I run out of my room and out the door, then walk quickly down the street, ignoring stares from the neighbors who are outside. I'm sure they've seen the news and think I was involved in Kristen's death. Jackson's house still has police tape around it, a constant reminder to the neighbors that they're living next to an accused killer. The house next to Jackson's was for sale but the sign is now gone, the owner probably thinking they'll never sell it with police tape lining the house next door.
"I needed this," Jackson says, pulling me in for a hug the moment he sees me.
"Why? What happened now?"
"Nothing. I just need this." He inhales a breath, keeping me in the hug. "I feel better when you're around."
I go inside and see his dad walk by, his phone to his ear. He's wearing black jeans and a black button-up shirt, a very serious look on his face.
"When is your dad leaving?" I quietly ask as we go to the living room.
"Tomorrow. He decided to work from here tonight."
"Oh," I say, disappointed.
Jackson smiles. "We can still go in my room. Are you spending the night?"
"I think so. I don't want to be at the house when Braden gets back."
"He's not getting out tonight. He'll have to wait until he can go before a judge. It could take a week."
"A week? You were out in a day."
"Because my dad has connections. Brock doesn't."
"So Braden won't be playing in the game on Friday. He's going to go crazy not being able to play."
"I can't either so both teams are without their best players."
"When Braden's out on bail, you think they'll let him play?"
"Yeah. The school doesn't care if he killed someone. They just want to win games."
Jackson pulls me on his lap and kisses me. "You wore your uniform."
"I didn't have time to change."
"You know I have no self-control when you wear this." He slides his hand up my leg, under my skirt, as he kisses my neck. "Now I have to have you."
I smile. "I'm good with that."
"Jackson!" Roman yells from down the hall.
I try to jump off Jackson's lap but he keeps me there.
"What do you need?" Jackson yells to his dad.
"I need you to be quiet. I'm going in the office to do a conference call."
"Got it," he yells back. "How long is the call?"
"Should take about an hour."
We hear him go in the office and shut the door.
Jackson smiles at me. "Is an hour enough?"
"Should be."
