So yeah. I’m here.
“Movement,” Jax says.
I sit up, following his line of sight.
The front door opens. Her dad steps out, keys in hand. He’s wearing a jacket and carrying a duffel bag.
My pulse kicks up.
“Where’s this fucker going?” I ask.
Jax leans forward, watching.
Her dad gets in his SUV, backs out of the driveway, and drives past us without even glancing our way.
The second his taillights disappear around the corner, Jax’s hand is on the door handle.
“Wait,” I say.
“No.”
I grab him. “We don’t know how long he’ll be gone.”
“I’m going.”
“Jax—”
“I’m just going to knock on the door and see if she’s okay.”
“And if Zinnia answers? What’re you gonna say?”
He hesitates. His hand doesn’t leave the door handle.
“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” I push. “What if she opens the door and freaks out because we showed up at her house uninvited?”
“She won’t freak out.”
“Barging in there isn’t gonna make it better.”
His jaw works. He’s grinding his teeth so hard I can hear it.
“We can’t just sit here anymore,” he says.
“We’re notjustsitting here. We’re making sure she’s safe.”
“From a distance. Like cowards.”
“Like people who don’t want to make her situation worse.”
He slams his palm against the steering wheel. The horn beeps once. Loud.
We both freeze.
A light flicks in the living room. It’s normally never on. It must be the two girls enjoying being home alone.
Jax releases the door handle and watches.
The curtain shifts slightly like someone’s peeking through. Then it falls back into place, but the light stays on.
