Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel (24 page)

"And you don't want to?"

"I do. I've just never worked on the sales side before. That's Jake's thing. Not mine. I tend to turn people off."

"Bryce, that's not true."

"Yeah it is. Once people get to know me, they're fine, but I don't make a good first impression. People are scared off by the tats."

"Then they need to get over it. And maybe if you weren't..."

"Maybe I weren't what?"

"It's just that sometimes I think maybe you bring some of that on yourself."

"Bring
what
on myself?"

I feel nervous just bringing this up. I don't want Bryce getting defensive and this turning into an argument. "Just forget it."

"Jen, just tell me."

"You'll get mad if I do."

"I won't get mad."

"You promise?"

He smiles. "No, but go ahead."

"I'm not telling you unless you promise to not get all defensive. I'm only saying this to help, not criticize you. You know how much I care about you and how much I want you to do well."

"Yeah. So go ahead." When I don't respond he says, "I promise I won't get mad. Now just hurry up and say it."

"I was just going to say that I think sometimes you use your tattoos as an excuse when you're afraid to do something."

He clenches the steering wheel. "Like what?"

"See? You're mad. I'm not telling you anything else."

"I'm not mad. I just don't agree with what you're saying. And what does this have to do with making sales calls?"

"You said you think your tattoos turn people off, and maybe that's true for some people, but like you said, they get over it once they meet you. You told me Mrs. Peterson is old. If an old lady can look past your tattoos, then anyone can. But I think you keep telling yourself they can't so that you don't have to try doing stuff you're afraid to do. Like go on sales calls." He doesn't say anything so I continue. "Jake isn't any better than you, Bryce. You could get new business just as well as he could. But you don't have enough confidence in yourself to go out and do it."

"What the hell? I have confidence." He sounds angry, then sighs. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"You have confidence when it comes to things you're good at, like fixing cars and doing construction. But when it comes to things you're unsure of, you avoid doing them, and you use your tattoos to explain why it's not worth even trying."

"People judge me because of how I look. So yeah, the tattoos ARE a reason why I avoid certain things. I'm not using them as an excuse. It's just a fact. Like today, there was a cop outside your apartment and he looked at me like I'd just gotten out of prison. He kept his eyes on me the whole time I was fixing your car, like I was trying to steal it."

"Maybe he was just watching you because he was bored."

"No." I let out a harsh laugh. "That wasn't it. He was making judgments about me because of how I look."

"Then why'd you get all those tattoos?"

"Because I wanted them. I like them. And they're the only piece of you I—" He clears his throat and grips the steering wheel tighter. "Damn, these roads are slick." He slows down as we approach a stoplight.

Why wouldn't he just finish his thought? He got the tattoos because I designed them. Because they're a permanent mark on his body, a connection to me that he'll always have. That means something. It shows how strong his feelings are for me. So why won't he just freaking tell me?

We're both quiet for the remainder of the ride back to his apartment. The parking lot is slick so he holds my hand and helps me to the door, but neither of us says anything. I'm annoyed with him for not telling me how he feels and he's annoyed with me for pointing out something about him that he knows is true but won't admit.

Bryce lives in a state of denial. Denial about his potential. His strengths. His weaknesses. And me.

We're quiet on the way up the elevator, and when we get in his apartment, he drops his coat on the chair and says, "I'm going to go call those referrals. My dad wanted me to do it today."

"Okay." I hang my coat up in the closet while he goes in the bedroom to make the calls.

I take my laptop from the counter and go sit on the couch and start searching for jobs. I really need to get serious about this and start applying for positions. Up until now, I've mostly just been doing searches. I applied for a few jobs, but they all required experience so I knew I wouldn't get a call back. But with graduation just two months away, I need to apply for jobs I might actually get, or find a paid internship that could lead to a job.

An hour later, Bryce is still in his room with the door closed. There's no way he's been on the phone the whole time, so what is he doing in there? He better not be hiding from me. He said he wouldn't get mad but now he won't talk to me.

