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I tense at the sound of a sugary sweet voice that I’ve only heard a handful of times yet I already hate. I especially hated it when it echoed around the barn earlier calling for Jackson for some reason or another, interrupting whatever moment he and I were sharing.
The sense of deflation I felt when he dropped his arms and stepped away from me as quickly as possible still lingers.
Forcing a smile, I look at Caroline where she lurks in the doorway of Jackson’s bedroom. I didn't mean to come in here; I got sidetracked on the way to the bathroom. The door was ajar, and I couldn't help myself. I had hoped for a moment alone but apparently, that was wishful thinking.
The ex-girlfriend of my ex-boyfriend steps forward. “I'm Caroline.”Oh, I know.“Jackson's... friend.”
My hand twitches at my side, itching to slap that look off her face. All coy and demure andfriendly.
That might be the red wine talking.
I hate how comfortable she looks as she saunters into his room and perches on the edge of his bed, smoothing her hands over the bedsheets, looking like she belongs. Looking at me like she knows everything. “It must be weird for you to be here.”
“Probably about as weird as it is for you.”
“Oh, it's not weird for me. I'm practically family.”
I resist the urge to snort. Yeah, I highly doubt the actual family members would agree with that statement.
Unperturbed by my lack of reaction, Caroline continues, “It's just so awful, what they're going through.”
I hum my agreement. Maybe if I don't make conversation, she'll just go away.
Again with the wishful thinking.
“I came right over here as soon as I heard. Jackson was a mess, the poor thing. Just cried in my arms for days.”
She's fishing for a reaction, I can tell by her voice, but I refuse to give her one. Fisting my hands at my side, I smile through gritted teeth. “It's nice that you were there for him.”
God, I fucking hate that smile of hers. “Well, we have history, you know. A lot of it. I knew he'd want my comfort.”
Not just comfort.Hercomfort, specifically. Like only her comfort would help him.
Bitch.
I'm about to excuse myself before I do something like, I don't know, throw her out the window, when a dramatic huff steals my attention. “You're still here?”
Because the atmosphere wasn't awkward enough, Lottie chooses this moment to darken the doorway, arms folded and that seemingly permanent grimace on her face. I assume the teenage angst is directed at me until I realize that scowl is solely focused on Caroline.
The latest object of Lottie's wrath adopts a gritty smile. “Of course I am.”
“Why?”
God, I want to laugh. Turns out, Lottie's shitty attitude is pretty damn hilarious when it's not directed at me or anyone I actually like.
Caroline's fake smile tightens. “C’mon, Lottie. I’m just tryna help.”
“Whatever.” Lottie rolls her eyes. “Jackson's looking for you.”
Caroline brightens as she gets to her feet, hastily heading for the door only to be body-blocked and scoffed at. “Not you.” Humor glitters in light eyes as Lottie jerks her head towards me. “You.”
Oh, now Ireallywant to laugh.
It’s not a competition butha. I win.
Brushing past the pair and wondering how long it’ll take before the scratching and hair-pulling begins, I hurry down the hall. Most people have cleared out by now, and it’s only my friends and the family left gathered in the living room, squashed on the sofas.
It looks—and sounds—like, everyone is following Jackson's lead and getting a little toasted. Even Eliza's cradling one of those barely alcoholic wine coolers, and looking nothing short of delighted about it. When she catches sight of me hovering in the doorway, she lifts the bottle in greeting, waving it excitedly and wiggling her brows. Beside her, Lux flicks her arm and rolls her eyes, toasting me with her bottle of water.
