Chapter 7
The rest of the week is the same.
Roderick is still insistent that I don’t need to help him with dinner, and no matter how much I try to tell him I want to, he just won’t have it.
By Wednesday, I give up on trying.
Spencer’s still quiet, and while he has yet to say a word to me, I can feel his eyes on me anytime we're in the same room.
Thankfully, Zander is still Zander. He seems to be the only one who hasn’t changed, but he’s also busy catching up on work that he put off when I first moved in.
He's playing catch-up at both their clubs and at his garage now because of it. That means I mostly see him at night before he falls asleep, either in my bed or his, usually while mid-conversation. And while cuddling with him is nice and can be comforting, he’s usually gone when I wake up, which only makes the loneliness I’ve tried so hard to push away feel that much worse.
I talked to Trent after weight training on Monday when he walked me to my English class, and he seems to think things will go back to normal, eventually.
I tried to explain how things were off, and while he understood why it was throwing me off, he also helped me understand why the guys might be different.
I’m Froggie. Which isn’t a big deal to me, but it probably is for them.
For years they’ve been working up the ranks to be in the position they’re in now, only to realize they’ve been housing their boss and treating her like every other person, worse than that in Spencer's case. Trent thinks that my reputation has a lot to do with it, but the guys knew about my past before. They knew I was no stranger to violence, so I don’t understand what putting a title on it would have changed.
When I told him as much, he laughed. “Before, you were a badass. Now it’s like someone showed them the boogeyman is real after years of them fearing it; just give them time.”
I asked him why he wasn’t weirded out because if they were, it would make sense for Trent to be as well. He’s a cop, for fuck’s sake. If anyone should be wary of me, I’d think it would be him.
“I don’t know, honestly. When Kratos first called us into the office, I almost left.
I’d given up the idea of gang life a long time ago, and knowing something like that screamed being in it to me.
But when I thought of leaving you, I couldn’t do it.
All I could picture was you with that fucking stab wound, bleeding, and all alone in Kratos's office, waiting on us. I went from ready to leave to ready to get it over with.”
He runs a hand through his hair, properly musing it and making himself look even more adorable.
“To be completely honest, I was kinda relieved. The whole thing’s been strange not knowing who's at the top, who we answer to. It was like working for a ghost. But with it being you, I feel like the city’s in better hands than I thought before.
” He explained with a shrug. If only I could get the guys on his line of thinking.
“Not to mention, the guys are fucked, and that’s always a win in my book.
” He wouldn’t explain what he meant by that, but it felt like a joke I didn’t get.
All week I’ve been with either Hazel or Trent. The guys aren’t exactly pulling away from me, but they aren’t going out of their way to keep me around. The only one who cares is Zander, and so long as I’m home when he gets home, he couldn't care less who I’m with before that.
Now it’s Friday afternoon, and I’m sitting alone in my room reading once again.
Don’t get me wrong, the room’s perfect. Better than anything I could have dreamed of, even when I was little, and my imagination could still think of such ridiculous things.
But I’m bored. I can’t think of a time in my life when I had nothing to do.
I’ve always been moving, thinking, planning, or training.
It’s just who I am, who I needed to be to stay alive.
Now I go to class, work out, train, explore, and sit around, and the sudden shift has me restless.
I’ve paced my floor so many times I’ve lost count at this point. My coffee sits cold and forgotten on my nightstand while I flip through my seventh book this week. But no matter how good this story is, I can’t seem to stop pacing, can’t sit, can’t relax, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
I’m driving myself crazy
Snapping the book closed, I toss it on my bed, where it bounces before it settles.
I look at it for a moment and contemplate taking a nap before I push the thought away.
I’ve been getting more sleep these last few weeks than I have in a long time.
If I nap, it’s only because I’m bored, not tired, and that's the biggest waste of time I can think of.
Fuck, how do people just live every day?
