spreadsheets, but look where it’s gotten me. Steady job. Steady relationship. Money to pay my bills.”
Jasper glowered at her. What did she want from him? A sheet of gold stars? The Good Responsible Person medal? He managed to keep his mouth shut because whatever was going to come out wasn’t going to be nice.
“You don’t want to look up in your thirties and realize you’re still making lattes and don’t have a penny in the bank. You’re not always going to be able to get by on a wink and a joke,” she said, bracing her hands on the island and pinning him with a pointed look. “Do the improv for fun, for a hobby, but start looking for a real job. It’s time. You’re too old to be crashing at your sister’s house and riding on your parents’ insurance.”
Jasper’s jaw was clenched so hard he worried for his teeth.
She crossed her arms in challenge, like she knew he was about to explode and go toe to toe with her. “Mom and Dad would tell you the same thing if they weren’t afraid of hurting your feelings.”
Her flaming spear landed solid. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice, a warning. “Don’t bring Mom and Dad into this. They have never been anything but one hundred percent supportive of what I wanted to do.”
“Supportive because they love you, but that doesn’t mean they agree with the path you’ve chosen. They worry about you all the time,” she said, a pained note in her voice. “They think they failed you in some way.”
His stomach dropped and his surgery scar twinged, the words deflating him like a pin to a balloon. “What?”
“Think about it, Jas. Their job was to take you in and prepare you for life but”—she put her arms out to her sides—“you’re still living like you’re eighteen. You’ve failed to launch. They think it’s something they did.”
Her voice was quiet, but the blow was harsher than anything else she’d said. He looked down, gripping the back of his neck. The thought that he had disappointed the Deareses made him sick to his stomach. The best day of his life was the day they told him they wanted to adopt him, not to let him stay until he aged out of foster care, but to make him an official part of their family, give him their name. The very last thing in the world he wanted to do was let them down.
“Fuck.” The curse was a whisper, and most of the fight drained out of him.