A/N: sorry if you thought this would help
***
When I opened my bedroom door to admit Jameson Miller, I knew that my mother was a vicious traitor.
I didn't blame her exactly; Jamie was excellent at weaselling his way into anything with the mere force of his words and his smile. But Jameson's charm was far less endearing when it was used against me. And despite my clear instructions that I was too busy wallowing to descend into chit-chat, Jamie was standing in my doorway, wearing a beseeching expression and looking so pitying that I wanted to throw something at his face.
Cora was telling the truth then. All of our friends really did know. And maybe my desire to throw something at Jamie was really proxy violence for how much I wanted to hit Kai.
"Hi, Valerie," said Jameson cautiously. He held his hands slightly ahead of him, as if I were a feral dog on the verge of a breakdown.
The latter was vaguely true. I'd left school after first period, walking home with a theoretical cloud drooping over my head, occasionally shooting lightning that frazzled my nerves. I'd stormed past Mum in the living room, writing one of her saucy romance books, and told her that I was, respectfully, in no mood to talk. She was surprisingly okay with this. She even baked me a cake, which was nice, because I could fantasize about smashing Kai's face into it.
"Mother, you bitch!" I called downstairs. "What happened to allowing two to four business days where I can be pathetic and listen to sad Taylor Swift music before you allow any visitors?"
"He's such a nice boy, Valerie!" she yelled back. "He says so many pretty words, I had no defence!"
I made a sound of protest in the back of my throat, but at least Jameson just looked self-satisfied and arrogant now, revelling in the compliments bestowed by my mother. I'd take insufferable Jamie over sympathetic Jamie without question. I reluctantly shifted my door open, silently admitting Jameson into my sad cave.
I wasn't one for wallowing, so my room remained clean and bright, curtains drawn back and clothes neatly folded in the cupboard. It was, perhaps, the cleanest my room had ever been; I was messy by nature, but I enjoyed rage-cleaning. I refused to cry, so my mascara was still neatly applied, and I'd even done all my homework. The only accession to my current state of mourning was my all-black outfit; I didn't even like to wear black.
"How are you doing?" Jameson asked, casting an observer's glance over my seemingly put-together composure.
"Kai won't talk to me," I told Jamie, folding my hands across my chest.
Jameson didn't ask before situating himself cross-legged in the centre of my bed, patting the spot beside him in invitation. "He's an idiot."
"Yes, I know that. I just don't know why he won't talk to me. Or what the fuck is going on. He's acting like a child and I'm really confused. Do you know anything?"
Jamie shrugged. "All Kai told us last night was that you guys had concocted a scheme to get back at Clinton and Lewinski, and that we should look after you. He didn't say why he isn't talking to you."
What. Is. Going. On. I wanted to tear my hair out with confusion. Kai wasn't this guy. He wasn't the guy who hooked up with a girl in his brother's house and began ignoring her straight afterward.
I blinked. "That's so fucking dumb. He's so dumb."
"Kai isn't great at conflict resolution," Jameson said in his friend's defence. "He is conflict avoidant. If something is wrong, he will take any pains to avoid be involved. I was mad at him once—it's exhausting, you know, being mad at Kai, because he's such a good fucking guy that you just feel bad about it—and he skipped every class we had together for a week." Jameson shook his head, but with a certain level of fondness that I would usually have found endearing, but when I currently was in a hate-fest with its object, found sincerely annoying. "It's very unrelatable; I love conflict. It's the most fun any guy can have without taking his clothes off. That's why I'm not mad about your stupid plan with Kai."
I frowned and resisted the urge to make a Cora-core joke, but it felt a little bit mean when we were technically fighting. "Why would you have been mad in the first place?"
"Oh, I hate being left out," said Jameson, matter-of-fact. "Especially when it's a plan all about fucking over Aster and Collins, who I hate as much as I hate being left out."
"So, you don't think it's stupid and embarrassing and the clincher for dumping me as a friend harder than Kai has dumped me as..." Well, I didn't want to say girlfriend, because that was a double dose of humiliation "...whatever we were?"
That made Jamie scoff, but it was maybe the first time I saw any sincerity to Jameson Miller. He took one of my hands, in a way that would have felt ridiculous from someone who didn't have the air and presence of a nineteenth century duke. "It's absolutely stupid and embarrassing, and it makes me want to be your friend so much more."
I threw my arms around him, and he was startled enough to fall halfway off the bed, until I was lying practically on top of him. I didn't care; if there was one thing I feared almost as deeply as losing Kai, it was losing the friends I'd made through our connection. Will and Seb and Isabelle and, most importantly, Jamie, who made me laugh even when things were absolutely shit.
