Page 40

west

A fter waking up naked and in a towel in Jackson’s bed, I couldn’t go back to the house. I’d managed to sneak past him in the morning, and with him being gone all day, I hadn’t seen him. I did every extra little fucking task I could think of just to avoid going back to his house. Maybe I could sneak in and try to sleep for a few hours on the couch without him knowing I was there.

Having Jackson take care of me while I lost my fucking shit was embarrassing. Even if some part of me was comforted by it. I didn’t want him to see me like that. And I didn’t know how to face him after that.

Well after midnight, I trudged my way into his house. The only light on was the one above the kitchen table. Two sets of keys and a note sat on the keys but that was it. Jackson wasn’t in sight and neither was Tess.

Morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked at the paper. I wasn’t even sure it was meant for me, but I couldn’t help myself .

West-check the bedroom, check the bathroom.

Both sets of keys are yours. You have the only copy.

-Jackson

What the hell did that mean? I toyed with the keys, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do with them. The idea of going back to either of those places made my anxiety spike. A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. I had to look because he’d gone ahead and done something.

I swept up the keys and forced myself down the hall. The bathroom was first, but my hand faltered on the doorknob. A new doorknob. I ran my thumb over it. Why was there a new doorknob on the bathroom door? I pushed it open, and the smell of paint was an overwhelming blast to the face making me flip on the light.

The yellow was gone.

In its place were deep grey walls, a black shower curtain, and matching accessories placed around the bathroom. Even the garbage can was black.

My chest tightened painfully. Jackson had taken away all the yellow. And he put in a new lock that only I had the keys to.

Why?

With my heart doing something wildly uncomfortable in my chest, I made my way down the hall to the guest bedroom. Grey walls, black bedding, and an old framed painting of horses hanging on the wall. It was a completely different room.

He’d gotten rid of all the yellow. That singular thought stuttered around my brain, breaking off little pieces of me in a way I couldn’t describe. No one had ever done anything like this for me.

I sank down to the bed, unsure of what to do about everything he’d done. And why? It made no sense.