Welcome to the Queendom

Chapter Forty-Eight

The rain left not only mud and street puddles, but cold weather as well. According to my phone, it was 55 degrees. How it dropped from yesterday's 90 to today's 55 is completely beyond me. I dressed in a gray cross-printed shirt where the sleeves stopped at the elbows, matching pants and black shoe-laced pumps. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail. Dean was already downstairs. I left the room and walked down the hall to Jackson's. I rapped on it and heard mumbling from the other side. I knocked again.
"Come in," Jackson called out hoarsely.
I walked inside. The room was in good condition except for the bed. The mattress was hanging off the box spring, the cover was on one side of the room and the mattress cover was by my feet at the door. Jackson was swaddled in the sheet.
"Jackson?"
He peeked his head out from under the sheet and squinted at me. His eyes were bloodshot red and sweat matted the front part of his hair to his forehead.
"Go away," he grumbled.
"Jackson." I sat on the part of the box spring that was exposed and leaned the upper part of my body on the mattress beside his. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he mumbled.
He looked so dead to the world. "Where'd you go last night?" I asked him.
"None of your business," he said in my face. His breath reeked of alcohol.
"Have you been drinking?" I questioned.
He shrugged. "Maybe; maybe not."
Him and Dean were more alike than Dean realized.
"I'm gonna go get you some water," I told him.
"No," Jackson said, grabbing my arm. He started hiccuping. "Just stay here."
He started to get up, but just sat back down again, holding his forehead in pain. Hiccup.
"I'll be right back," I said.
Mr. Good shot up from his seat when he saw me. "Do you know if Jackson's home?" he asked urgently.
"Why would Jackson not be home?" Dean questioned confusedly.
"He's sleeping upstairs," I answered Mr. Good. "I came down here to get him a glass of water."
Mr. Good sighed, relief clear on his face, and sat back down as Mrs. Good placed a plate of French toast in front of him.
"What were you guys talking about last night?" Mrs. Good asked as she gave Dean the bottle of syrup.
"Daniella, you've been asking me that question ever since we woke up this morning, nothing," her husband replied irritably.
"You obviously were talking about something bad if Jackson walked out," Mrs. Good countered.
"Wait, wait, wait, what is going on?" Dean asked no one in particular.
"Your father and Jackson got into an argument last night," Mrs. Good answered.
Dean glanced in my direction. "Were you guys outside?" he questioned his dad.
Mr. Good nodded. "So that's what you were looking at last night?"
Everyone turned to me. "You saw them fight?" Mrs. Good asked. "What were they saying?"
"I-I couldn't really hear them," I stuttered, scratching the back of my neck. "The storm was too loud for me to hear."
"But you were trying to eavesdrop," Mr. Good stated, narrowing his eyes at me.
"If you don't want your face looking like that permanently, I suggest you stop glaring at my girlfriend," Dean threatened.
"Dean," Mrs. Good scolded.
"Mom," Dean said back in the same tone.
"I'm gonna be in the kitchen," I intercepted, trudging in that direction. I quickly grabbed a glass from the cupboard and put ice and water in it from the dispenser on the fridge and made a beeline for Jackson's room.
He had his own bathroom and I rummaged through the cabinets to see if there was any aspirin. I found it behind the mirror above the sink. I held the pill out to him.
"Chels, I'm fine," he said. Hiccup.
"Take it," I demanded.
He puffed air out of his cheeks and washed the pill down with water. I set the half empty glass on the nightstand and sat next to him on the mattress.
"What happened last night?" I asked.
He shook his head, wrapping himself back up in the sheet. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Was it that bad?" I questioned. "How did it even start."
Jackson sighed. "I told him congratulations but that if he pulled the same stunt he did before Dean was born, then he'd regret it. I guess he got annoyed because he's been hearing that a lot lately. I guess he just kind of, snapped. We knew it was gonna be this huge deal, so we took it outside. I think we were too mad to really notice the rain. We just had at each other, cussing and yelling. I've never seen him fly off the handle like that. He's yelled but not like that and it felt good to be able to defend myself, you know? He kept saying stuff about how he missed us, and how he never really wanted to leave, and how he didn't everything he could for the family. I left right then because he was lying straight to my face and he knew it. I didn't want to hear anymore so I drove off and met with a friend. We went to the bar and everything's hazy after that."
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Don't get me wrong I'm happy that my parents are back together again, but they're a little too late." He got up, dropping the sheet onto the floor. "Im thirty years old, Chelsea. I've gone without a dad for 28 years and now that I finally have one, I'm barely around to really enjoy it. It's not even like he got arrested or anything like that, he willingly left us. What's stopping him from doing it again? What's stopping him from leaving before this last baby is born? I just don't want him to do the same thing he did to Dean. I don't want him leaving before that baby knows who his father is, you know?"
I nodded, completely understanding. "We all have parent problems."
Jackson laughed. "You have parent problems?" he questioned skeptically.
I nodded. "I haven't spoken to my dad in years. He was never really in my life to begin with but I used to talked to him once in a blue moon. Not that our conversations were interesting or anything. They were awkward and there was too much tension, so I stopped communicating with him all together."
"Dang."
"Yep. He didn't even come visit when I landed myself in the hospital," I stated. "That had to be about, 10 years ago? That's how I really knew that I was fatherless and in all honesty, I've been completely fine without him. I'm mean really, look at where I am now. I have a supporting family, a good, steady job, an awesome boyfriend." I walked up to him and messed his hair up more. "And lifetime friends. Who needs a dad when you have all of that?"
Jackson shrugged, considering. "So don't feel like you and Dean are in this boat alone."
I grabbed his wrist. "Now, come on. Your mom's making French toast."

