Lou’s reaction is immediate. Her shoulders square, her expression hardening.
“Jackson,” she says, like the name leaves a bad taste. She steps closer to me. Protective.
“Don’t leave,” Carrson says, his attention finally returning to me. “Not with anyone. Not for anything.”
I glare at him. “You don’t get to decide that,” I snap. “You don’t get to put your hands on me like that and—”
“Enough.”
My mouth snaps shut. Not because I want it to. Because his expression makes it hard to keep going.
Up close, I can see it now. The anger is there, but there’s more.
Fear.
I frown, thrown by it, but the moment passes too quickly for me to grab onto it.
“You’re staying here,” he says, quieter but no less firm.
My hands ball into fists on my hips. “I’m not one of your brothers,” I bite out. “You don’t get to order me around.”
“Becky.”
He says my name differently now. Less angry. Strained in a way I haven’t heard before. His gaze holds mine. “I don’t have time to explain,” he says in a low voice meant only for me, and for the first time I hesitate.
He steps back, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between us.
“Watch her,” he tells Lou.
Then he turns and walks out.
No looking back.
Silence falls as the door shuts behind him, way too quiet for how many people arein the room.
I turn back to Lou and the other sorority sisters, suddenly remembering that I’m wearing Carrson’s T-shirt and nothing else.
“Hi.” I raise my hand and give a small, awkward wave. “I’m Becky.”
Chapter nineteen
Run
Becky
I know he’s there before I step into the clearing. I can hear him, the knives hitting the tree, metal against wood, the hollow crack of it. It doesn’t belong out here, not in a placethis quiet.
The woods swallow most sound, press it down into damp earth and leaf rot, but this refuses to stay buried. Each impact breaks through the stillness until I’m anticipating it, waiting for the next hit before it comes.
I follow it.
The path narrows the deeper I go, branches crowding in until they brush my shoulders, catching at my sleeves, dragging lightly over my skin like they’re trying to stop me. The air changes too, cooler, heavier, like I’ve crossed into a different realm, set apart from the real world. At the edge, the trees form a rough circle, their branches leaning inward as if they’ve closed ranks. Guarding him.
I try to keep quiet and sneak up on him. I don’t know why. Maybe because I like his expression when he’s surprised. Of seeing him slip, a crack in his control. It feels worth chasing.
I fail.
He’s already waiting for me when I step into the clearing, shirtless as usual, leaning casually against the tree with one shoulder braced against the scarred bark. A knife balances on its point against his fingertip. The blade perfectly steady in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
