“What are you doing?”
“Seeing who’s there.” He swipes through his phone. “I can see the view from the cameras on my phone.” He stops swiping and looks closer. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell does he want?”
“What? Who is it?”
I’ve barely got the words out when I hear his voice.
“Jackson! Open the damn door!”
“It’s Braden!” I whisper, running up to Jackson.
“Yeah, I know.” He points to the bathroom. “Go in there. I’ll get rid of him.”
“You’re answering the door? Just pretend you’re not home.”
“If I do, he’ll just come back later.”
“He’s looking for me,” I say, panicking. “He knows about us! He knows I’m here!”
“Jackson!” Braden yells, pounding on the door.
“Get in there,” Jackson says, motioning to the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I go into the bathroom and lock the door. I put my ear to it, but can’t hear anything.
How would Braden find out about us? Jackson and I haven’t gone anywhere together since we started dating.
Turning to face the mirror, my eyes lower, and I see a tube of mascara on the counter. It’s Kristen’s. She must’ve left it here last night.
It had to have been Kristen who told Braden about us. She couldn’t stand seeing Jackson with me, so she told on us, hoping it’d make us break up.
I really hate that girl. I feel bad that she has family problems, if that’s even true, but I can’t stand her as a person. She’s mean and manipulative and has involved Jackson in something he won’t even tell me about.
Each minute that goes by feels like an hour. What’s taking him so long? What if they’re fighting? What if one of them is dead? They both have access to guns; Jackson has one sitting in his living room, and Braden could take one of Brock’s. I’m sure he knows the code to Brock’s sex room, where he keeps the guns.
More minutes tick by, then someone tries to open the door.
“Rumor, unlock the door.”
It’s Jackson. I was sitting on the counter, but I jump down and run to the door, my hands fumbling to unlock it.
“What’s taking so long?”
“Sorry. Hold on.” I finally unlock it and open the door.
Jackson is standing there, now dressed in jeans and a shirt. There’s a look of shock or confusion on his face. I can’t tell which. And his eyes are darting around in an anxious, nervous way.
“He knows,” I say, breathing hard. “Braden knows about us. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Jackson takes my hand and pulls me back to the bedroom. “Get dressed. You need to go.”
I see the clothes I left on the living room floor last night are now on the bed.
“What happened?” I ask, putting on my jeans. “Did Braden already tell Brock?”
I quickly put on my bra, struggling to fasten it because my hands are shaking. I’m not scared of Brock yelling at me or Braden. My fear is that I might lose Jackson. I’ve fallen for him really hard the past couple of weeks. I might even love him, so the idea of losing him, after everything else I’ve lost, is too much for me to handle.
“Braden doesn’t know about us. That’s not why he was here.”