Surviving is easy; you have to do it. But to just live, ugh, I need an instruction manual or a fucking hobby.
My stomach rumbles loudly, pulling me from my mental spiral. I guess eating is a good use of time.
Headed out of my room and down to the kitchen, I try to decide if I want just a snack or something more filling. Shit, did I eat lunch today?
Stealing a glance out the windows in the foyer on my way down, I see that the sun’s just setting, which means it’s close to dinnertime. That explains my hunger, but no matter how much I rattle my brain, I can’t remember eating lunch.
Guess a meal is more what I need right now.
Walking into the kitchen, I stop dead when I find Roderick working over a cutting board with Spencer sitting across from him at the counter. Both of them look up as I enter, and I have to remind myself to keep walking instead of standing there like an idiot.
The silence is deafening as I reach the fridge. I push down the pang of hurt I feel, realizing we're right back where we used to be when we were strangers.
They don’t owe you shit, Jade. I mentally reprimand myself.
If I hadn’t let myself get comfortable, it wouldn’t hurt, so I have nobody to blame but myself.
I grab something blindly and end up with a container of blueberries, and suddenly, a snack sounds much better. Grabbing the strawberries and some cherries as well before I close the fridge and grab a bowl.
I can feel their eyes on me as I move around the kitchen to clean the fruit before making a small fruit salad and putting the rest away. Before heading back out as quickly as I can without outright running. Just before I make it out, I hesitate at the doorway, bowl in hand.
“Did I do something wrong?” My voice was much quieter than I wanted it to be, and I asked without turning to face them.
I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to look at either of them right now.
I hate this feeling, and the only way I know how to get rid of it is to face it, but damn it, life was so much easier when I didn’t care.
I hear the knife Roderick was using clink on the counter, and the constant sound of keys clicking stops, letting me know they both heard me.
“No,” Roderick says with a sigh, and something about his voice is tight in a way that it hadn’t been just last week.
Fuck.
I nod, and this time, I actually do run from the room on my way back to mine.
I don’t even remember going up the stairs, but the moment I’m back in my room, I shut the door, put my back on it, and slide down to sit on the floor. Setting the bowl of fruit next to me haphazardly, a few berries spill out onto the floor. Not that it matters now. My appetite is gone.
Roderick can say no all he wants, but something’s wrong, and this whole house is suffocating where it used to feel like freedom.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back, bumping hard against the door while I push it all away and look for the numbness and strength I’ve used to survive for all these years.
Two minutes, I let myself be upset for two minutes before I push back up off the floor, abandoning the bowl and going for my phone.
I need to get out of this house.
Scrolling through my list of contacts, which isn’t huge, but is more than I ever thought I’d have, I debated who to call.
I hover over Trent’s number for a moment before I think better of it.
He might say my past and my position don’t bother him, but it’s also not wise to pull him further into my life.
Not only because he’s a cop, but because he makes me feel normal, and I’m not.
I can’t be until this is done, and until then, I need to distance myself.
I should be gathering information. Instead, I plop down on my bed in defeat.
The problem with being on the outside is that I don’t know how to get what I need out here. It’s easy to get intel when you’re on the inside; shit, most men give it just for the ability to gloat.
I sit up so fast I almost fly forward off the bed as an idea forms, and I blindly grab my phone.
I click on Hazel’s contact and send her a text to see what she’s up to as a smile slowly breaks across my face.
I just needed to shut this crap out, and now I’m back in business.
Her reply comes back quickly, letting me know she’s not doing anything.
I shoot her back a text, asking if she’d want to hang out and do something with me as I get up and head toward my closet for something cute to wear.
I’m going through my clothes when she messages back and lets me know Trent can pick me up in about twenty minutes.
Shit.
I forgot Hazel doesn’t drive yet. I’ll have to be careful what I decide to wear. I might be able to sneak past the guys, but Trent will be in the car with me. There's no way he won’t be tipped off if I show up dressed up.