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As the days pass, I try to get more information out of Mom about Jax, but she won’t talk about it. The first time I bring it up, she tells me she has to get ready for work, leaving her toast untouched on the table. The second time, she snaps at me. The third time, she yells,“I don’t want to talk about him. Why do you keep bringing it up?”
I spend my days feeling like I’m walking through a dream or a nightmare. Nothing changes in my day-to-day existence. I go to school, work on my book, and try to live my life, but each time I pick up my phone, I have to push down the shiver of excitement and anticipation, telling me there might be a text from Jax waiting for me.
I’ve almost texted him countless times. I was so stressed that night after taking care of Mom for hours. Backing out seemed like the only option. Jax must agree we made the right choice, or he would’ve texted me by now.
“Right, what is it?” Natasha says as we leave our Victorian literature class together.
“What’swhat?”
She nudges me gently with her shoulder. “What’s making you so grouchy? Is it about him?”
She doesn’t have to tell me who she’s talking about. He’s the man who’s made a home in my mind—not just a home but an entire estate with several annexes and large swathes of land. Heownsmy mind.
We walk toward the park without discussing it, the sun shining as though mocking me. The world is so bright, but this dark dread won’t quit inside.
“I told him we had to end it unless he explained what happened with him and Mom,” I murmur.
“Iknewsomething was up,” Natasha replies. “You’ve been moping all week.”
“I’m sorry for being so snappy. This is what I wanted or the path I chose, but he accepted it way too easily. It’s not fair, expecting him to fight for us whenI’mthe one who cooled things off, but it still hurts.”
We sit on the bench as students pass us. I know I’m in a bad mood when one man laughs, and I want to scream at him that it isn’tthatfunny, whatever he’s laughing at. It can’t possibly be.
“So why don’t you message him?” Natasha asks.
“We’ll be back at square one if I do that. I’ll still be betraying Mom. I’ll still have no idea what happened. That doesn’t get me anywhere.”
“And he won’t tell you?”
“He promised Mom he wouldn’t. That meanssomethinghappened. If it was something he thought I could deal with, I think he’d tell me. I think they slept together. Maybe more than once. I don’t know why he pursued me after that, bu—”
“Slow down, Zoey,” Natasha interrupts. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
“Too late,” I say, laughing darkly.
“I wish there was a simple way out of this. I don’t know what to tell you, but Idoknow you won’t be able to let this go. Throughout high school, you had no interest in boys. So I thought,Okay, maybe at college she might start dating. Nothing. Then Jaxson comes along, and you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Really?”
She smiles. “You’ve got this spark when you talk about him. You seem more hopeful, somehow.”
“Yeah, but the future I hoped for is impossible, so there’s no point dwelling on it.”
“He might text you.”
“We’re going in circles,” I murmur. “Even if he did—which he isn’t going to—what then? What’s the next step?”
Natasha groans, fiddling with one of her many bracelets. “If I were you, I’d message him. I wouldn’t be able to live like this. I know it’s wrong, but it’s difficult for me to watch. To me,how upset you are and how much you’re suffering is wrong.”
I snatch my phone when it vibrates in my pocket.
“I never thought I could hate an ad for pizza,” I say, reading the text, “but there’s a first time for everything.”
“You just grabbed your phone like a man in a Western going for his gun,” she says. “If that isn’t proof you want to see him again…”
“Of course, Iwantto see him again. Of course I—”
When my phone buzzes, I snatch it from my pocket, ready to hurl it into the pond, but my heartbeat flutters. My lips twitch into an unfair smile. I read his name at the top of the message, savoring it.
