Chapter Two

Isabella POV 

“So much for loving it at Westside Eden,” I muttered to myself as I sauntered in, closing the door behind me. Everything was exactly how I’d left it, only that my father was now sitting on the couch, his hazy eyes on me. 

“I’m so sorry, Isabella. If I’d known you were coming in today…”

“You would have pretended to not be a sorry drunk ass of a man? How long would you have been able to keep that up for?”

“Bels…”

"You can't call me that anymore!" I snapped. "You lost the privilege the minute you walked out on Mom and me."

“Baby, you don’t understand. Back then, I was …”

“Another round of your excuses, right? I’m going to call Mom and tell her to come get me tomorrow. Staying all year alone in that huge house is better than being here with your drunk ass.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, covering his face with one hand. Great. He should be ashamed of himself. I won’t allow myself to feel sorry for him. I won’t.

So why did I feel an overwhelming sympathy wash over me?

“Where is my room?” I asked without as much bite. 

“Upstairs,” he replied, not looking at me. “It’s the one on your left. I don’t know if you remember it because it’s been a while since you were last here…”

“I’ll find it alright.”

I got to the room in a couple of seconds, pulling my suitcase all the way. Everything was still the same; the ballerina posters on the wall, the sparkles… those were the days I wanted to be a ballet dancer so bad. That dream died when Jacob walked out the door. 

I didn't bother unpacking my suitcase. I couldn't even lie on the bed. It was bare, and I had no idea where to find the sheets. So I just went into the bathroom to have a warm bath. 

I was disappointed again. No power and no hot water. There was no way I could stay here another minute. 

Leaning against the wall of the bathroom, I called my mom.

“Hey, baby,” she gushed the minute she picked up. “Got there safe, right? How’s Jacob doing?”

“Mom…” Tears stung the corners of my eyes. My shaky voice was enough for her to stop.

"What is it, baby?" she breathed. "Don't tell me you and your father got into a fight this early?"

“He was too drunk to even get into a fight with.” I let a single tear slip down my face. I could cry about my father, but I would never let him see it. “He was passed out on the floor, Mom, and he got his ex-girlfriend’s son taking care of him.”

"Oh, Jacob!" She sighed. 

"This was a mistake, Mom. I don't want to be here. I don't mind you and your boyfriend being away all year. I'll stay alone in the house. This place…"

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll probably not go with him.”

“No, Mom. He needs you.”

“And you need me to,” she replied, just like she always did. My mom never failed to choose me over and above everything. It was the reason I felt bad that I’d called. I knew she was going to throw it all away for me, even her one shot at happiness since Dad walked out on us. 

"Never mind, Mom," I whispered. "I can stay here. I'll just be out of Jacob's way and…"

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m flying in tomorrow to get you. You deserve better than a drunk father.”

"Honey…" someone called her in the background. Her boyfriend, maybe. Jonas. 

"I have to go, baby," she murmured. "But I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you."

“I love you too, Mom.”

When I walked out of the bathroom, I met Jacob leaning by the doorframe. He looked better, changed out of his rumpled clothes into something more appropriate. A black tee and matching slacks. In that moment, I could see what my mother fell for.

My father was good-looking. 

"I don't want to talk to you, Jacob," I muttered, walking to my suitcase to fuss with the handle since I had nothing else to do. I still couldn't lie on the bed. I needed to find a solution to that. 

“Then will you talk to me instead?”

My head whipped around instantly. Perhaps it was his voice, the way the words poured out with the least care and reverence, yet, for some reason, sounded important. 

He was standing behind Jacob, yet I could see every inch of him. He was taller, more muscular, more formidable. More everything. He had wavy brown hair that looked like he just rolled out of bed, yet it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

He had glasses on, a thin gold-rimmed pair. Did all nerds look that way? His hair fell into his eyes each time he moved, and I, strangely, found it hard to swallow. 

Suddenly, I was aware that I was still in the rumpled joggers that I'd worn during my flight, and my hair was still in my messy bun. Fuck dad and his lack of light and water. 

He came into view for a second, angling his head to take a look at me before withdrawing his gaze with zero interest. I hated the way my stomach dropped. 

“What is….” I whispered, strangely unable to find my voice.

"This is, umm….” Jacob swallowed. “Marv’s older brother. He’s here to get you for the game.”

"What game?" My voice came out squeaky. God, it couldn't get any worse than that. 

“Marv plays football with the Westside Eden’s team… high school. He wanted to come get you himself, but he had to warm up with the team. So he sent his brother instead.”

I remembered what Marv said earlier. He said Westside Lake was fun. Maybe this was him trying to show me reasons why I needed to stay. Maybe if I liked it enough, Mom didn’t have to throw her shot at happiness for me. 

“I’ll change and erm… meet you downstairs.”

The nerd still hadn’t said anything. He just turned around an

d walked down the stairs, like I wasn’t there.