Infuriating, page 12
Day’s expression was mutinous as he handed over his prized laptop and pointed at Webster. “You. I don’t like you.” He turned on his heel before stopping to glare at Jackson. “You, either.”
Jackson tried to bite back a smile as Day walked up the stairs, regal as a Queen, Kevin hot on his heels. Jackson’s roommate had clearly chosen a side, and it was not Jackson’s.
“So, that’s your type?” Webster asked when they were alone. “That twinky ball of rage?”
Jackson gave him a look. “I’m still your boss.”
“Then fire me, but you know you’ll never find anybody else willing to do the sketchy shit I do for you and your crew of misfits,” Webster said.
“And you’ll never find another boss willing to fund your little passion projects, so we’re even.”
Webster opened Day’s laptop and connected it to the small piece of hardware he’d pulled from his bag. His hands flew over the keyboard at warp speed, far faster than Jackson’s own hunt and peck typing.
“Seriously, are you violating your own rules? Weren’t you the one who said no more canoodling with the clients or we’re fired?” Webster asked, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“I’m the boss and he’s not paying,” Jackson said, already irritated with the direction of the conversation.
“So, the loophole is, you’re doing him pro bono?” Webster said, emphasizing the last word by wiggling his brows.
It was on the tip of Jackson’s tongue to say he wasn’t ‘doing’ him, but that would be a lie. Day had been done quite thoroughly by Jackson. At the hotel, on the flight home. Twice in the shower. Once on the back porch. Then, in the shower again. Day had even blown Jackson in the kitchen fifteen minutes before Webster had shown up. They hadn’t really been able to keep their hands to themselves for the last two days. So, he said nothing, instead choosing to glower at Webster. After all, it was his fault Day was mad.
Webster mirroring Day’s hard drive came after two days of frustrating dead ends where Day’s stalker was concerned. Whoever he was, he was either incredibly smart or terribly lucky. Either way, if Jackson found him, he was going to tear his arms off and beat him to death with them. He was caught up in a rather vivid fantasy when Webster cleared his throat.
“Uh, Jack.”
“What? Did you find something?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. Does Day have vision problems?”
Jackson frowned. “He wears glasses, but he doesn’t fall down the stairs without them. Why?”
“His computer is wired for software that’s most often used by people who are blind or, at least, legally blind. Voice to text software. Software that close-captions webpages.”
“I—” Jackson cut himself off, running through a series of memories rapid-fire. Day staring at the Elite contract for ten minutes. Day telling Chloe he didn’t read so well. Day asking Jackson to order for him at the restaurant. Day’s phone reading his emails to him out loud. Jesus. Was that what Day was trying to hide from him? Was Day losing his vision? He didn’t think that was it.
“Is it pertinent to the case?” Jackson snapped.
Webster’s gaze went wide. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Then mind your own business.”
Webster gave him a mock salute and went back to clacking away on his keyboard. Jackson looked up at Day’s closed door before heading up the stairs and knocking gently on it.
“Go away,” Day shouted from the other side.
Jackson pushed the door open to find Day lying across his bed staring up at the ceiling. He kicked the door closed behind him and sat at the head of the bed.
“Guess I should have known better than to expect any privacy. If I can’t have it on my laptop, why would I have it in my room?”
“Dayton,” Jackson said softly.
Dayton’s gaze darted to him, and he rolled up onto his forearm, frowning. “What? Did Webster find something on my computer? Is that person spying on me or something?”
“No, it’s not that. I need to ask you something.”
Day shook his head, hand flailing. “What? Why are you looking at me like you’re about to ask me for one of my kidneys? You’re freaking me out.”
“Webster asked if there was a reason that you have software on your computer that helps the blind better use their computers… Is there?” Jackson asked.
Dayton’s mouth formed a perfect O, and then he flushed from his throat to his hairline, the tips of his ears turning bright pink. He snapped his mouth shut and looked away, rolling off the other side of the bed to pace. “So, what? I’m just lazy. I like to have stuff read to me. It’s not a big deal.”
