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[sub][color=slategray]Featuring: [color=31ba9f]Jamie Callaghan[/color], [color=ba3191]Alison Callaghan[/color] and [color=31ba5b]Henry Callaghan[/color]
Location: The Callaghan Home
Interacting With: [color=15603a]Trixie Kingsley[/color] [@Lovely Complex][/color][/sub][/center][hr][hr]

It had been an absolutely perfect night. This had been the kind of date that you tell your kids about, the kind of date that could send even Jamie, the most grounded and practical of lovers, into a full on fit of romanticism. As Marshall’s home grew smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror, Jamie’s mind lit up with images of Marshall, his brain replaying snippets of the night over and over. He smiled, grateful that his tumultuous week had ended with a very handsome capstone. 

All good things must come to an end, and Jamie’s lovestruck day dreams were no exception. After parking his car and walking into his house, he heard his mom call from the kitchen. 

[color=ba3191][b]“Jamie, can you come here? Your dad and I need to talk to you.”[/b][/color]

Adrenaline flooded his nervous system, and his heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t even sure what they could’ve found, but suddenly he knew they had something. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and put on a poker face. From the balcony that overlooked the entryway, Katie peeked her head over, grimacing in a shared commiseration. This wasn’t going to be good.

Jamie found his parents seated at the kitchen table, staring him down, a copy of the school newspaper between them. They remained silent as he slowly approached the table and took a seat, a deer all too curious of the hunters stalking him. The copy in question was his infamous piece on Hailey the Heartbreaker, leading to a moment of confusion. How the hell had they even gotten it, and why the hell did they care?

[color=ba3191][b]“Owen Lyon dropped this off earlier. He wasn’t very happy about it,”[/b][/color] Alison said, cooly. She had yet to pass judgement on Jamie, but his next few words would determine his sentence.

[color=31ba9f][b]“Well that’s no surprise,”[/b][/color] Jamie scoffed, his confidence rising. He’d had this fight enough times this week that he could navigate it like a pro. [color=31ba9f][b]“He didn’t want me to write it, but he’s also not my boss. So what’s the issue?”[/b][/color]

Henry sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples as if to relieve the headache that seemed to have started the moment his children became teenagers. [color=31ba5b][b]“The [i]issue[/i], Jamie, is that we have kids showing up at our house, complaining about what you said about them,”[/b][/color]

[color=31ba9f][b]“And what exactly did I say about Owen Lyon? That he’s not a cheater? That he stood up for Jennifer Hart? I didn’t slander anyone, I did my job. I may have gone over Trixie’s head in the process, but that was a matter of time. I needed the story out.”[/b][/color]

[color=31ba5b][b]“Jamie, did you perhaps stop to consider that there’s certain things that everybody doesn’t need to know? That some people value privacy?”[/b][/color] 

[color=31ba9f][b]“Dad, my job is to report on this kind of thing! Trixie told me to get this story, hell, she’s the one who spilled everything to me! It’s not my job to consider what Owen Lyon wants, it’s my job to save the paper!”[/b][/color]

[color=31ba5b][b]“Well maybe, you should find a different job,”[/b][/color] Henry said, his words hanging in the air as he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Jamie and his mother in an uncomfortable silence. After a moment, Jamie stood to storm out too, but his mom stopped him, placing her hand on his. 

[color=ba3191][b]“Honey, sometimes, the right thing isn’t in line with what you’re supposed to do. Sometimes your path is a little different than the one you lay out for yourself. I know it can be hard, but I also know that you have it in you.”[/b][/color] Alison said, giving her oldest boy a comforting smile.

Jamie shook his head, and followed his father out of the kitchen, storming upstairs and throwing himself onto his bed, letting out a guttural scream into his mattress. Gone were the thoughts of him and Marshall. He was furious. He was doing everything he was supposed to, doing everything he’d done for the past two years of high school, and yet he was suddenly being persecuted for it. 

For a while, he let the anger wash over him. His fists found pillows to pummel, slamming into them over and over, a number of them taking on Owen Lyon’s stupid face. His screams were released into the muffling ball of blankets, as the weeks worth of stress and irritation, the pressure that had been building since the New Years party all came flooding out. 

Finally, he fell back, exhausted by his outburst of emotion. His breathing returned to normal, and out of the fires came an idea. He pulled out his phone, and sent a text that he hoped would set in motion a chain of events that would put this whole thing behind him once and for all. 

[center][b]To: [color=15603a]Trix[/color]
[color=31ba9f]we need to talk[/color][/b][/center]