"Bye, guys," Dean said as I hugged Mrs. Good goodbye and squeezed Jackson's hand. "We'll keep in touch."
Dean and Jackson piled our things in the trunk of the taxi cab as I loaded into the backseat.
Dean jokingly punched Jackson in the chest before climbing in after me. We waved as the driver took off down the street. I leaned back and exhaled.
"I'm going straight to sleep when we get to Baltimore," I told him.
He laughed and put his arm around me.

I crumpled on the bed with a grunt.
"This view is nice," Dean whistled, looking out the window. "Four Seasons Hotels are some of the nicest we've been to."
"Mhm," was all I muttered as I basically melted into the mattress.
Dean moved me under the covers and kissed my temple, turning out the lamplight beside the bed.

When I woke up it was 6:45. The stars were out and the view looked prettier at night lit up. I shifted my feet and kicked something at the foot of the bed. I looked down and saw Seth, his back to me. The TV was on the Spike Channel and a rerun of a Bellator MMA show was playing.
"Seth?" I asked groggily. "What are you doing here?"
"Dean went out," Seth answered distractedly. "He'll be back with some food."
He jumped back as a man knocked his opponent's mouth guard out. "Ouch. That's nasty."
I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes.
"Had a nice nap?"
I shrugged. "I guess," I mumbled as I swiped a hand through my hair.
Seth turned the volume down and spun around to face me. "Have you seen this hotel's pool. It looks out onto the water and bridge," he said excitedly. "You should go swim with me later."
I laughed. "I'll definitely take you up on that offer," I replied.
He grinned. "So how was the wedding?"
"I thought the wedding was beautiful," I stated.
"But Dean didn't." It was more of a statement rather than a question.
"Yep."
"I don't think Dean's ever gonna get over this," Seth stated, shaking his head. "I bet you'd be happy if your parents married, though, huh?"
My smile vanished completely. Actually, I wouldn't. But I knew that was never gonna happen. My mom dislikes my dad just as much a I do, she'll never go for that.
Instead of answering, I grabbed a pillow and pressed it to my chest, crossing my bare feet underneath.
"Anyways," Seth said, not noticing my silence to my relief. "Wanna watch the rest of the show with me? You've missed a lot of good knockouts."
I giggled. "Sure." I scooted up to the edge of the bed as Seth turned the volume back up.
"I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this," Dean said as he and Roman walked in, toting in Chick-fil-a bags. "It was one mistake."
"Yeah, I am getting worked up about it," Roman agreed. "But I have a reason to. I tell you to go left, you go right and it takes us 20 minutes to get back on the right road."
"We made it, though, right?" Dean reasoned.
"That's not the point. I had the directions on my phone," Roman said irritably. "We could've saved a lot of time."
Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes.
"What are you guys going on about?" I asked.
"Lover boy here," Roman began, smacking Dean in the back of the head, "wanted to strand us."
"It's not like I did it on purpose," Dean insisted.
"Yes you did!"
They started bickering again.
"Guys," I said. "Guys!"
It's as if I hadn't spoken at all. I turned to Seth who sighed. "Shut! Up!"
Dean and Roman stopped arguing as Seth pushed himself off the bed. "Give me those." He snatched the food bags away from them. "You guys are arguing more than a married couple."
"That's Chelsea's job, not mine," Roman pointed out. Everyone turned to me.
"Ha, ha, ha, very funny," I laughed sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.
Seth gave me one of the bags and sat back down.
"Have you know, Dean and I are going to stop fighting," I said, chewing on a waffle fry that had made it way to the bottom of the bag.
Roman snorted in laughter. "Yeah, right. You guys not fighting is like people living without breathing; impossible. You guys are down each other's throats the majority of the time."
I narrowed my eyes at him before taking out a box of chicken nuggets. "Whatever."