“Day…”
Day stopped dead in his tracks, his arms crossing protectively in front of his chest as he sneered at Jackson. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
Jackson frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. Like I’m some one-eyed homeless cat Sarah McLachlan wants you to fucking adopt. I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. I pay my bills. I buy my own groceries. I’ve been making my own way in life since I could tie my own shoes. Stop looking at me like I’m defective.”
Tears streaked down Day’s cheeks, but Jackson wasn’t sure Day even noticed. He was too mad. Too humiliated. Jackson had done that. Jackson had made him feel stupid and small and helpless. “I don’t think you’re defective.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” Day choked out around a sob.
“Day, stop. Please,” Jackson tried. “Just tell me what the problem is, and we can try to fix it.”
“I don’t need to be fixed, Jackson!” Day shouted, turning on his heel and going into the bathroom. Jackson heard the lock click, his heart breaking as he heard Day dissolve into tears on the other side of the door.
“I got what I need,” Webster called from downstairs. “I’ll show myself out.”
Jackson didn’t even bother to answer. When he heard the door click behind Webster, he went to the bathroom door and knocked. “Day, please… I didn’t mean you needed to be fixed. You’re perfect. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Go away,” Day said, voice thick with tears.
Jackson sighed. “I can’t do that. Not until we talk this out.”
Day sniffled. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”
“You’re obviously not fine. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you cry. Can I please come in?” Jackson asked. There was no answer. “Day?”
Jackson listened intently at the door, but all sounds had ceased from the other side. Suddenly, Jackson thought of Wyatt lying in the hospital bed, white as a sheet, after he’d almost bled out from when he was a cutter. What if Day was hurting himself?
“Day?”
Jackson took a step back and kicked the bathroom door with enough force to drive the hollow door off its hinges. Day sat in the empty bathtub, now staring at the remnants of the bathroom door and Jackson in shock.
“What in the actual fuck?” Day asked, dabbing at his eyes with a washcloth. “Did you hit your head or something? Can’t a guy get five seconds of privacy to have a meltdown in peace?”
Jackson felt his face grow hot. “I just thought… Never mind.”
Day sniffled once more, his eyes red-ringed and bloodshot, his nose running. “You just thought…what? I was drowning?”
“Nothing. It was stupid.”
“So, I have to bare my soul to you, but you can’t even tell me why you just pulled a shock and awe on my bathroom door?” Day said before blowing his nose loudly with the roll of toilet paper he’d taken into the bathtub with him.
“It was stupid. I thought… I thought maybe you were upset enough to hurt yourself.”
Day’s mouth fell open, but then he scoffed. “You thought I’d slit my wrists in the bathtub because you figured out I’m fucking stupid and can’t read? Please, if people thinking I’m stupid was all it took to make me off myself, I’d have never made it past the third grade. My grandmother called me stupid so much, I was convinced it was my given name.”
Jackson stepped over the shattered remnants of the door and stepped into the bathtub, grateful it was a soaking tub and not the standard one in his Miami apartment. He picked Day’s legs up so he could sit, then refused to let them go, half thinking Day might run again. “I don’t think you’re fucking stupid. Don’t say that. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”
Day snorted. “Look, I know we’re sleeping together, but you don’t have to give me empty compliments.”
Jackson’s nostrils flared, and he ground his teeth until the muscle in his jaw popped. “Just stop, okay? Stop acting like I’m the kind of person who would give you fake compliments because I want to keep sleeping with you. That’s not who I am. It’s like you just said. You pay your own bills. You’ve found a way to get around not being able to read. Jesus, Day. You speak four fucking languages…”
“Five,” Day said, wiping his nose with his forearm. “Six if you count American sign language.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re…” Jackson floundered for the word. “You’re incredible.”
Day looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, but it suddenly broke through, a high-pitched almost hysterical giggle. “Incredible? Wow. You really do love this ass, huh?” Day said.