My phone rings and I pick it up. It's Ivy. "Hey, what's up?"

"Have you seen all the snow?"

I look out the window and see the big white flakes. "Yeah, it's really coming down."

"Jake and I left work early. We just got home. I was calling to let you know the roads are really slick, so stay home if you can."

"Yeah, I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

"What about Bryce?"

"He's here. He's in his room."'

"In his room? Doing what?"

"Making phone calls. I'm on my laptop searching for jobs."

"So what are you and Bryce doing this week? Jake said Bryce has the week off."

"I don't know what we're doing." Maybe nothing if he keeps giving me the silent treatment. I hope this doesn't continue or it's going to be a very long week.

"I was hoping we could go out sometime this week but I really need to work on that carving for that lawyer guy."

In addition to being a carpenter, Ivy carves pictures into slabs of wood. She's so good at it that some lawyer commissioned her to do a picture of his lake house in Wisconsin.

"That's okay," I tell her. "We'll go out later when you have time."

"Jen, my sister's calling. I have to make sure she got home all right."

"Yeah, go ahead and answer it. We'll just talk tomorrow."

"Okay, bye."

It's now after two and Bryce is still in his room so I continue my job search. There's a job in upstate New York I'd quality for but I don't really want to move to New York. I'd like to stay in the Midwest, if possible. There are entry-level accounting jobs here in Chicago but it's nearly impossible to get one because there's so much competition from all the colleges in the area. And a lot of the other applicants have internship experience, which puts them ahead of me. Working at the restaurant, bookstore, and library shows I'm a hard worker but doesn't win me any points if a hiring manager is looking for someone with accounting experience.

Maybe I should apply for the job in New York, just to see what happens. I also bookmarked a job in Florida and one in California. I should apply for them too.

"How's it going?" Bryce says from behind me. His tone is back to normal, not the angry tone he had earlier.

"Fine. Did you make your calls?"

"Yeah." He comes around the couch and sits down a few feet away from me. "The one lady wasn't home, but I talked to the other two."

My eyes remain on my laptop. I still feel mad at Bryce. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm searching for jobs in places I don't want to be because nothing is keeping me here in Chicago. Because stupid Bryce won't ask me to stay, or even just suggest that I do. Ever since I started searching for jobs, he's been encouraging me to leave Chicago, telling me if I don't leave now I never will, not even considering that I might want to stay.

"You were in there a long time," I say. "Did they have a lot of questions?"

"Not really, but I spent a lot of time explaining our process and telling them about some of the other jobs we've done."

"So you think they'll hire you?"

"I'm pretty sure they will. But they need to see an estimate before they decide."

"Are you doing the estimate?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Bryce hates working with numbers, and an estimate will involve lots of numbers. I'm surprised he agreed to do it, but I'm glad he did. He needs to challenge himself so he'll stop thinking he's not smart enough.

Before I can answer him, he says, "You think I can't do it?"

"I
know
you can do it. I just didn't think you'd want to."

"Might as well give it a try. Besides, I can't use my tats as an excuse for why I can't do an estimate." He smiles.

I smile back. "No. You can't."

"Jen." He pauses, and his eyes shift down to the floor. "I'm sorry if I was being an ass earlier. I just don't like being told shit about myself."

"I know you don't. Nobody does. And maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I only did because I don't want you holding back and not doing things because you don't think you're good enough or smart enough."

"You know academics aren't my thing. My brain's just not built that way."

"Maybe not for things like algebra, but that doesn't mean anything. You're smart in other ways, like the way you can just figure stuff out on your own. Like how to rebuild an engine. I could never do that. Most people couldn't. That's why I get so frustrated when you act like you're not smart. Because you are, Bryce. You just won't let yourself believe it."

He ignores the comment and points to my laptop. "So how's the job search coming?"

"Not great. So far, I've found jobs in New York, Florida, and California."

