He’s wrong though. He’s wrong about Albert. I believe it of Sandrine, absolutely—she was vicious back then, a lioness who was fiercely protective of her cub.
But Albert: he would have welcomed Étienne into the pride.
Jackson would have too, if only he’d known. He’s a good person.
As my chest begins to heave again, I pull off the road and onto an asphalt lookout point. There’s only one person I want to talk to right now.
And he answers on the first ring.
“You were right about Étienne,” I say as I burst into a fresh set of tears. “Itwaspersonal. He wanted to hurt you. He was using me to mess with you. It was all a game.”
“Where are you?” Jackson demands to know.
“I’m up in the hills where Josie and Sébastien died,” I choke out.
“Are you driving?” He sounds horrified.
“No, I’ve just pulled into the lookout point.”
“Stay where you are,” he says. “I’m coming.”
He must drive like a bat out of hell because he’s with me within ten minutes. As soon as his blue BMW swings into the lay-by, I reach for my door handle. A hot gust of wind blows my hair into my face as I lurch toward him, but I don’t get more than a few paces before I’m crashing into his hard chest. His arms come around me, holding me tightly as I cry.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “It’s okay.”
I clutch hold of him as though he’s a life raft.
Have I made a terrible mistake? Is Jackson the person I should have been trying to reconnect with this summer?
I don’t know if he can read my thoughts, but the next thing I know my face is in his hands and I’m gazing up at him, into his mottled eyes. The sun is shining on his skin, highlighting his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth. His chestnut hair rustles in the wind and my head feels dizzy.
And then, after all these years, it happens. He bows his head and kisses me.
It’s a shock, but not a good one. It feels wrong. I’m not sparking with electricity as his firm lips press against mine, I’m fizzing with something unnerving.
I feel like I’m betraying Étienne.
The roar of an engine sounds out from behind me as I break away. I look over my shoulder in time to see Étienne’s GTi flying into the lay-by. He stares out of the front windscreen at us, his face riddled with shock.
I extract myself from Jackson’s grasp as Étienne gets out of the car.
“Well done,” Jackson calls over to him sarcastically, giving him a slow hand clap. “Your plan didn’t work though—she ran straight from your arms into mine.”
“Jackson!” I hiss.
Étienne’s face is ashen as he stands there, staring at us. He lookswrecked.
The wind is whipping my hair against my face. Jackson is on my left and Étienne is on my right. Whichever way I turn, it’s agony.
“I’m sorry,” Étienne says to me, and despite everything, my heart throbs with hope. “I should have come after you right away, but I needed a second to get my head together. Itisreal, Grace. What we have is real. Please believe me. I care about you.”
“It’s too late!” Jackson interrupts. He sounds victorious.
I snap my attention back to him. “Stop.”
His eyes widen as he stares at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently to Jackson. “But you and I…” I shake my head.
