Chapter Seven
SEVEN
DEER
T he scent of sage, cedarwood, and a hint of something slightly sweet cocoons me. It smells comforting. Safe.
I nuzzle my face farther into the soft pillow and bring my legs close to my chest as I hover in that in-between state of sleep.
Sleep .
I finally slept. I don’t know for how long, but I can tell in my bones that it’s more than the two hours I’ve been getting for the last few weeks. The second my head hit the pillow, it was like I blacked out—a total body shut down that I had no control over.
Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation catching up to me. Maybe it’s the change of scenery. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it. Not that I’m telling Jackson that. He doesn’t need his ego fed, not after he successfully managed to pull me from my apartment.
I knew the second I opened that door to him that I had lost the battle. He has a solid fifty pounds of muscle and an entire foot on me; fighting him was pointless.
That’s the only reason why I agreed to leave.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. It’s not like I actually didn’t feel safe in my apartment anymore. It’s not like I wanted to escape. And it’s definitely not like I was looking for someone to take my choice away and force me to listen to rationality. Nope. I have too much pride to admit that.
I throw my arms and legs wide like a starfish and stretch before throwing the dark charcoal sheets off my body and slipping off the bed. My feet slap against the cold floorboards as I make my way into Jackson’s en suite. My giant makeup bag rests on the counter, and I dig through it for my loose toothbrush.
I pause, examining the bags under my eyes and the sallow color of my skin.
Okay, maybe I’d been a little too hopeful that just one night of rest would act like a magic potion.
I still look like death warmed up.
However, it is nothing a little makeup can’t fix. Or a lot…
I hum to myself as I go about my routine, donning my sparkly eyeshadow, white eyeliner, and bright cotton candy blush before popping in my blue contacts.
Finally, the reflection looking back at me is human.
My gamer persona is my safe space. Deer is a blanket I wrap around myself, one of sunshine and rainbows and laughter. She is a functioning human when I can’t be.
I head back into Jackson’s bedroom and yank open my suitcase. The lid thunks against the floor loudly and I cringe, my eyes darting to the door. It didn’t sound like anyone was awake, but how would I know?
I sift through my clothes, frowning and kicking myself that I didn’t pay more attention to what Lee threw in here. It’s a weird mishmash of stuff.
After I empty half the contents onto the floor, I settle on a comfy outfit of a pink pleated tennis skirt with built-in shorts and a white athletic tank top before plucking my phone from the nearby charging station.
I’m not too shocked to see that it is almost two in the afternoon.
My heart drops when I see the litany of texts from Rick, worry weaving its way through my veins that something else with the Deer Hunters has cropped up.
RICK: Are u okay?
RICK: Seriously??
RICK: The police said the swatting issue was dealt with but ur location shows u on the move at almost two?
RICK: R u safe? Do u need help??
RICK: I see ur at The System’s place – pls text me when u see this so I know ur fine
My heart calms when I see that it’s just him being concerned and has nothing to do with anything shitty.
ME: hey! sorry!!!!
ME: I’m crashing with the guys .
ME: my place doesn’t feel safe…
I bite my lip at the admission. I would never tell anyone else this, but Rick knows me, he cares about my security and my brand first. That’s why he is my main mod and basically a personal assistant at this point. Seriously, he’s the one who deals with everything—like my P.O. box nightmares. I don’t need to open another letter that contains a used condom.
RICK: thanks for letting me know
RICK: I’ll schedule accordingly. Need anything?
ME: I’m good for now – ty!
I click my phone off and pad over to slowly crack open Jackson’s door, keeping an ear out for any noise. The last thing I want right now is to come face-to-face with either Stevie or Aleks—I don’t want to have to explain myself or how I ended up here.
When silence greets me, I take a few tentative steps out into the hallway. I let my feet lead me into the main area of the apartment, squinting at the light flooding in from the floor to ceiling windows.
The System has a gorgeous penthouse. It’s an open layout, with the kitchen, living room, and dining room all bleeding into one another. There’s a door on the south wall that leads to a massive outdoor space complete with a faux firepit, and there’s an alcove built into the north wall that houses a ninety-inch TV connected to a bunch of gaming consoles. The apartment is minimalistic, decked out mostly in tasteful neon signs and video game memorabilia.
It's surprisingly neat for three guys.
I’m ninety percent sure they have a cleaning crew.
