She says, “I already told you I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen him before.”
“You must think I’m so fucking stupid.”
She’s crying now. “Dad, I don’t know who he is.”
“Tell me his fucking name!”
I glance at Jax again. This is escalating fast.
“Let me look online or something. He plays hockey. Number 39—”
My eyes cut to Jax.
That’s his jersey number.
What the fuck did he get himself into?
A loud thud. Something heavy hits the floor.
Jax moves quickly, glancing through the window.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Lily. Who the fuck are you spreading your legs for? Tell me his fucking name!”
Footsteps. Struggling. Something crashes.
Jax stays at the window. Then he shifts, moving to the other window. The one with a crying young girl.
I follow. My knees are burning from all the crouching.
A door slams inside, and then a light flickers on.
Jax stands at the window. Just stands there, staring in.
I grab his arm, pulling him down. But he yanks free of my hold.
If he’s standing where he can see her, so am I.
I straighten up, my knees cracking as I do.
Through the window, I see long black hair falling in a sharp V to her tailbone. Athletic build. Shoulders pulled tight.
A loud bang fills the room, but she doesn’t flinch.
“Open this fucking door!”
The younger girl—Zinnia—walks up and holds her tight.
“I don’t know who he is! I haven’t seen him before. I need you to believe me!”
Jax ducks, pulling me down with him.
He pulls out his keys and hands them to me. Then he points behind the house.
I nod. He wants me to meet him around the block with his car.
I stay low, duck under the windows and run until I hit the sidewalk. Then I pull my hoodie up and walk. I keep it casual. Just a guy out for a late-night stroll.
I get to his car, unlock it, and slide into the driver’s seat.
