Page 60 of Forgive You

Her head rests against the window, a grin rooted on her cheeks. She looks so carefree, it’s making my heart flutter out of my chest.

“What are you smiling at?” I ease my foot off the gas, stopping in front of a red light.

She glances at me with mischief etched in the darkness around her irises.

“You’re a buzzkill, do you know that?”

I wince at her forward comment, igniting a lopsided smirk.

“I’m a buzzkill?”

“Yup. And a cockblocker.”

I hoot out a laugh, and hope expands my chest while warm, fuzzy feelings spread along my body. I missed this. Laughing with her. Feeling comfortable with her.Just being with her.

“Babe, trust me. There’s nothing more I wanna do than forget all our bullshit and take you home with me. But I don’t take advantage of drunk girls, Jules.”

“I know. You’re not Jacob.”

“Let’s not talk about him.” The mention of my brother shrinks the hopeful bubble that was growing bigger by the second.

“Nope, never. Zipped.” She pretends to lock up her mouth, then leans her head against the headrest.

Her eyes close, her breathing slow and heavy, as the quiet settles in the car again. Relief falls over my chest, but at the same time, a small knot forms in my stomach, because there’s something lurking in the back of my head.

‘You’re not Jacob,’she said.

Did he hurt her when he was drunk?

I stare into the night as the buildings pass by. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still here. Hunter left a long time ago. So did Bodi and Jensen. I always stuck around with the excuse that I have a lot of clients in LA. But truth be told, I have clients all over the country. I don’t have tobeanywhere.

And glancing at the girl in my passenger seat, I suddenly long to go back home again.

What the hell, Jason?Go home and do what? Move back in with Mama and Jacob? Play house?

My gaze sweeps to the side.

No, the only reason I’m thinking about home is because she reminds me of it. Because having her in my space makes me realize LA has never felt like home.

“I don’t ever wanna talk about him.Ever,” she whispers, eyes still shut, snapping me out of my daydream. “I bet she was right, you know? Bet he hurt a lot more girls.”

My entire body goes rigid, the back of my hairs dancing on my skin.

“Who? Jacob?”

“Jacob Schmacob.”

The leftover taste of beer turns to acid on my tongue, a strange storm brewing in my stomach.He hurt a lot more girls?He hurther?

“Jules?”

“Hmm?” She snuggles deeper into the seat.

“Did Jacob ever hurt you?”

Her eyebrows snap together as she shoots her gaze at me. “Of course he hurt me! Multiple times. You know this.”

There’s a hesitation in her words that triggers me, wondering if she’s speaking the full truth.

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