I nod, my eyes trailing over the massive grandfather clock on the wall opposite of the foreign bed I’m sitting in. “Yeah, I’m not going either.”

“It will mean a lot to her to know that you’re checking on her,” she shares.

I grip my phone tighter, pulling at the small thread hanging from the hem of my leggings. “Have I been that shitty lately?”

“Not shitty, but you did drop us pretty fast. At least we know why now, though.”

When I don’t say anything, she quietly adds, “You know we don’t care, right? About you and, you know, those guys.”

“They have names.”

She chuckles sleepily. “Yeah, they do, but after the way your back seat bestie looked at me yesterday, I think I’ll take a page from Harry Potter and fear speaking his name aloud.”

I scoff, a small smile tugging at my lips, but my muscles ache beneath my skin. My mother’s voice grows closer, so I tug myself up.

“Want to come over, watch some Kardashians or something?” Cali offers.

I know I’m messed up in the head when that sounds amazing.

“I can’t.” I put the phone on speaker and set it on top of the dresser, tightening my ponytail and running my fingers under my eyes, patting at the puffiness my sleepless night gifted me. “I have to go, and I might not be around to answer calls today, but I’ll check my messages when I can.”

“Well, unless Jules can sweet talk her way out of the hospital’s regulation of the mandatory psycho watch, I say you’ll be missing nothing.”

“True. Okay, talk to you later.” I hang up, stuff my phone in my closest bag and open the bedroom door to find my mom headed right for me, a glam team silently following.

“What, you have a key to his house?”

“Your house?” she corrects but waves me off and steps inside the giant space. “No, I don’t have a key, but you have a maid, and maid’s open doors when someone knocks.” She spins on her heels. “I called you three times.”

“I know. I’m the one who hit ignore.”

She looks over my shoulder. “Come in, set up. We’ll be right back.”

She steps out and with a roll of my eyes, I follow her into the kitchen where an espresso machine is being set up in the corner.

A hint of satisfaction twitches at my lips, but it’s an extremely low win at this point.

“I thought you were strong, Jameson? Tough.”

“I am.”