He wants to circle the table, hug her, but she looks so fragile, like she might shatter into pieces at the slightest touch.
Gently, he says, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him. We both know Alexander isn’t like this. And I’ve been struggling with how to tell you, because, what if it was just a one-time slipup? But I felt like you needed to know the truth—”
“It’s so fucked up,” Charleigh says, shaking her head. Tsk-tsking.
“It really is.”
“I don’t mean what Alexander did. Yes, that’s giantly fucked up. But what’s really fucked up is you sitting here telling me about it.”
Jackson’s mouth goes dry. The words dry up themselves, too.He never expected this reaction from her.
The fury is back in her eyes, molten, simmering. “You didn’t want to sit here with this, with your own pain, so you couldn’twaitto drag me down with you. You were hurt, and you wanted me to be hurt, too.”
Is she for real?
“That’s not fair—that’snotwhy I’m telling you! I’m telling you because it was killing menottelling you. Keeping it from you. I told you because I love you!” He’s nearly yelling, he’s so wound up.
She spears her drink with her straw, consumes the last of it. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “We could’ve gone the rest of our lives and been fine. And now we’llneverbe fine again.Whydid you have to tell me?” she shrieks.
She’s acting like fucking Nellie. Throwing a tantrum. Shooting the messenger. Unbelievable.
Adrenaline pounds through Jackson’s system; he’s quaking. He’s just about had his fill of her toxic bullshit. He can’t just sit here and take her abuse anymore. He gets that she’s demolished, but to take it out on him?
“Charleigh, I know you’re—”
She cuts him off, her words a steel blade. “You could’veprotectedme from this!”
He can’t take it anymore.
He stands, the metal chair skittering behind him. If he stays here one second longer, their friendship will disintegrate; this time, it won’t recover. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sweep thisone under the rug. “Call me when you’ve calmed the fuck down,” he says over his shoulder. “When you’ve remembered who truly loves you.”
“Fuck you, Jackson.”
He turns away, marches across the deck, seething. There is so much more he could, and should, say to her, but he just can’t. His face burning, and now with enough distance, he shout-whispers through clenched teeth: “Fuck you forever, Charleigh Andersen, you enormously entitled bitch. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you for life.”
84
Nellie
I hate Jane Swift, cannot stand the sight of her.
Like just now. We are supposed to be out here at the Circles for a candlelight vigil for Blair, and she’s marking her territory: Luke. Backing into him, pulling his arms around her, making sure that I, and everybody else, will know they’re together.
Howpathetic.
She looks so self-satisfied, so full of herself, I want to walk over and smack that smug look right off her face.
But then I see Luke peel himself off her, back away, and I remember our kiss the other night. Passionate. Firecrackers. Him telling me hedoeslike me, but that he’s confused.
Jane might win the immediate battle—she might hook up with him later tonight on the funny farm—but I’m gonna win the war.
Jane heads off toward the keg, is refilling her cup, when I move in for the kill. She’s all alone; it’s the perfect time to knock her down a notch, put her in her place.
Plus, I’ve been pounding the Hunch Punch since I got here, and I’m full of piss and vinegar, as my stupid mother would say, ready to unleash.
I start by snatching the hose from her midstream, fillingmycup instead.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished—”
