Chapter 32 Jax
Chapter Thirty-Two: Jax
Tigerlily walks alongside Callum toward the parking lot while Zephyr and I hang back for a second.
Callum’s asking her about her arm, how it feels, and if the pain is manageable.
But I can’t stop staring at her. Something’s off. I can feel it in my gut, watching her move through the world like everything’s normal.
She was shot by her dad three days ago and she’s walking it off like nothing happened. Like she didn’t almost die. Like the bullet didn’t tear through muscle and maybe bone and leave a hole that’s still healing.
The lesson I’m learning here is that life moves on whether you’re ready or not.
But I have a stabbing feeling that it’s not that simple. That she’s compartmentalizing. That the second the shock wears off and reality sets in, she’s going to collapse under the weight of it.
Zephyr glances at me. It’s like looking in a mirror. His jaw is tight. His eyes are tracking her every movement.
He’s thinking what I’m thinking. We can both sense something’s off, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.
Callum opens the back door for her when we reach my car. We all piled in after practice, still in our gear, still carrying the smell of ice and sweat.
I move our duffel bags to the trunk while Callum helps her with her seatbelt. She winces when she lifts her arm but doesn’t say anything. She lets him buckle her in like she’s fragile.
I watch the way she looks at him. Like maybe the world isn’t all bad. Like maybe there’s still something good left to hold onto.
I slide into the driver’s seat. Callum leans over the headrest.
“She needs her meds,” he says. “Walgreens on 6th Street. Right, Tiger?”
She looks at the paper in her hands and nods.
I input the address into my phone’s GPS.
When we pull up to the pharmacy drive-through window, Tigerlily talks through the back window and gives them her name and birthdate. They confirm the prescription.
“Where to after this?” Zephyr asks, turning around in the passenger seat while they put together her medication.
I watch her throat work in the rearview mirror. A swallow. A pause.
Her eyes flick to mine and hold for a second.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly.
Then she looks back at Zephyr.
Callum leans forward. “Do you think the cops locked up your house?”
“I don’t know.”
Zephyr looks at me. I look back.
The pharmacist returns with a white paper bag. Callum reaches past Tigerlily and hands over his card before she can even think about paying.
Her cheeks turn pink.
We drive toward her house in silence because she’s going to need clothes and her phone and her school things. We made a unified decision without actually discussing it. Just understood that’s where we’re going.
But when I park in the driveway, I catch her staring at the house. She’s frozen. Eyes fixed on the front door. Face pale.
I can’t quite read her expression beyond that. Grief maybe. Fear. Something heavier than both.
Callum is quick to get out and reach for her gently, opening her door and breaking whatever spell she was under.
Zephyr and I follow as they make their way up the walkway to the front door.
Callum reaches for the knob and turns it. But the door doesn’t open.
“It’s locked,” he sighs.
Zephyr and Callum exchange a look, already calculating which window might be easiest to break into.
But I keep watching Tiger.
She’s staring at the flower bed next to the porch. Then she bends down slowly, favoring her injured arm, and picks up a brick half-buried in the dirt.
There’s a key underneath.
She winces when she tries to place the brick back with one hand, so I grab her free arm to steady her.
“Don’t push yourself,” I mutter, taking the key from her palm.
Her eyes stay on mine for a moment. Something vulnerable passes between us.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, voice giving in. It reminds me why I stormed into her house in the first place. He had his hands wrapped around her neck, crushing her throat.
I unlock the door and push it open.
The smell hits me first. Stale air. Dried blood. Something probably rotting in the kitchen.
Callum comes walking through from the back of the house. He puts his hands up. “I thought for sure the window would be unlocked.”
Zephyr chuckles but I’m too busy taking in the room to respond.
Everything’s the same. Exactly the same.
The blood from Tiger is dried up black on the hardwood floor. The couch is still shoved out of place. The coffee table knocked over. The broken ceramic pieces from whatever she threw at him still scattered near the wall.
Nobody’s been in here since the incident.
“Are you okay?” Zephyr asks Tiger gently.
She nods. Tears well in her eyes but don’t fall. “I’m fine.”
She walks toward the hallway. Zephyr calls after her, “We should pack all of your things.”
I shake my head. “No. She needs rest.”
Tiger turns around. “I’m fine.”
“Because you’re on meds. Once that wears off, you won’t be fine. And I don’t have enough room in my car for all your things anyway. We’ll come back.”
She whips around like she just remembered something and storms into the kitchen.
For a moment, it’s silent.
I step aside so I can see beyond the wall between us.
She’s holding her phone, but the screen is black. It’s dead.
She looks at me. Then walks to her bedroom.
We follow.
Zephyr says, “Put us to work.”
She opens her closet door and points up at a shelf. “I’ll pack a bag for now. We have the rest of the month before...” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
Before what? Before they evict her? Before CPS decides what happens to Zinnia? Before her dad gets out on bail? I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I wish she’d finish the damn sentence.
“You sure about that, Tiger?” Callum asks.
She nods.
Within five minutes, she’s packed a week’s worth of clothes in a duffel bag. She brings her pillows and comforter too. She wraps them in her arms like they’re the only familiar thing left.
When we get back in the car, I half expect her to ask to stay at Callum’s instead. His house is cozier. Nicer. Emptier.
But she doesn’t say anything. Just sits in the back seat, clutching her phone.
We head to my place without objections.
Zephyr and I already set up the guest bedroom for her. We took out the desk and all the random shit we’d been storing in there. Now it’s just a room with a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand.
I pull the generic blanket off the bed and replace it with hers. The smell of her laundry detergent hits me instantly. Floral. Clean. Her.
I place her pillow at the head of the bed while Zephyr brings in her bags.
Callum’s already on the couch with her when we walk back out. He’s talking quietly and being gentle in that way he does when he wants something.
Such a fucking simp.
Zephyr and I sit on either side of them.
Tiger’s staring at her phone. Then she plugs it into Callum’s charger and waits for it to power on.
The second it does, she’s scrolling to find a number, pressing the call button.
She holds the phone to her ear and stares straight ahead at nothing.
We all hold our breath.
After a few moments of silence, she says, “Hi. I’m looking for information about Zinnia Lopez. She was taken by CPS a few days ago. Yeah, I’m her sister.”
A pause.
A tear slides out of her eye.
I reach over and wipe it away with my thumb.
Tiger’s eyes meet mine. They’re full of fear and desperation and something that looks like drowning. Like she’s being pulled under and can’t find the surface.
Then she stands up abruptly and walks down the hall.
Away from us.
Callum starts to follow, but Zephyr grabs his arm. “Let her have a minute.”
We sit there listening to her muffled voice through the walls.
Listening to her voice tremble.
And there’s nothing we can do but wait.