Page 55 of Burn With Me

Right?

Six days.

It’s been six days since I heard from Jackson.

Sure, leaving him on his knees wasn’t exactly nice of me, but he’s the type of guy who thrives on a challenge. Who likes a chase.

So why isn’t he chasing me?

I’m torn between breaking down and sending him a text or simply trying to ignore it and hold out for one more day when I can see my stranger at the club.

I’m feeling needy and very alone right now, having not seen either of them in days—my stranger in almost two weeks.

I’d assumed Jackson would come calling at the clinic or the restaurant. But after a well-placed, discreet question toCarmela, I found out that Jackson hasn’t even been at Decadence when I’m not there.

He’s MIA.

And I’m over it.

Where are you?

Gripping my phone tightly, I stare at the screen, awaiting a response. It’s a Thursday afternoon. He should be at work, but getting past Nikki probably won’t be as easy since Jackson isn’t responding to me.

Hours pass. I’m ashamed to admit that I spend more time watching my phone and shooting off more unanswered texts than I do listening to my clients.

Jackson, answer me.

Why haven’t I seen or heard from you in six days?

I’m acting fucking crazy. Certifiably loony. Like one of those girls I swore I’d never be. One of those girls I always pitied because I never thought men were worth getting this upset over.

Is it because I didn’t let you fuck me? Is that it? Tired of the “playing hard to get” routine?

Finally…. I send the nail in the proverbial coffin.

Did you really mean what you said to Chris?

All of them go unanswered.

As the day winds down, entering into late afternoon, I tell Michelle I’m not feeling well and head out. It’s a gloomy day, the clouds heavy with promises of rain. The air is cool as itkisses my skin. I forgot a jacket today, and even though my top is long-sleeved and my boots are thigh-high, my skirt is short, and none of the layers do anything to keep out the chill. Burrowing into the blanket scarf Ididremember, I hurry down the streets toward Jackson’s office.

Nikki be damned.

Try me today, bitch.

By the time I make it there, I’m cold and angry, and it must be apparent because Nikki doesn’t even so much as say one snide word. She barely glances at me as I storm past her desk to the elevators. While I wait, I think I hear her on the phone with someone, warning them I’m on my way up, but it only fuels my anger as I assume it’s Jackson she’s talking to.

But it’s Stacey who greets me when the elevator doors open at the top floor.

“Where is he?” I grit out.

“He’s not here. He called out today,” she says simply, eyes appraising me with worry.

My body deflates. It was pointless to come here. If he called in, he has his phone. Which means he’s blatantly ignoring me. Which means he’s probably over my shit.

“Figures. God, I’m so stupid,” I mutter while shaking my head and turning to leave.

“Why are you stupid, Ginny?” Stacey asks softly.

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