35. Blakely
THIRTY-FIVE
Blakely
Monday is my new favorite day.
After going this weekend without seeing Jackson, I’m vibrating with excitement to get to Donahue Motors, just to be around him. Plus, Mondays are mine. The one night I’ve negotiated with Sierra to have all to myself. No putting on a show. No doing or being anything. Just me, my sweats, and a movie, staying as far away from social media as possible.
Because in reality I don’t really enjoy it.
I’ve never told a soul that, and I don’t think I ever will. Even thinking it feels like I’m spitting in the face of the very platforms that have made my career. Social media is the reason why I’ve been able to avoid being known as just another socialite with a fat bank account and a strong last name.
But Mondays are for me.
And now they’re for me and Jackson.
Originally, I was planning on having him over to my place. It’s easier that way—no one is ever around, and I don’t have to involve Lennox in my secrets. But my father has suddenly decided to be a homebody, and while I’m sure it won’t last, I don’t want to take the risk of him seeing Jackson. So that leaves me with two choices.
One: I can sneak out again.
Two: I can go to Lennox and plead for his silence. For his loyalty.
Both options make queasiness churn in my gut.
The nausea strengthens when I knock on the door of Lennox’s cottage, at the back of our estate, my fingernails tearing into the palm of my hand.
The door swings open. “What?” he snaps.
I step back, shocked at his clipped tone. What the hell?
His eyes focus in on me and his face smooths, a blank mask dropping over the rage that was just pouring from his eyes.
“Hi.” I smile.
He scans the area behind me before jerking his head, opening the door wider for me to walk inside.
I look around, noting the minimalism of everything, wondering why in the eight years that he’s been with me, I’ve never seen his place. Never taken the time to get to know him beyond what he can do for me.
My eyes snag on brown shelves housing what must be hundreds of books. My legs carry me over before I can think twice, my fingers ghosting across the titles.
I can’t even remember the last time I read a book.
“Don’t touch those.” His voice is sharp.
My heart stutters as I spin around, raising my hands in the air. “Sorry, I was just curious is all.”
His jaw tics while he stares me down, like he knows I’m not here to get to know him but because I want something from him.
And as I stare back at him, a knot lodging itself in my throat, I realize maybe he’s looking at me that way because he doesn’t know to expect anything else.
Have I always been so blind to other people?
“What do you need?” he asks.
I swallow, suddenly feeling guilty over why I’m here—what I’m about to ask him. But seeing Jackson overwhelms my need to suddenly have a conscience about my shortcomings, so I breathe in deep and shoot my shot.
“I need a favor.”
His brow lifts.
My stomach tightens, nerves skittering along my spine. “I have somewhere to be tonight, and I just…I’m trying to respect you and not sneak away again, but in order to do that, I need to know I’ll have your discretion.”
His arms cross over his chest, his eyes never moving from mine.
It’s unnerving, the way he stands so still.
“No,” he finally says.
My heart sinks. “No to the discretion? Or…”
“No to you going at all.”
I scoff. “I wasn’t asking your permission to go . I’m leaving with or without you.”
His eyes flare.
It’s an empty threat. I doubt I’d be able to escape from Lennox if I tried, but the way he’s acting like a warden instead of a bodyguard has irritation snapping at my insides, the need to prove I’m independent wrapping around my chest and squeezing.
My life has never felt like a prison before.
Once again, my direction seems muddled, my compass spinning in circles.
Emotion swells behind my eyes, and even though I try to hold it back, a tear slips through the cracks, falling down my face.
Lennox sighs, his hands running over his face. “ Fine . Just…” He pauses, walking closer until he’s towering over me. “Promise me you’re being safe.”
I cringe, heat flooding my cheeks. “I promise.”
He nods. “I’ll take you there and wait in the car.”
My lips purse. “Can you drop me off and come back when I call?”
His nostrils flare, his judgment searing into me.
Lennox isn’t stupid, and it would be an insult to pretend that he is. He knows exactly where I want to go and exactly who I want to be with. My breath sticks in my throat, hoping that he doesn’t put up a fight.
He gives a short nod and relief pours through me, a smile lighting up my face as I throw my arms around him for a hug.
He stiffens, but it only makes me grip him tighter. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He clears his throat, awkwardly patting my back, before he grips my shoulders and pushes me away. “Don’t make me regret it, Blakely.”
“I won’t.” I beam. “I’ll be ready to go in half an hour.”
Skipping out of his front door, I head back to my place, texting Jackson to let him know I’ll be there soon. And that once I get there, I’m not leaving.
Jackson made dinner.
Of course he did.
A knot grows in my stomach, wondering why I didn’t think of the fact that this is going to be an issue between us.
I push the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there, my mind in turmoil over how to bring up the fact that if this is going to work with us, he needs to take my lifestyle choices seriously. That means stick to my prepped meals or having me pre-approve whatever he makes.
God, that sounds ridiculous.
