The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

He didn’t join me in smiling. Instead, he looked worried. “It is when my mom’s calling.”

He was almost to his phone when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I raced after him, although I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t to stop him from answering. She could have been calling for any number of reasons, but Troy held the same trepidation as I did. My heart sputtered and climbed into my throat.

He tapped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear, his gaze fixed on me. “Hello?”

Jenna’s voice was raised enough I could hear her. “Where are you? You turned your location off.”

His face twisted. “I’m at Preston’s.”

This time she was so loud he held the phone away from his ear. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Troy Edward Osbourne. I just got off the phone with Clark Graham.”

Everything inside me vaporized.

Of course Clark had recognized Troy, and he’d rightly assumed Jenna wasn’t aware of our relationship, because she wouldn’t allow it if she were. So, he’d gone straight to her to punish me.

He’d never forgiven me for telling Derrick’s wife, and I was sure he felt vindicated in exposing me. I could hear my ex’s voice echoing in my head. “Now we’re even.”

My shoulders sank, and the utter turmoil I had was broadcast perfectly on Troy’s handsome face.

“Fine. I’m at Erika’s.” His tone was empty. “We were going to tell you.”

Whatever she said, it was too low for me to hear this time. He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob in his throat while he lowered the phone. Tension held his shoulders tight as he stretched his hand toward me. “She, uh, wants to talk to you.”

I exhaled sharply and took his offered phone. I closed my eyes, centered myself, and brought it to my ear. “Jenna, I’m so sorry. We were—”

“You. Lying. Bitch.” Venom dripped from every word. “He’s half your age, and my son. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

It was immediately followed by an electronic click as she disconnected the call, but I held his phone pressed to my cheek for several more seconds, as if my friendship with Jenna wasn’t truly over until I lowered my hand.

He gently pulled the phone from me, dropped it on the chair, and circled his arms around my waist. I clung to his warmth because her words had invaded my mind and caused shivers to rack my body.

“I am ashamed,” I whispered to him, “of how I lied to her.”

He stroked a hand over the back of my head and hugged me closer. “She was going to be mad no matter what, and try to tell us we couldn’t.”

While he was right, “That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know.” His heartbeat was strong and steady, maintaining a perfectly calm tempo, and I envied him for it.

It was easier to focus my emotions into anger toward Clark instead of my own guilt, so I did that. It was so unfair. Troy and I had already decided to tell his parents. If we’d been caught in a compromising position a day later, we could have avoided Jenna learning it this way. Clark telling her was the freaking worst way possible for her to find out.

“Come on,” Troy said softly. “Let’s get dressed and we’ll go talk to her.”

I shot him a dubious look. I knew my friend and how she’d react to her son showing up with me in tow. “She won’t speak to me.”

“Then I’ll do the talking,” he said, taking my hand in his.

Troy had a calming effect, which kept my level of anxiety down just enough so I didn’t bail out of his Jeep when Jenna and Bill’s house came into view.

But his calm demeanor came to a screeching halt when he spotted the stack of boxes at the curb. “What the fuck?”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing either. “Is that your stuff?”

Once we were in the driveway, he angrily shifted into park, shut off the engine, and climbed out of his seat. Jenna came through the gate carrying an open box with a computer keyboard sticking out the top.

“You’re kicking me out?” he demanded.

She pulled to a stop, but when she spied me getting out of his Jeep, her eyes narrowed to slits and she moved to add the box to the pile. “You’ve lied to me enough times you’ve lost the privilege of living under my roof.”

For added effect, she dropped the box and it landed with a hard, careless thud, making him wince.

“And you,” she swung an angry finger toward me, “have some fucking nerve showing up here. Jesus, Erika, I thought you were my friend. How could you?”

My shoulders slumped and I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

Troy was more focused on the immediate issue. “Where am I supposed to go?”