Jameson didn't mind the floor either, it seemed, even as I pushed off him. He just lay back on the plush carpet, arms folded behind his head and a shit-eating grin on his face. "Darling, I understand that your method of coping with heartbreak has been latching onto a nearby hottie and making them your fake boyfriend, but alas, I couldn't do that to Kai. And Madeleine would cut off my balls, and I'm quite fond of them. Which is a shame, really because you're almost as hot as me—"
"Madi would cut off your balls?" I interrupted, before Jamie could launch into a tirade of self-compliments. "I thought you guys were casual and seeing other people, or whatever hot, fun people do in situationships."
"We are, but the balls thing is exactly why I love Madeleine," said Jameson, wistfully. "She's so charmingly vengeful."
I raised an eyebrow. "You love Madi?"
Jameson seemed surprised that I'd ask. "Of course I do. I would never be friends with anyone who I didn't love, and I would never hook up with someone more than once if we weren't friends. I have a code, Valerie."
"You are confusing."
"More confusing than Kai?"
"No." I had to talk to him. Surely he was planning on letting me. He wasn't, couldn't be, expecting me to simply proceed with my life, never having the breakdown of what I was certain we had explained to me. "I just can't think of a single reason why he won't fucking talk to me."
"I'll try and ask him again. But we've affirmed that he's an idiot."
I sighed, and slumped back on my bed. "Sure, but usually an articulate one."
Jamie considered this for a moment. "Not always. There's lots of things Kai doesn't like to talk about."
Kai was chatty. Not to the extent of Jamie or Cole, but for a teenage guy, he was unexpectedly articulate, and was never content to sit silently in a conversation. It was one of the things I liked most about him. But there had always been one topic that he avoided more than the others; one topic that was only brought forth when it felt like he had no choice, as if she was a dam within him that he had to gently release, lest it overflooded and collapsed beneath the weight of so many unsaid things.
"Do you mean Maria?" I asked.
Jamie nodded.
I twined my fingers together, so tightly my knuckles bleached white. "I keep wondering whether she has something to do with this, but then I tell myself I'm being stupid. Like there's no grand explanation, and maybe he just doesn't like me as much as I thought he did. But I felt... I feel like he does. I think I'm just looking for any reason other than me, and Maria seems to be the source of all Kai's problems. What do you think?"
I knew very little about Maria, having only existed in Kai's periphery until I'd fallen over on his lawn a few months ago. But Jamie had known Kai forever.
"Oh, I wouldn't know. Kai doesn't tell me," said Jamie, without a hint of bitterness. "We've never been those kind of friends. I think Kai tells himself I have no clue that Maria isn't the ideal parent. I don't think he's ever credited me with being perceptive enough to know, even though, to anyone who knows him, it's painfully obvious. I mean, it's not the best-kept secret."
"You would think it would be easier to talk to you about it," I said, thinking of Jamie's parents and that sad, empty house that he was the unwilling ghost of.
A smile kicked up the corner of Jamie's lips. "Someone's been talking, huh?"
It was such a commonly-known fact that sometimes I forgot it was not Jameson himself who shared it. Jamie, while a known complainer, never complained about the most important things. The only time he mentioned his absentee parents was with a small, dark comment, thrown out with a rarity that was uncharacteristic of the loquacious Jameson. He talked about almost everything else with a kind of fervour and ceaselessness that would have been exhausting if he wasn't so charming. But it was hard to tell people that your parents were fine, and rich, and had every advantage in life, and couldn't even carve out the hours for their own son. The only time Jamie had ever discussed it was that car ride weeks ago, and even that was partially instigated by sleep loss.
"Don't worry about it." Jamie's wave was dismissive. "Kai has always depended on Will for emotional support, Seb for good advice and me for comic relief and a handsome face."
"How does he depend on your handsome face?"
Jameson pointed at me. "Thank you for agreeing that it's handsome, I really appreciate that. Seb would tell me to get over myself."
"You should get over yourself. You're also good looking. They're not mutually exclusive."
He just seemed happy that I'd called him good-looking and was pleased enough to deign my question with a response. "Kai likes to look at pretty things. That's why he keeps us both around, of course."
"Are you calling me ugly? Because Kai isn't exactly keeping me around."
"Of course he's keeping you around," said Jameson, aghast. It seemed like Jamie hadn't even considered that Kai's current state of completely ignoring me was permanent. I'd love to bottle his optimism and drink it as frequently as he sipped from his own flask. "You're on the group chat. That's forever, you know."
Unfortunately, my glass was half empty, and I had no such faith that Kai would reconsider his current stance on the grounds of my group chat membership. I mean, it was possible to create a new one. I didn't want to burst Jamie's bubble, though.
