Chapter 20
I knew it was Jackson, but I wanted Braden to confirm it. Now that he has, I’m even more worried about getting caught. What would Braden do to me if he found out? What would he do to Jackson?
“You missed the house,” Braden says as I drive right past it.
“Shit.” I slow down. “I’ll turn around.”
I pull into a driveway, then realize we’re at Jackson’s house.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Braden yells.
“Turning around,” I say, playing innocent. “Why are you freaking out?”
“This is Jackson’s fucking house!”
“The guy you hate lives here? Just down the street from us?”
“Yes,” he says, his jaw tight. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
“I am. Just hold on.”
As I put the car in reverse, I notice the garage door opening.
“Fuck,” Braden says, lowering in his seat like he’s hiding.
“What?”
“He’s right fucking behind us.”
Glancing back in the mirror, I see the black Range Rover. What is Jackson doing home? I thought he was at practice.
“Tell me he’s not getting out,” Braden mutters.
“He’s getting out,” I say, watching as Jackson hops out of the Range Rover and saunters over to Braden’s side of the Porsche, a smug grin on his face.
“Back the fuck up,” Braden says to me.
“I can’t. He’s got me blocked in.”
Jackson is beside Braden’s window now, staring down at him.
Braden sits up straight and lowers his window.
Jackson gives him a smug smile. “Well, look who we have here. Wasn’t expecting you to stop by.”
“Just move your fucking car,” Braden mutters.
Jackson leans down to the window and peers inside. “And who is this?” He nods in my direction. “New girlfriend?”
“None of your damn business.”
“You new here?” he asks me.
“Yeah.” I glance at him. “Just moved here from New York.”
“And you already hooked up with him? That’s too bad.”
“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” Braden says. “She’s my cousin.”
“Your cousin, huh?” Jackson smiles at me. “What’s your name?”
“Rumor,” I say.
Braden bolts up, turning to block me from Jackson. “Stay the fuck away from her!”
“Relax,” Jackson says, still smiling. “I’m just saying hello.”
“Move your fucking car or I’m calling the cops,” Braden says.
“For what? Trespassing on my property? Good idea. Go ahead and call them.”
Braden’s jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath from his nose, just like Brock does when he’s mad.
Someone honks. “What’s going on?” a girl yells.
We all look back and see Kristen pulling up behind Jackson’s Range Rover.
“Be there in a minute,” Jackson yells back at her. He smiles at Braden. “Looks like we have a traffic jam.”
“We wouldn’t if you’d move your fucking car,” Braden says.
“Is that your girlfriend?” I ask Jackson, wanting to know what he’ll say with Braden here.
“Depends on who you ask,” Jackson says, eyeing Braden.
“Go to hell,” Braden spits out.
“Jackson, what’s going on?” Kristen says, walking up to him. She’s wearing a cute yellow sundress that matches her blonde hair, and thick wedge heels that make her a few inches taller.
“Found this in my driveway,” Jackson says, pointing to Braden.
She gasps. “Braden. I didn’t know it was you. What happened to your car?”
“Got a new one.”
She glances at it. “It’s nice.”
He looks away, like he can’t even stand the sight of Kristen with Jackson.
“We should move so they can leave,” Kristen says, wrapping her arm around Jackson’s.
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes on Braden. “We probably should.”
“See you at school next week,” Kristen says to Braden. She leans down to look at me. “Sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Rumor,” I rush to say, hoping she’ll leave before telling Braden I’ve been here before. With just a few words, she could ruin everything.
“Let’s go,” Jackson says, pulling her away.
They return to their cars and park on the street while I slowly back out of the driveway.
“I fucking hate that guy,” Braden mutters.
“Yeah, he’s an ass. I can’t believe he blocked us in like that.”
Braden looks at me. “How’d you know Kristen?”
“What?” I ask, my heart beating faster.
“Kristen acted like she knew you. Have you met her before?”
“Yeah. At school. I went to get my books and she was there.”
“What about Jackson?”
“What about him?”
“Ever meet him before?”
“No.” I nervously laugh. “When would I have met him?”
Why would Braden ask me that? Did I act like I knew Jackson? I didn’t think I did, but maybe my acting skills could use some work.
We’re at the house now, and I park in front, then turn the engine off.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” I say, “I think I did see him one day when I was out walking. I didn’t know that’s where he lived.”
“I fucking hate it. I keep telling my dad we need to move but he won’t do it, which is stupid because he doesn’t even live here. Trystan and I should be the ones deciding where we live.”
Braden gets out of the car and slams the door. I follow behind him to the house.
“Do you know that girl?” I ask as we go inside. “The one with Jackson?”
