“She knows we’re here,” Jax says.
“Maybe.”
He runs both hands through his hair and grips the back of his neck. “I can’t do this shit anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Sit here. Watch. Do nothing.”
“We’re not doing nothing.”
“We’re not doing enough.”
I don’t have an answer for that.
The next night, we park in the same spot. Her dad’s car is in the driveway this time. Lights on in the living room.
We see Zinnia’s shadow pass by her window around eight-thirty. Bedtime.
We see Tigerlily walk past the kitchen window once. She’s carrying something—a plate, maybe. Or a cup.
And then she walks to the window and stares out.
“What is she doing?” I ask.
Jax leans forward.
Tigerlily doesn’t look scared. She looks like she’s been drained of everything that made her her and now she’s just a body moving through space.
Like a potted lily flower slowly dying from lack of sunlight.
Like a caged tiger.
“I can’t take this shit anymore,” I say.
Jax doesn’t look at me as he says, “Me neither.”
My phone buzzes. Jax’s rings a second later. The call comes through the car speakers because his phone’s connected to Bluetooth.
Callum’s name flashes on the screen.
Jax answers. “Yeah.”
“Hey, fuckers, where are you?”
I lean toward the speaker. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Callum scoffs. “What’s up, Zeffers? I’m at your place. Where the fuck are you two?”
Jax looks at me. I see the exact moment an idea hits him.
“What?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me. He turns to the phone instead. “Callum, are you up for something?”
There’s a pause on the other end. Then Callum laughs. “Stupid fucking question, Jax. I’m down for anything.”
Jax’s eyes are still on me.