"Well, anyway, I'd like to think I'm around for my glowing personality."
Jameson nodded sagely. "And your rockin' bod."
I shoved him, and he grinned. It was both mine and Jameson's style to undercut any heavy topics with garrulous conversation, and although it was evident to both of us what we were trying to do, it still helped. It gave Jamie the courage to speak, at least. He didn't look at me when he did, though, adverse to the vulnerability of being honest. "I've known Kai for over a decade. And I think everyone needs a friend who will always be there for them, but who they never share anything deep with. Because sometimes you don't need advice or to be asked if you're okay. That's what I am to Kai; if I ever thinks he wants more from me than that, I will gladly oblige."
I nudged him, and when he looked up at me, his green eyes were piercing, but softer than I'd ever seen him. Honesty sanded Jamie's hard edges, and tore down the defences of quick wit and sarcasm. "You're the friend I'm going to turn to for this stuff, yeah?"
"Yeah," said Jamie.
"I'm glad Kai has a friend who can be there for him in whatever capacity he needs."
"Like a really sexy chameleon."
"Sure," I said. "But he should ask you about this. I think you might have more ability to understand. You're not the same, but you understand what it's like to live in a house with someone you hate."
"I don't understand why he still lives there, really," said Jameson. "Maria is awful. I've offered him a room a hundred times; Will probably has a thousand times. He never says yes."
"Because of Isabelle."
Jamie shook his head. "We wouldn't leave Isabelle in that house with Maria. Will would never even dream of it. Nor would any of us for that matter, but you know the Kennedy's would put her up in a heartbeat. She was always part of the deal." Jamie tapped his fingers against the sheets thoughtfully. "I think I'd like living with Iz as much as I would Kai; she's chatty enough to keep up with me."
"Wouldn't Maria have custody, though? Isabelle's only fifteen; she couldn't have just moved out."
"Maria wouldn't fight it. She's never cared enough to fight for Isabelle."
It didn't surprise me that both Jamie and the Kennedys had offered to take the Delaney siblings in, just as it didn't surprise me that Kai said no. Kai was proud, too proud. It didn't surprise me that Kai had refused the offer; it did surprise me that he didn't play hypocrite and make Isabelle accept. It didn't make sense really, not if what I knew about my ex-boyfriend was true. Kai was proud, but never too proud to do the right thing for his sister. She was the sun around which his entire world orbited.
Which was exactly why he would never have accepted the offer.
I remembered what Kai had said outside the shops only a month ago. She loves me when she doesn't love them. Because Maria did love Kai; it was evident from the only interaction I'd seen between them, when she'd gravitated toward Kai as if she existed in his orbit. Maria might love Kai, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to hurt him. Because I'd also seen the fierce way Kai loved his sister; Kai would feel a papercut to Izzy like a physical blow. Maria hurt Kai every time she spurned her daughter. She would hurt Kai, as long as it meant he stayed.
"She wouldn't fight for Isabelle, but she would fight for Kai," I said.
"What?"
"Maria would have fought for custody of Isabelle if it meant that she got to keep Kai. You were right; no one would dream of leaving Isabelle in that house."
It made a scary kind of sense. I felt almost uncomfortable for thinking of it, but everything Kai had told me about Maria suggested that she wouldn't be above it. His mother loved him, and it was the one thing he struggled to forgive her for; the thing that bound him to her. I knew he felt obligated to his mother for it, but maybe the tie was a little more literal.
Jamie's lips parted. "You think she's using Isabelle against Kai? That would be... insane, Valerie."
"And have you met Maria Delaney?" Jameson's expression was pained, but every admission about Maria that Kai had ever allowed—before everything, before he'd dumped me in an epic gas-fire—whirred in my head. "Kai won't leave her in that house."
Jameson considered my words for a moment, but I saw a glimmer of something in his eyes that said he might just agree with me. He was still cautious when responding. "It's probably not overt blackmail. If Kai told Maria he was moving out and taking Isabelle with him, all she'd have to do is say no. Any reasonable parent would say that."
Maria wasn't reasonable. But still. "There's just so many... solutions to the problem, though," I said, frustrated. "He has an older brother, and there's services for this. Surely acquiescing to an emotionally abusive, alcoholic mother isn't the only fucking option."
"Valerie, Kai's just not like that. Conflict averse, I told you. He'd be too concerned about everything that could go wrong; he wouldn't consider the things that could go right. He shuts down when things go wrong."
And maybe I didn't know Kai as well as I thought I did—evidently—because I'd never seen Kai in a crisis. But Jamie rubbed his nose self-consciously, as if this was some secret inner cog of Kai's mind that only time would reveal, and I was the outsider now privy to its workings. Jameson was saying that Kai shut down in a crisis, and maybe that didn't just apply to Maria.
