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I slip on my dress silently and don't say a word. Once I'm dressed, I look over at Jackson. I open my mouth to say something, but I'm not quite sure what to say.
He nods his head at the door. "Go."
Go.
That's the first thing that he's said to me since Logan died. He screws me until I can barely walk, and when he finally speaks, it's telling me to leave?
I balk. "Fuck you."
His lip curls up, baring his teeth. "Leave." He growls.
My eyes start to water. I'm not usually this much of an emotional loon, but I'm feeling all over the place mentally and Jacksonis not helping.
I stand up, grabbing my phone off the floor and leveling him with a look. "Fucking soulless bastard." I sneer.
"Fucking leave!" He squeezes his hand into a fist and pounds it into his wall, and I swear the entire trailer shakes with the force.
I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay and lash out. "You weren't even a great lay anyway." I stick up my pinky, hinting that he has a tiny dick and running out of there before I get murdered. His bedroom door slams right behind my ass, and a moment later I hear a slam of something.
Not sure what, since there is absolutelynothingin his room.
Grabbing my heels, I book it out of there. The tears start creeping up again, but I run my hand over my face to wipe them away. I was lying about Jackson not being a great lay. He was fucking phenomenal, but I'd never actually admit that to him.
Or anyone.
Fuck, I can never tell Rose.
I run to my house barefoot, wincing every time my feet run over an especially sharp pebble on the ground.
Once I get into my house, I slam the door shut and lock it, leaning up against the back of it as I calm my breathing.
Shit, I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe I slept with Jackson. Logan's best friend. The thought of Rose sleeping with Logan if something were to happen to me is so painful, I want to rip these thoughts out of my brain and stomp on them with my knock-off heels.
I feel a heavy presence in the room. Looking over my shoulder, I know I'm not going to see anyone. I've been alone in this trailer for a long time. I'm surprised it's still standing.
The feeling gets stronger.
Is it… is it Logan?
Nope.
I drop my heels on the ground and rush to my kitchen. I justcan't, mostly after what happened last night. I reach up and grab the bottle of Vodka from the kitchen cabinet and race to my bedroom, slamming the door and leaving out the feelings andthe presencethat lingers in this house like a bad fucking demon.
Leaving me alone, as usual.
With Vodka.
2
Jackson
Before
Shit.
Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck.
I don't know who hates me more. Logan, or myself. I wouldn't blame him if he dug himself out of the solid casket, crawled his way all the way to my house and tore me apart.