I notice his body tense up. "Oh, yeah? So you're applying for them?"

"Might as well, but I'm sure I won't get them."

"Now who's the one without confidence?"

"Yeah, I know. Guess I should work on that. It's just that so many of my classmates have had internships at companies and I haven't. Managers don't want to hire someone with no experience."

"So get an internship."

"It's too late. They start when the semester starts or they go through the summer."

"Then do one this summer, and then find a job."

"You mean stay in Chicago?"

He hesitates. "It doesn't have to be Chicago."

"I don't want to move and then have to move again when I get a full-time job."

He shrugs. "It was just a suggestion."

"It's not a bad idea. I'll talk to my advisor about it."

Did Bryce suggest the internship so that I wouldn't be leaving in two months? Or was he just making a comment? I wish he'd just come out and tell me what he thinks I should do. I'm not saying I'd do what he says, but he's my best friend and I trust his opinion more than anyone else's.

My phone rings and Bryce picks it up. "It's your mom. You want to talk to her?"

"Yeah." I set my laptop down and take the phone from him. "Hi, Mom."

"Where are you?"

"At Bryce's."

"You're staying with him?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I thought you were staying at Mitch's house."

"He doesn't have room. Bryce's aunt and cousins are there for the week."

"You shouldn't be staying there. Come home and stay with your mama."

"Mom, I can't. You know the smoke bothers me."

"Mitch smokes, and you stay at
his
house."

"He doesn't smoke in the house."

"Just come home. We'll open a window."

"It's freezing out. We can't open a window. I'm just going to stay here."

"Because you like Bryce better than me?"

"No. Mom, you—"

"You don't want to spend time with me." She coughs. "I'm not a well woman, Jen. I'm not going to live long."

"You just turned 40. You're not going to die anytime soon."

Bryce nudges me and mouths the words 'hang up'. He knows my mom's giving me the guilt trip. She always does this when she doesn't get what she wants.

"Mom, I have to go."

"But you're coming over tomorrow, right? With my groceries?"

I look at Bryce. "Um, yeah. Probably in the afternoon."

"Get me a carton of cigarettes while you're there."

"I'm not getting you those. They cost too much. I don't have the money."

"Then borrow it from Bryce. He has money."

"I'm not taking his money. I'll get you the other stuff on the list but you'll have to get your own cigarettes. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Call before you come over. Mark might stop over and...well, your mama might be gettin' busy." She laughs.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I'll call first. Bye."

I set the phone down, then close my eyes and take a deep breath. It's what I do to calm down, but it's not working right now because I'm so annoyed with my mom. She didn't call to see how I was, to make sure I was safe and warm and not stuck somewhere in the storm. She only called to see if I'd buy her cigarettes.

I take another deep, calming breath, but again, it doesn't work. Then I feel Bryce's arm around my shoulder, his hand rubbing my arm. And that's what makes me start to relax.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Bryce

Why the hell was Rita calling? Can't she give Jen just one day of peace? Jen's trying to relax this week but her mom just won't let her. She has to call and harass her and try to guilt her into buying her cigarettes.

Now Jen's doing that deep breathing she always does to de-stress, but it's not working. Her foot is tapping, her face is tight, and her hands are fidgety.

"Jen. Don't let her get to you." I know it's easier said than done, but Jen has got to learn to stop letting her mom have this effect on her.

"I don't know why she has to be like this. Why can't she just be a mother instead of making me do it? It's like I have a 40-year-old child who can't take care of herself."

I turn so I'm facing her. "Rita can take care of herself. But she won't if you keep doing it for her."

"Bryce, I don't have a choice. When I leave her alone, she goes downhill. She drinks more. She smokes more. She stops eating. Did you see how thin she is?"

"Your mom is skinny because she wants to be. She thinks it helps her get guys. It's not because she doesn't have food."

"You don't know that. She could be not eating because she's depressed. Or maybe she's sick. Maybe she has lung cancer. She was coughing—"