He waits a beat, and then sets his coffee aside. “I’m scared, Mena,” he says. “For you, for all the girls, for me and Quentin. I’m scared that going into the woods isn’t going to be enough to hide you, even temporarily. I’m scared that although I’d literally die to protect you, it still won’t be enough to stop the rich andpowerful who run this world. I’m just… really scared.”
“To be fair,” I say, “they’re not untouchable. I’m not advocating murdering them like someone is doing, but theycanbe gotten to. We just have to keep fighting, Jackson. Even if it’s all the way to our end, we do our best and make it easier for the next girl to fight.”
He watches me for a moment, and then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“You’re the fucking greatest, you know that?” he asks. I laugh.
“I’m pretty cool, but I think ‘the greatest’ is stretching it a bit.”
“I don’t.” He holds out his hand to me and I walk over, slowly, dragging out the moment before leaning down and kissing him.
Ten minutes later, we’re all piled into Jackson’s car, Quentin driving and me and Annalise in the backseat so we can sit together. We stop off at a big-box store, where Quentin runs in to buy us new phones, and then he drives us to a shopping plaza in an older part of town.
“Everyone here will mind their own business,” he says.
He pulls into the nearly deserted parking lot, large potholes and abandoned shopping carts littering the area. It’s a bit run-down and a few of the shops are closed, but it has everything we need. There’s a massive Dollar General, a hardware store, and even a hair salon and assorted clothing shops.
Quentin parks and points to a set of glass double doors. “That leads to a small food court,” he says. “I’m getting some French toast sticks and a cinnamon bun, anyone else want?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jackson says, and gathers his crutches.
“We’ll meet you there,” Annalise says, winking to let him know she absolutely will not be meeting him there. He laughs.
“We’ll stop by the grocery store on the way out of town,” Quentin says. “I’ll make us dinner tonight. You know, after we clear up the cobwebs in the cabin. Toss out the squirrels that have enjoyed their retirement there.”
“Are you a good cook?” I ask. Annalise muffles her laugh and he shoots her a dirty look in the rearview mirror.
“Yes-I-am-thank-you-very-much,” he says. Then a moment later, “You like Campbell’s chicken soup or tomato?”
We chuckle, and Annalise reaches forward to push the back of his head. We all get out of the car, taking a careful look around, and then head toward the plaza. There is a flame-grilled smell in the air, and I realize I’m starving.
“Actually,” I tell Annalise, “I’m pretty hungry.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “You go ahead with them. I need to pick up a few things. Meet up with you in a bit.” She heads in the other direction toward the Dollar General.
I walk with the boys to the glass doors, and Quentin pulls one open to hold it for us. “Think they have pizza ready this early?” he asks.
“It would be a tragedy if they didn’t,” Jackson replies.
“You want pizza at nine in the morning?” I ask.
“Yes,” they both say at the same time.
When we get to the food court, the pizza place is indeed open, although the worker is still setting out ingredients in the metal pans behind the glass shield.
“I’m still getting those French toast sticks,” Jackson says, heading toward the fast food restaurant across the room.
I decide that pizza sounds kind of perfect, and I walk over with Quentin to order. The employee can barely hold in her contempt as she rings us up, sleep still in the corners of her eyes. She tosses pepperoni on Quentin’s slice, leaving mine with just cheese, and places them both into the oven to heat up.
“It’ll be, like, five minutes,” she says, not looking directly at us.
Quentin widens his eyes at me, and we go to stand at the end of the counter to wait, watching Jackson stand behind the older couple in the fast food line. He turns around, finds us, and waves. I smile and wave back.
When Quentin and I have our slices, hot from the oven, I watch as he coats his pizza in grated cheese and red pepper flakes. Before we even leave the counter, he takes a monster bite. He looks over when he senses me staring at him.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just thinking… I have to say I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for what happened at Imogene’s house.”
“We already went over this,” he says, but I shake off his dismissal.