“Kristen Reynolds,” he says. “As in the Reynolds.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, following him to the kitchen.
“It means she’s loaded. Like a hundred times richer than us. Maybe a thousand. Who the fuck knows? Point is, she’s filthy rich.” He opens the fridge and takes out a protein drink.
“Did you go out with her?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you think I went out with her?”
I shrug. “Trystan said everyone at Twisted Pine has dated each other. I just assumed you’d gone out with her.”
“Yeah,” he says with a humorless laugh. “We went out.” He chugs his protein drink, then tosses the bottle in the trash. “I’ll be in my room.”
“Braden, wait!” I run after him.
“What?” he says, sounding annoyed.
I was going to ask him about my dad but decide not to.
He’s still angry about Jackson and Kristen showing up.
This isn’t the time to question him about my dad.
I need to ask him when he’s in a good mood.
And after we’ve spent more time together.
If I can get him to like me even a tiny bit, maybe he’ll tell me what his dad won’t.
There’s a good chance Braden knows where my dad is or knows how to find out.
“Never mind,” I say.
Braden goes upstairs to his room. I hear his door slam, then music turning on, blaring so loud the neighbors can probably hear.
Back in my room, I check my phone for any messages from Axl. I asked him this morning when we could talk, and all he said was later. I’m not sure what that means. He usually works the morning shift on Saturday, so he should be home by now.
I can’t wait to tell him the news. I already bought his plane ticket but didn’t want to tell him until I had him on the phone.
He’s going to be so excited that we get to see each other next weekend.
He thought we’d have to wait until Thanksgiving.
I would’ve found a way to see him sooner than that, but I didn’t think it’d be next weekend.
Who knew finding Brock cheating on his girlfriend could result in so many benefits?
No more curfew, and I get to see my boyfriend.
I call Axl, my heart beating faster as I wait for him to pick up. I hope he answers. I’m too excited to wait any longer. I have to tell him.
“Hello?” a voice answers. It’s not Axl’s voice. It’s a girl.
“Sorry, I must have the wrong number,” I say, ending the call.
What the hell? I look at my list of calls. It says I just called Axl. Did his number get messed up when I got my new phone? I check the number assigned to his name. It’s the right number.
I call again.
The girl answers. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Yeah. I’m looking for Axl.”
“He’s talking to a friend. He’ll be back in a minute.”
“Who’s this?” I ask, my heart pounding, but now it’s from anger, not excitement.
“Babe, what are you doing?” I hear someone say. It almost sounded like Axl, but the voice was distant, so it’s hard to tell.
“Someone keeps calling,” the girl yells.
“I told you not to answer!” He sounds closer now, and I swear it’s Axl’s voice.
Why is he with a girl? And why is she answering his phone? He never lets anyone answer his phone. He won’t even let me answer it.
“Hello?” I say, but there’s nobody there. They hung up.
I call right back, struggling to breathe because my heart’s beating so fast.
“Pick up, pick up,” I say, pacing the floor as his phone rings. It goes to voicemail. “Shit.”
I toss my phone on the bed and take deep breaths, still pacing the floor.
I’m sure it’s not what I’m thinking. He’s probably at work. The girl is probably the new employee they hired. She picked up his phone because . . .
I stop pacing, trying to think of a reason she’d pick up his phone.
Maybe he was with a customer. And he left his phone somewhere. But why was he calling her babe? He only calls me that.
I inhale a deep breath, then pick up my phone to text him. But as I’m texting, my phone rings. Axl’s name lights up the screen.
“Axl?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry about earlier.”
“What happened? Why was some girl answering your phone?”
“I left it on the table when I was talking to a friend. You remember Hastings?”
Darryl Hastings was a guy who went to middle school with Axl. They were good friends until Darryl moved away.
“What about him?” I say, wishing he’d hurry up and tell me about the girl.
“I ran into him today and shit, the guy’s huge. Must’ve gained a couple hundred pounds. And he’s like six-seven now.”
“So who was the girl?” I ask.
“Just a friend. Anyway, Hastings might be moving back here. His parents divorced and his dad’s back in New York. If he moves in with his dad, we’ll be able to hang out again.”
“That’s great. So about the girl. How’d you meet her?”
“At work. She bought a guitar from me. She’s in a band.”
“And you guys started hanging out, or what?”
“Tell me about you. What’s been going on?”
He didn’t answer my question. Did he not hear me, or is he dodging the question?
“Not much,” I say. “I went out to lunch with a friend.”
“What friend?”
“Shayla. I’ve told you about her. She’s the maid’s daughter.”
“Yeah, I remember.”