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My brows knit. “How the hell does that happen?”
“I hit too hard, and someone’s music was distracting me just enough that I didn’t move out of the way when it swung back,” he replies with a hint of annoyance.
So that explains why he was pissed off about the music. It wasn’t about needing to make a phone call.
At least, I think so.
Then his gaze zeroes in on my neck. “And maybe I should be asking you the same thing.”
My confusion deepens. “I don’t have a welt on my face, dude.”
“No, but you have one right there.” He quickly brushes his fingers along the side of my neck, startling me so badly that I jolt. “I’m pretty sure it’s not a welt. And I’m pretty sure I was right about why Jax cranked up his music.” He lowers his hand from my neck. “I’d suggest covering yourweltup before it ends up causing problems between Hunter and Jax.” With that, he walks away, heading for a room farther down the hallway.
And me? I’m bewildered.
What welt?
I hurry into my bedroom, heading straight for the mirror hanging on the closet door. When I lean in and examine my reflection, mortification washes over me. Because it’s not a welt on the side of my neck, but a hickey. Right there on my flesh, branding the moment that happened between Jax and I. Zay’s words sort of make sense now, about me covering up to avoid causing problems. He has to be referring to Hunter. But what does that mean? Why would this bother Hunter?
Worry stirs in my stomach. Jealousy is the obvious answer, but the idea that Hunter would like me like that is ridiculous, right? The big question is: how the hell am I going to cover up the hickey? I don’t have any of my makeup, and even if I did, it wouldn’t help since I don’t have concealer.
I’ll have to attempt to sweep my hair over it and be careful it doesn’t fall away. Maybe while we’re out doing all the tasks we have to do today, I can pick some up. I don’t have money, though, and I’m not about to ask the guys. What I need is my bag that I left at school. It has everything I need, including a joint. Yeah, that’d be nice right now.
I also need to get my stuff from the house. That is, if I’m allowed to move out. For all I know, my uncle will grab me and try to keep me locked up in the house. Hopefully, we can get it taken care of today, and he’ll be out patrolling the streets and pretending he’s a stand-up sheriff when really he’s a dirty cop.
And a psychopath.
It makes me wonder why in the hell my parents left me with him and my aunt. Why give them guardianship? Did they not know who he is? Was it their only option? How did I get here?
These questions flood my brain as I strip off Hunter’s shirt and reach for the T-shirt that I had on yesterday, the one I was wearing when I fell into the water. Then I put on my shorts, knee-highs, and boots, wishing I had warmer clothes. At least I have my leather jacket, which belonged to my mom.
I slip it on, preparing to go, when I notice a piece of paper by my feet. I’m not sure where it came from, but it almost seems like it fell out of my pocket. That makes no sense, since I fell into the water yesterday and any paper I had on me would’ve gotten ruined.
Confused, I pick it up and unfold it. The words written on it, in bright red ink, cause a chill to slither down my spine.
You may have escaped once, but I’m coming for you, little bird.
Little bird.
Just like the doctor used to call me.
THREE
JAX
After I get dressed in black jeans, a long-sleeve grey shirt, boots, and leather bands to hide my scars, I exit my room and hurry downstairs.
I’m chewing on my thumbnail. If Raven were by me, she’d probably make me stop doing it. And I probably should, but I’m nervous about talking to Hunter, about telling him what happened between Raven and me.
I didn’t mean for it to happen, for my lips to brush against Raven’s. Last night, though, I had a dream. Raven was in it, and we were lying underneath a tree with our fingers interlocked. We were staring up at the sky and everything had been so peaceful. Then she’d rolled onto her side and looked at me with the most beautiful smile on her face.
“What?” I’d asked, reaching up to play with her hair.
“It’s nothing. I just like looking at you, Jaxon, because I see you. Like, really see you.”
The way she said it had gotten under my skin. I felt like she could see everything—all my fear, pain, secrets, and scars. I felt so exposed and didn’t care. No, I wanted her to see me. Just like I wanted to touch her.
So, I did. Leaning up, I pressed my lips to hers. And it was so easy, so …everything.
