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The only person who knows besides me is the father, and according to Lux, he's doing his best to pretend he doesn't know. I offered to slash his tires but Lux declined.
I might just do it anyway.
“I need someone neutral to know,” was her reasoning for telling me. She needed to tell someone who it doesn't directly affect, I guess. Someone who wouldn't freak out like she knows Jackson and her sisters and, Jesus Christ, her grandparents will. I'm happy to be that person, if it makes things a little easier for her. I'm happy to hold her hand at an ultrasound and suffer the leers of pervy receptionists and kind of lie to a bunch of people I care about.
She's growing an entire person in secret. The least I can do is be a shoulder for her to lean on. Or cry on. Or an ear for her to bitch to.
I’m sucking down the dregs of a strawberry milkshake—one of four Lux ordered because she claimed we needed a cover story but really, I think she just wanted McDonald’s—when we arrive back at Serenity Ranch. Both Lux and I's faces screw up when we see everyone gathered outside. It looks like they're loading up the rental, getting ready to leave.
Lux's car has barely rolled to a stop before Jackson is jogging our way. A frown on his face, he opens Lux's door and leans inside. “Where did you two go?”
“Out,” is Lux's simple reply.
“We got food,” I blurt out quickly, holding up the almost empty paper bag as proof.
Before Jackson can question us further, Lux shoves him aside so she can get out of the car, mouthing a 'thank you' my way when he's not looking.
I do the same, planning on scurrying towards the girls and using them as cover, but a tall body in my way stops me. “Hi,” Jackson greets me, an intense, unnerving look on his face.
I swallow hard. “Hey.”
“You were gone when I woke up.”
I don't like waking up alone.
I slap that ghost of a voice out of my head quickly, before I do something silly like cry. Instead, I shrug, aiming for nonchalance and hoping it hides how much sleeping in a bed with him messes me up. “I'm an early riser these days.”
He snorts in disbelief before his eyes narrow. “You turned off my alarm.”
“Thought you could use the sleep.”
Crooking a brow, he leans against the car, arms folded. “That your way of telling me I look tired?”
“You look fine.”
“Fine? Hurting my ego, sweetheart.”
“Fishing for compliments, baby?”
I think we both realize what we’re doing at the same time. The joking around. How close we are. And it's simultaneous, how we snap out of it, both take a big step back and awkwardly clear our throats.
Fuck, we’re so bad at this.
Scratching the back of his head, Jackson clears his throat again. “I'm staying here for the rest of the week but I'll be home on the weekend. Can I, uh, see you, or something? On Friday maybe?”
Shit.
“I have plans,” I reply awkwardly, hating how quickly his face drops. “A dinner thing.”
“Oh.” Something like realization crosses his face, and I don't like that I can't understand what it means. “Okay.”
Hating how quickly things became uncomfortable, I jerk my thumb towards our awaiting friends. “I have to go.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He joins me as I walk towards the truck, holds the door open as I climb inside, both pointedly ignoring the inhabitants watching us like we’re a fucking soap opera.
“Thanks for coming,” Jackson says to everyone, but he's staring right at me. Still stares when he closes the door. I swear, even when we're driving away, his gaze somehow stays trained on me.