I trek across the cool black tiles to the kitchen in search of something to tide over my rumbling stomach when my eyes snag on a Post-it note stuck to the fridge. My name is written in loops and below it is a note instructing me that there are waffles inside and to heat them up for exactly two minutes.
I wouldn’t have pegged Jackson as a cursive man.
I pull open the fridge and pause, noting a bunch of Tupperware stacked up with premade meals. Sitting smack in the middle is a plate of what looks to be homemade blueberry waffles covered in plastic wrap.
I guess that’s what the sweet smell was when I woke up.
I place them in the microwave for one minute and fifty-five seconds before practically climbing onto the counter to grab a mug from the cupboard. I pop a pod into the espresso machine and then take way too long trying to locate the silverware drawer. By the time I sit my ass onto the chair and take a bite of the warm, sugary waffles, I’m exhausted all over again.
My body is definitely run into the ground, and my stomach gives up halfway through the first waffle, rejecting the idea of any more food in its dilapidated state.
I slip from the stool, dropping my plate into the dishwasher, and carry my bitter coffee outside.
The early spring breeze whips my hair in a flurry of pink around my face, but I relish the feeling of the world moving around me. My elbows dig into the top of the glass panels fencing in the patio as I slump forward and close my eyes, turning my face up to the sun. I take in the deepest breath imaginable, inhaling the cool air so it fills every crevice in my lungs.
I want to cry.
Reality and everything in between comes crashing down around me. The fear that sliced into my bones and threatened to flay me open when I received that call from the cops last night resurfaces. I finally accept that maybe, just maybe , things aren’t as peachy as I’m trying to gaslight myself into thinking they are.
But I don’t cry, despite the sharp sting behind my eyes.
I haven’t cried yet, and I’m not about to start. Those flood gates are staying locked.
“Hey.”
My lids fly open, and I jerk, spinning around and almost spilling the remains of my coffee in the process.
Jackson stands in the doorway, strong arm propped against the molding. “You look better.”
His gaze burns into me as he slowly looks me up and down, almost like he is trying to memorize every inch of my skin.
“A good night’s sleep will do that.”
And a fresh face of makeup.
I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
He hums, walking toward me.
I take a step back, but I just bump against the railing.
Jackson comes to a stop next to me, resting his forearms on the glass as he looks out across the city. His elbow is only an inch away from my own, and I can feel an electric energy vibrating between us. It is like little sparks are jumping off and hitting my skin, as if we can’t help but be connected.
I turn around, placing some space between our bodies and mimic his gaze, looking out onto the city skyline.
It’s odd to think that the man next to me is the same one who came bursting into my apartment last night.
The man with me now is the Jackson I’ve come to know; the one who speaks few words and is stoic and grumpy. The fire blazing in his eyes last night was like nothing I’d ever seen before. The control and dominance in his voice had my toes curling, and it makes me curious if maybe he’s like me—if maybe he hides more beneath the surface.
“Sooo,” I drag out, attempting to fill the silence.
“So?” His voice is deep in contrast with my own as it drawls the vowel out.
I grit my teeth together before taking a sip of my unfortunately plain coffee.
Gods, why did he have to make it so difficult sometimes?
“Whatcha been up to?”
His right brow quirks up and his eyes flick to me briefly, giving me a once over. Then he just shrugs. “Worked out. Ate. Gamed.”
“Riveting,” I deadpan.
“It’s more than you can say, Sparkles.”
My lips pucker on the nickname as my hands tighten on my mug.
What a frustrating man.
“Well, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
This time he turns to face me, and it’s everything I can do to keep my focus on the skyline.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of going back to your apartment?”
“Maybe.”
Honestly, now that I’ve left, I have no desire to go back. Sure, most—well, all—of my stuff is still there, but the thought of stepping back into the place where I’ve had my privacy completely violated sends a tsunami of unease through my gut.
My rose-tinted glasses have cracked, and there is no way for me to think of my apartment without seeing all the dangers that truly lurk in the shadows.
“You’re more stubborn than I thought.”
“Thank you.”
“Again, not a compliment.”
“Fine,” I huff, finally giving him my attention. “Then what’s your grand plan?”
“We’re setting you up with a place here.” He pushes off the glass and stalks back into the apartment.
Great .
“What are you talking about?” I call after him as I’m forced to catch up.
“Parker is putting you up in one of the vacant places here.”
“Wait, seriously?” A smile spreads across my face. I’d been thinking of moving here a few months back, but it didn’t pan out. This is totally a sign. “Do I get the friends and family discount?”
