“We chose this, right?” he asks.
I blink.
“We chose this life, right, Lily?” he repeats.
I nod because I don’t know what else to say. But yes, he’s right. We chose this.
He nods back.
He scratches his forehead like he’s thinking through a problem. “We did. And we have to live with it, so you know what you have to do.”
I shake my head, confused. “What do I have to do?”
“Hockey players?” he seethes. His face scrunches in disgust. Then he shakes his head. “You better end it before I do. Understand?”
My chest tightens as I nod.
“No boys, Lily. That was the deal.”
I nod again.
He stands and walks past me toward his room. “Dinner at six.”
I don’t argue. Don’t cry. Don’t ask him what he knows about the hockey players. I just stand there in the middle of the kitchen feeling like I’m being pulled apart. Fractured. Controlled. Trapped in choices that aren’t mine.
It’s been years of this. Isn’t it going to end soon? Surely, it’ll end at some point. How old do I have to be?
I pull out my phone and scroll to Callum’s contact. My finger hovers over his contact.
I think about his smile. The way he kissed me. The way he made me feel like I could be normal for a few minutes.
I think about Jax watching my house. About the cameras my dad installed that I didn’t know about. About how nothing I do is actually private.
I close my phone without texting anyone, walk to my room, close the door, and lock it.
I flop on my bed and stare at the wall.
I don’t cry.
I just do what I’ve always done when my dad’s watching—
I disappear.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Zephyr
Jax walks into the house and drops his keys on the counter. “Her dad put up more cameras.”
The words hang in the air between us. I’m sitting on the couch with my laptop open, working on a paper that’s due tomorrow, but I close it now and look up at him.
“Where?”
“Back corner of the house. Side yard. Higher angle on the driveway approach.” He rattles them off like he’s reading from a blueprint. “Professional grade. Motion sensors. Night vision.”
I lean back against the cushions and process that. Her dad’s not just being paranoid anymore. He’s building a surveillance system. Gathering footage. Evidence, maybe.
I look at Jax. He’s standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed, jaw tight. He knows what I’m thinking because he’s thinking it too.
I run a hand through my hair. “So he’s tracking us now.”