“You’re such a brat,” Jackson snarled, but there wasn’t any heat behind it because Day pitched himself headfirst into Jackson’s arms, hugging his neck and kissing his mouth.
Jackson gathered him in his arms until they were both sat fully clothed, Day between Jackson’s thighs, his arms around him. Day tipped his head as Jackson kissed his way down Day’s throat, giving him more access. “I’m really not worth all this effort, Jackson. I don’t say this because I feel sorry for myself, I say it because it’s true. There are too many things about me you don’t know. I know you think my illiteracy is something that can be fixed, but it can’t. I’m not just dyslexic. I have a sensory processing disorder that just doesn’t allow the pieces to line up for me. I had a speech impediment and a stutter, too, but those are things I outgrew. My dyslexia, combined with whatever other problems I have…up here…” He tapped his temple. “That’s never going to go away. I’m never going to be able to sit down and read a book or write anything that doesn’t look like a preschooler wrote it. That’s just how it is.”
Jackson didn’t necessarily believe that was true, but Day clearly did, and, for right now, Jackson had to accept that. “I don’t care if you can’t read. I don’t care if you ever learn to read. You’ve clearly figured out a system that works for you. I just want you to let me in.”
Day rested his head against Jackson’s shoulder. “The optimist in you is going to leave us both broken if you don’t learn to listen to me. Run now, Jackson, before it’s too late.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Jackson looked at his watch. “Actually, that’s not true. It’s Sunday. So we’re both expected at my mother’s house…for dinner. In two hours.”
“I can’t believe you just decided to spring this whole dinner with your family thing on me at the last minute.”
“I wasn’t trying to spring it on you last minute. If I’m in town, I do Sunday dinners with my family. I can’t leave you alone with some crazy stalker looking for you here in LA. Also, I’d rather keep you close after what happened between us earlier.”
Day shook his head. “No. I’m not going. I’m not meeting your family. This is too much. It was bad enough meeting your sister—who hated me, by the way. Now, you want to parade me around to your whole family? Why? I keep telling you this thing between us is temporary, and you just keep acting like we’ve been dating for a year instead of fucking each other for a week.”
Jackson looked at Day like he was crazy. He was crazy. He was acting crazy, but he couldn’t stop himself. Ever since Jackson figured out his secret, he’d felt like he was trapped outside with a tornado bearing down on him. Having to sit with Jackson’s family while Jackson’s mother asked him a million questions and his sisters watched made Day sick to his stomach.
Day had just wanted the fantasy for a few more days. Was that too much to ask? A few days to pretend he was a normal guy without a warehouse full of baggage. A few days to pretend there was a world where he and Jackson fit together, but it just wasn’t true. But then Jackson had gone and ruined everything because he just didn’t see Day for what he really was: a lost fucking cause. Why couldn’t Jackson see that? Day needed to make him see that.
“Day…”
“No. It’s fine. We’ll go. As long as you know this is going to be a disaster, right?”
Day turned on his heel and marched up the stairs. As soon as he closed the door, he leaned against it and took a few deep breaths, grimacing as he noticed the remains of his bathroom door. Jackson had literally kicked down a door because he’d thought Day might be hurt. Who did that? Jackson. Only Jackson. He was a goddamned superhero. Too bad Day wasn’t leading lady material.
It was time Jackson saw who Day really was. He found his tightest pair of jeans, donned his bubblegum pink crop top and a full face of makeup, leaving his hair wild and just a little unkempt, like he’d spent a day at the beach…or rolling around in bed with Jackson.
Jackson met him downstairs, looking Day up and down. “You look beautiful, but you didn’t have to get dressed up for my family.”
Day looked at Jackson’s two hundred dollar jeans and his D&G white t-shirt and arched a brow. “You look pretty fancy to me.”
Jackson shook his head. “I’m not the one wearing enough holographic highlighter to be seen from space,” Jackson said with a chuckle. “But I see your point.”