“The what?” Jackson busies himself by making a coffee at the espresso machine.
I lean against the island and watch him. “Ya know, a discounted rate for the apartment.”
“Why?”
“Syd got one.”
“‘Cause Sydney couldn’t afford it. Unlike you.” He lifts the tiny espresso cup to his lips and takes a sip. “It’s not like this place isn’t within your budget.”
“And how would you know what my budget is?”
“I’ve seen your view count.”
“Oooh. So, you do watch my videos,” I croon.
He scowls at my smile, and it just makes me want to push him more.
I pad over to him and lean into his space, blinking up at him innocently. “Are you a secret fanboy? Do you have a shrine to me hidden away somewhere? Is that what’s stashed in your closet? Come on, you can be honest with me. I know I’m quite adorable.”
Jackson’s upper lip pulls back in disgust, but I steel myself, smiling even brighter as I lay a hand on his forearm.
“Don’t tell me, your guilty pleasure is playing farming sims? You like to craft teeny, little towns with those big man hands and spend late nights harvesting milk from emus when no one is looking.”
Jackson scoffs, shrugging out of my touch.
“Or maybe…” I trail off ominously, waiting until he locks eyes with me. “Maybe you just like to watch me. Is that the sort of thing you’re into?”
Instead of turning away again, like I expect him to, Jackson takes a step toward me. He cages me between his body and the island, the cool marble biting into my back. There’s a hunger that bleeds across his features, and it makes me feel like his prey.
“You couldn’t handle what I’m into.” His dark words carry the scent of coffee as he whispers them into my ear. “I suggest you don’t go looking for answers unless you want to be responsible for what you discover.”
I suddenly become all too aware of the way his body surrounds me. My mind whirls as it starts conjuring up scenario after scenario of his hands moving along my skin. All I want to know is what he hides under that silent exterior. There’s no way a guy with all those muscles and secrets isn’t concealing something darker under the surface.
Any retort I have gets lodged in my throat as he pulls back and studies my face, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Heat flushes my cheeks at his perusal. I open my mouth to say anything—literally, anything—so he doesn’t see the secret want leaking out of my eyes.
“I—” My phone rings out, vibrating against my hip, and I freeze.
“You should get that.” He throws me a wink before backing up and strolling in the direction of his streaming room.
My body immediately feels cooler without him near. The clouds fuzzing my brain start to clear, and little pockets of sunshine clarity are peeking through. I take a calming breath before swiping my phone open.
“Hey,” I chirp.
“Oh my God, where are you?” Lee’s exasperated voice fills my ear.
“Sightseeing in Barcelona.”
“Deer.”
I roll my eyes. “You know where I am. You have my location.”
“I do. The question is, why are you there?”
I groan, which is the wrong response because it just spurs her on.
“Oh God, what happened? Should I come over? I’m coming over. I can reschedule my stream.” I can hear a bunch of rustling through the speaker.
“No. It’s nothing.” I wander out of the kitchen and flop down on the big couch. “Seriously.”
“Deer. You can’t lie to me.”
Sigh.
“Okay, fine. I had another swat scare last night. Nothing happened, but it freaked me out a little.” I turn my head and stare at the trophies lining the wall, outlining their shapes with my eyes. The System really are an impressive bunch of gamers.
“That’s it. You’re moving out. I’ll pay to break the contract at your apartment if I have to.”
I smile. Lee really is my ride-or-die. There is no doubt in my mind that if I murdered someone, she would be the one rocking up to the crime scene with a bucket of bleach and latex gloves. She also has some of the best knowledge to get away with murder; we don’t watch all those crime shows without absorbing some tips and tricks.
“Thanks, but apparently English has it handled.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm, he says he’s setting me up with a place.”
“Stop. At his apartment complex?”
“Yup”
“I’m so jelly! Are you getting a discount?”
I bolt upright. “That’s what I asked, and Shield laughed at me!”
Lee begins to giggle, and I find myself joining in. The laughter bubbles out of me, lightening the weight that’s been pressing on my shoulders like a backpack filled with bricks.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t come over?”
“I’m totally fine, Lee.”
“Okay, okay. Look, I have to set up for my stream later, but keep me posted and I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hang up and fall back on the couch again, staring up at the white ceiling. The easy air Lee had created slowly starts to fade away and I’m left looking at my life—at that kernel of unease that is still festering in my gut.
I need to get my shit together.
I just have to figure out how.