Chapter 12 Jax
Chapter Twelve: Jax
Tigerlily gets in the car without looking back.
The car pulls away from the curb, and I know why she won’t look back. She’s not going to Elle’s.
“She’s going home.”
Callum turns to me. “How do you know?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Fuck!”
“Let’s follow them,” Zephyr says.
We all look at each other for half a second. Then we’re moving, racing to the car. Door’s slamming. Engine roaring to life.
Within seconds, we’re chasing after them.
“What makes you so sure she’s going home?” Callum asks from the back seat.
“They’re up there,” Zephyr says, pointing ahead.
I turn down another road.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Zephyr twists in his seat. “I thought we were following them.”
“I remember where she lives.”
Silence fills the car.
I cut through back streets. Take shortcuts. We loop around and come at it from the opposite direction—the direction they won’t come from.
I park on the side of the road. Far enough that we’re not obvious. Close enough that we can see the house.
Her house.
The Honda Pilot sits in the driveway.
“What now?” Callum asks.
Zephyr stares ahead. I stare at that fucking SUV. My hands grip the steering wheel hard. I want to run my fists through the windshield.
Ten minutes pass.
Callum sighs. His leg bounces. The whole car shakes with it. He has an endless amount of energy and zero patience.
“Can we go?” he says. “She’s not coming home.”
Zephyr and I look at each other. Then back at the house.
“We’ll wait here all night if we have to,” I say.
Callum groans.
Thirty minutes in, he won’t shut up.
“I’m just saying, if we’re gonna sit here, we might as well talk about something. Like how Rowan’s been up our asses about the Michigan game.”
“Rowan’s always up our asses,” Zephyr mutters. “That’s what captains do.”
“Yeah, but he’s extra captain-y lately. Like he thinks he’s coaching us too.”
I glance in the rearview mirror. “He’s trying to keep you from getting benched.”
“I’m not getting benched.”
“You almost got benched last week for that lazy line change.”
Callum leans forward between the seats. “I was tired.”
“You’re a winger. Your whole job is to hustle. You can’t be tired.”
“Says the guy who plays right wing like he’s allergic to the defensive zone.”
Zephyr snorts. “He’s got you there.”
I shoot him a look. “You want to talk defense? How about that turnover you gave up in the neutral zone against State?”
“That was on Nolan. He pinched when he shouldn’t have.”
“Nolan pinches because you don’t cover him.”
“I do cover him. He just thinks he’s a fourth forward half the time.”
Callum laughs. “Nolan’s problem is he watches too much NHL and thinks he’s Cale Makar.”
“More like he thinks he’s on a power play when we’re at even strength,” Zephyr says.
“Speaking of power plays,” Callum continues, “Asher almost let in that softy on the five-on-three last game. I thought Coach was gonna pull him.”
I shake my head. “Asher’s fine. That puck deflected off someone’s skate.”
“Still should’ve had it.”
“You should’ve cleared the rebound.”
“I was tied up!”
“That’s the point, Cal. You get tied up too easy. You need to be stronger on the puck.”
He sits back, offended. “I’m plenty strong on the puck.”
“You got walked by their fourth-line center.”
“Once!”
“Twice,” Zephyr corrects.
“You’re both assholes.”
I almost smile.
But then my eyes drift back to the house. The porch light is on. No movement. No sign of her.
My jaw tightens.
“Seriously though,” Callum says after a beat. “What’s the plan here? We just stare at her house all night?”
“If we have to,” I say again.
“This is ridiculous. We should have just followed her. She’s clearly not coming home.” He leans forward, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Just admit it, Jax. You were wrong.”
“Get out and walk home.”
Callum scoffs. “Hell no.”
“Good cardio.”
Zephyr checks his phone. “We’ve been here almost an hour.”
An hour. And nothing.
I hate this. I hate sitting here. I hate not knowing if she’s okay. I hate that she walked away like we were nothing. Like we couldn’t help her.
“Alright, I’m calling it,” Callum says. “She’s not coming home. Can we please go? I’m starving, and I have homework.”
“You have homework?” Zephyr turns around. “Since when do you even care, Cal.”
“Since I’m trying not to fail out of school.”
I glance at the house one more time. Then I turn the key.
“Fine.”
Callum cheers from the back seat.
We drive back to Callum’s in silence and drop him off at his place.
He leans through the window before heading inside. “Text me if anything happens.”
“Yeah.”
He jogs up to his door and disappears inside.
I sit there for a second, engine idling.
Zephyr turns to me.
“Now that we dropped off the crybaby,” he says, “want to go back?”
I look over at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Before we pull away, Callum comes jogging out the front door with our overnight bags. He throws them in the back seat and says, “Looks like you’ll need this. See ya.”
We drive back to her neighborhood. We park at the spot where we were before.
The house is dark now except for a dim light in the living room window.
Zephyr doesn’t say anything. Just leans back in his seat and stares.
We sit in the dark. Watching. Waiting.
I won’t leave until I know she’s safe.
Even if this is fucking stalking.
Even if she deliberating walked away.
I’m not going anywhere.