The drive to Jackson’s mother’s house passed in silence, Jackson playing the audiobook they’d started the day he’d brought Day home. His mother didn’t live far, just outside the city in a quiet subdivision, but everything in LA took at least an hour to get to.
Jackson pulled up to a modest craftsman style home with a trellis over the walkway. The exterior was painted a buttery yellow with a pale blue door and white trim. Flowers bloomed all around the steps and the railing of the porch. Jackson’s mother clearly loved her home.
The overwhelming scent of night blooming jasmine hit Day like a fist, his stomach swooping like he was on a roller coaster and plunging to the bottom. He wasn’t sure he could go through with his plan. As much as he hated to admit it, he desperately wanted to be somebody Jackson’s mother would approve of, to be somebody who could be part of a real family. But that wasn’t ever going to happen. It was better Jackson saw that now. There was no world where Day would ever fit into his life or his family.
Jackson walked around and opened Day’s door. He couldn’t help but notice the two late model luxury SUVs and a four-door Mercedes crossover. Were all the Avery children successful, or was Jackson just generous with his money? Day suspected it was probably both.
Jackson didn’t knock, just opened the door and called out, “Hello.”
A series of high-pitched screams erupted in response to Jackson’s greeting, and then six children came running from the back room, surrounding Jackson and Day, all of them talking over themselves to get Jackson’s attention. All but Chloe. Chloe approached Day with her finger in her mouth. She beckoned him with a wave of her little arm, her big brown eyes wide, like she thought he might refuse. When Day leaned down, she whispered, “Do you like my dress?” She twirled, her fluffy skirt flying up around her.
“It’s beautiful. You look just like a princess.”
“Where’s my boy?” a voice boomed over the noise of the children. A heavyset woman with warm chestnut skin and long wavy black hair approached wearing a pair of perfectly tailored slacks and a butternut yellow sweater set. She used a cane when she walked, but she moved at a pretty good clip, cutting through the children like a knife through warm butter.
“Hey, Mama,” Jackson called, meeting her halfway to lean down and kiss her cheek. “You haven’t been standing up while you were cooking, have you? Dr. Schneider said you need to be careful until your surgery.”
She scoffed, waving a hand at him. “What am I supposed to do, wait for one of the girls to cook a meal? Those girls are smart but not one of them can so much as boil water.” She turned and narrowed her eyes at Day. The children abandoned Jackson, running back to the back room now that all the excitement was over. All except Chloe, who grabbed Day’s hand with her own, the fingers from her other hand still stuffed in her mouth. Jackson’s mother stepped closer. “You must be Day. My granddaughter had a lot to say about you. My daughter, Ruby, too. I tend to trust Chloe over Ruby, though. She gives people too much credit.”
Day had no idea what to say to that, but luckily—or not—two more people emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen. Ruby and another woman Day had never seen. She was clearly one of Jackson’s sisters. She looked almost identical to Ruby, though she had a more curvaceous figure and her mother’s shrewd look in her eye.
“Mama, leave that boy alone. Can’t you see he’s scared?” the woman said, holding out her hand to Day. “I’m Della. I’m the nice one.”
The other three adults scoffed at her statement, but then Jackson’s mother was waving them into the dining room. “Come in, come in. I’m Beverly, but everybody calls me Bev or Mama. I answer to both. Dinner’s ready. We just been waiting on you.”
Chloe let go of Day’s hand and ran off to join the other children. Day had to fight the urge to run after her. He didn’t want to be left alone with the grown ups. Apparently, the kids were eating chicken nuggets and mac and cheese in the back room by the television. That sounded alright to Day.
Day had hoped to shock Jackson’s family with his clothing or makeup, but he was disappointed to see none of them so much as gave it a second glance. Was everybody in Jackson’s family just that liberal? It seemed hard to believe, but then Day had spent his early childhood in Idaho. Maybe people who were born and raised in LA were used to people dressing more…flamboyantly.
