Page 34

“You are not weak.” The corner of my mouth twitches, and I shrug. “Needy, maybe. You probably couldn’t survive on your own. What would you eat?”
She slaps my arm playfully. “Coffee.”
“See? It’s true.” I chuckle. “Do you even know where your phone is?”
“Umm…” She glances sideways. “Next to the bath—I think.”
I find it on the floor, underneath a towel. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” I say, handing it to her. “Do you want me to stay?”
She offers a gentle smile. “No, go enjoy your boyfriend.”
I want to tell her I’ll be right outside. All she has to do is call for me. “Text me. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m—”Fine. She cuts herself off. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your ex is a controlling asshole and his father is involved in human and drug trafficking? Or because you pour all your energy into others, leaving yourself drained?
“Because you missed me. Obviously.”
On my way out, I hold myself back and only give Jackson one warning. “Whatever toxic shit you’ve got going on in your head—keep it there. If you’re not here to care for her, let someone else.”
He raises a taunting brow. “Like you?”
I exit before I strangle him or blow my cover.
18
JACKSON
Every time I fuck up,someone else enters the chat. First Ethan, now Ricky. He may have a boyfriend, but it’s clear he’s attached to Aurora, and she to him.
I stand in her hallway, staring at her closed bedroom door. She’s right behind it yet worlds away.
My chest feels tight, an iron fist wrapped around my heart, crushing me. A tremor runs through my fingers, and I clench and unclench my hands. My stomach is a knot of dread, churning and twisting with panic.
She won’t forgive me this time.
She’s different.
A fiery haze of rage blurs my vision, though not against her.
Me. Kyle. My fucked-up life. The thought of living without her.
It’s torture.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I absentmindedly lift it to my ear.
Silence hangs heavy before his gruff voice breaks through the blackness. “Take a breath.”
Air fills my lungs, the act of breathing labored. “Let me guess: Ricky called you.” My words come out raspy and broken, and I swallow the thick lump in my throat.
“Yup. Told me I better get a handle on my boy or he was tossing you over the balcony.”
My feet carry me away from her door, my paranoia compelling me to check the apartment for him. “He can fucking try.”
Ethan ignores my agitation. “What’s she doing?”
“Resting or sleeping in her room.” I release an audible exhale. “Without me.”