He’s chewing slowly, an inquisitive look in his eyes as he watches me from across the table.
“Not hungry?” He nods toward the burger and fries on my plate.
I shrug, nerves prancing around in my gut. “Not really.”
Right on cue my stomach growls. Heat rushes into my face and I lower my gaze.
“Mmhmm,” he hums, wiping his hands and leaning forward. “Talk to me, Blake. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I just…you should have asked me if I could eat this.” I gesture toward the plate, cringing at how the words come out. “You know I’m strict with what I eat, and it’s something that’s important to me. I can’t have any of this.” My hand waves over the food.
He nods slowly. “Do you want me to make you something else?”
I sigh. “No, I have some snacks in my bag. I’ll just go grab something in a bit.” I remove the avocado from the burger and take a big bite just for show. “The avocado is great, though.”
His eyes narrow and I fidget under his stare. Why is he looking at me like that?
A phone rings from somewhere in the house, the sound jerking me from his gaze. “Do you need to get that?”
He shakes his head, his attention still on me. “It’s probably my mom. I’ll call her back.”
“Oh.” I cock my head, realizing he doesn’t really talk about her. That in reality, I don’t actually know much about him. Here I am thinking I’m in love and I haven’t even taken the time to know about his life.
I rest my elbows on the table, propping my chin in my hand. “What’s she like?”
He smiles. “She’s the best. Charismatic. Hard worker. You know…the usual.”
“No.” I swallow. “I don’t.” Sadness slinks through my chest.
His eyes grow heavy, his head angling to the side. “I guess that’s right. Tell me about your mom.”
I shrug. “You know about as much as me.”
His brows draw in. “I highly doubt that.”
“You’ve seen the pictures on the wall.” I take a bite out of the burger just to do something with my hands—to have something under my control, because my insides suddenly feel like a storm is ripping through it, tearing up everything in its path.
The juicy flavor of the meat hits my tongue and I pause, my eyes closing as I groan at the taste.
Oh my god. So good.
“Jesus, princess. I’m gonna feed you burgers every day if you sound like that when you eat them.”
My eyes snap open, the burger dropping from my hands, guilt slamming its way through me.
Breathing deeply, I count to three.
It was just one bite. No big deal .
“My mom died in childbirth,” I say, focusing on the pain of never knowing her so I don’t focus on the grease that’s coating my throat.
His lips turn down. He doesn’t apologize like most people, but then again, I wouldn’t expect him to. Jackson knows what it’s like to have fake apologies thrown at you by people who don’t know what the word truly means.
“It’s fine,” I rush out. “It’s not like…not like when you lost your dad.” I suck in a breath, hoping I didn’t cross into forbidden territory.
Jackson just nods.
“I never even knew her,” I continue. “You can’t miss something you never had.” I lift a shoulder, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“Really?” he chimes in. “Sometimes I think that makes you miss it more.”
I stay silent, my fingers pressing into my palms, trying to slam the door on my grief—keep it locked up tight and forgotten in a corner.
“You sure that phone call wasn’t your sweetheart ?” I lash out, desperate to change the subject.
Jackson’s face tightens. There are a few seconds of silence when I think he won’t respond. Or maybe he’ll tell me to get the hell out and not come back.
“Her name’s Alina.”
I nod, her name spinning like a cyclone. “Oh.”
Alina.
The muscle in his jaw tenses. “Or Lee, that’s what everyone calls her. Like I’ve told you, she’s one of my best friends, so the phone calls won’t stop, and she’ll always be in my life.”
Jealousy scorches through me, squeezing my lungs and piercing my heart. Something nasty sits on the tip of my tongue, like asking why he’s friends with someone who clearly causes him so much pain. I pull it back, realizing I have no right.
But I hate her.
She took a piece of him and is holding it hostage somewhere I can’t reach.
“And you love her,” I whisper.
He takes a sip of water and nods. “We talked about this already.”
My chest tightens. “Let’s talk about it more.”
He sighs, tossing his napkin on the table and standing, walking around to kneel at my feet. His hands squeeze my knees, sliding up until they’re gripping my thighs. My stomach burns when he gazes into my eyes and everything in me wants to pull out from under his palms. Demand that he stop loving her. That he love me instead.
But I don’t. Because out of everyone I’ve ever known, Jackson’s the only one who’s given me peace and never asked for something in return. So I push down the envy and focus on the parts of him I do have.
“Listen to me. I thought I was in love with Lee for a long time.” He shakes his head. “For years, to be honest. But what I feel for you …” He trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow.
His words, meant to be a balm to my jealousy, don’t do anything to douse the embers. “I get it.”
He chuckles. “I doubt that.” He pulls me up from my chair, his fingers tangling with mine. “I’ll explain it to you though, if you want.”
My teeth sink into my lip and I nod, knowing that if I want to love him fully, I have to love every part of him.
So I let him lead me into the living room and sit me down on the couch, preparing to hear all about his first love and all the ways she hurt him.