Maybe the problem that sat like a tangible thing between me and Kai was not a result of my actions, but the result of something inherent within him. A crisis response. But what was the crisis?
It didn't feel important right now. I loved Kai as a human being, regardless of the romantic stuff, and I loved Izzy too. The situation with Maria had been enduring, decades old, and yet it suddenly felt pressing. Like something I had to set right, even thought it was hardly my place.
"I want to talk to Zac," I told Jamie. "Maybe I can; I don't know. Do something. Do you think he'd talk to me then?"
Jamie looked vaguely sceptical. The wind from my open window—fresh air to dramatically blow at my curtains to add a cinematic touch to my previous state of tragic wallowing—tousled his hair as he sat up from his spot sprawled across my floor, instead twisting to lean against my legs dangling from the bed.
I tapped Jamie insistently on the head. "Surely he'd talk to me then, James."
"Probably," said Jamie cheerfully. "Otherwise, it would just be rude."
"And the thing he's doing at the moment is just the pinnacle of decent manners."
Jamie seemed to agree, but still firmly had a foot planted both in Camp Valerie and Camp Kai, and refused to talk shit about either. Spoilsport.
"Zac lives in Casserine, though. What are you going to do, a teleconference? Send him an e-invite to a meeting with the subject line: you're a shitty brother with a shitty mother, let's discuss?"
"Something like that," I said absently.
"Well, when you're done problem-solving Kai's far more drastic home-situation, want to move onto sorting mine? I'll even pay you; my parents are disgustingly rich and I'd give anything to move out of that fucking house."
"Why don't you?" I asked. I'd wondered that, absently, without the thoughts ever really developing to fruition. Moving out at eighteen was uncommon, sure, but hardly unheard of. And it wasn't as if Jameson was constricted by things like money, or looking after family like Kai. "You said your parents give you everything you ask for."
Jameson propped himself up on his elbows, incredulity furrowing his brows. "Shit, Williams, I didn't mean a house."
"You could rent," I pointed out. "Or, I don't know, get a job."
"Manual labour? Getting out of bed before midday? Do these hands look like they were built for employment?" Jameson said, flashing me his hands, which actually did look noticeably soft. But there was a hesitancy in his voice, beneath the flippancy, as if the concept of leaving had never even occurred to him. Kai might be hamstrung by fear, but Jameson's roadblocks were, primarily, an inability to consider that his circumstances could be anything beyond the form they existed in at the given moment.
I knelt down next to him, clutched his shoulders. Jameson was perfectly coiffed perfection, handsomeness painted by both a generous gene package and well-lined pockets, but his eyes were just ordinary. Green, but not emerald or particularly vivid. Jamie seemed taken aback by the intensity of my stare; he was naturally inclined to nonchalance, abhorrent of any seriousness.
"Jameson," I said. "Did you get a manicure?"
The tension on his face broke like a curling wave crashing against a sandbank. The smile that replaced it was appreciative, even though he said, "You judgemental bitch, manicures can be very masculine."
"I wouldn't dare assume otherwise. Next time you should ask for French tips, though, I think they would really accentuate the oval shape you're going for with the filing."
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. "You're not wrong." And then his lips quirked upward, just slightly. "You're not wrong about the other thing, either."
"You could find roommates," I suggested. "Rent a house together? See, I can multitask on helping you and Kai at the same time."
"Don't be ridiculous," said Jameson. "You clearly do a shit job when multitasking if you haven't realised all of the numerous flaws with what you just said. I can't stand most people. What if they don't flush the toilet, Valerie? What if they eat my leftovers?"
"Can you even cook?"
Jameson's eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God, would I have to cook?"
"You could also move out with people you know."
"That's even worse, Valerie," said Jameson. "Almost everyone I know is the worst. Irresponsible and annoying. I need a stand-in mother figure, like my maid, who keeps things clean and is paid to laugh at all my jokes. And does my washing."
I rolled my eyes, content to listen as Jameson rambled on about his ideal roommate, while I allowed my own mind to wander. There were a lot of things I had to do. I created a mental checklist, as Jameson ranted about the specific objects he would allow someone to insert into his asshole before he ever cleaned a toilet. (This was, I had to admit, a tier ranking system I would usually have been invested in, if I wasn't so mentally preoccupied.)
VALERIE'S LIST OF THINGS TO DO
1. Talk to Zac Delaney
2. Bleech my brain of any memory of the line "entire golf club and the furry beaver cover up my ass before I scrubbed someone's shit, Valerie."
3. Fix things with Cora.
4. Figure out what the fuck was going on with Kai