Page 18 of Mind Pucked

I nod my head. “I mean, pretty much. But, there are so many other motives. The thing is, you know very well that the last person Preston was with was Jackson’s wife. They were in a car together. She died, so I can’t ask her. But you can’t tell me it’s just some strange coincidence. And the cops never said that Jackson knew of a reason for them to be together either. Isn’t that strange? I always got the feeling that things were just playfulcompetition when they were younger, but then it got more serious as they got older. Like, they low-key hated each other.”

Brooke whistles. “Okay, but it does sound like a little bit much, even for hatred. You play pranks on them, and you might wish bad things would happen, but you don’t cause a fatal car accident for the person you hate—especially when your wife is involved.”

I rest on my elbows again. “Unless they were doing something that made Jackson hate them both.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Would now be a bad time to ask about your trauma around relationships? Because it seems to me like you’re putting some interesting feelings on a couple that for all intents and purposes everybody said was the perfect couple.”

I scowl and roll my eyes. “Yes, this would be a bad time.”

“Okay, okay. I get the Preston thing. You miss him. You feel guilty because you weren’t here when everything happened. You feel like you could have done something more to stop it, even though logically, you know that you couldn’t have.”

Brooke reaches over and pats me on the hand. There’s that famous psychobabble. But this time it’s comforting, so I let it go.

“If I remember right, you cared about him too.” I really shouldn’t have brought it up. I always knew Brooke had a thing for my brother. It seemed like a silly school-girl crush for a while, but I kind of wondered if she was ever going to go for it. Sure, there was an age gap there, but not big enough to cause some crazy scandal.

“I did.” Brooke looks away, and I wonder if she’s hiding a tear. She was so good at being there for me after his death, but Ialways thought she never took the proper time to grieve Preston herself. “It doesn’t matter now. I probably would have outgrown it anyway. It was just a crush.”

I can feel the emotion underneath what she’s saying, and I definitely wish I could find out what it would’ve been like had she started dating my brother. For all I know, she could have become my real sister. Now, I’ll never know.

I squeeze her hand, and our eyes meet. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, but there’s also a strength there. She’s always been so much stronger than me.

“I am dating this new guy. It’s real casual.”

She’s trying to change the subject for my sake, and I go right along with it.

“Really? So, is he hot? Good in bed?”

Brooke gasps as if I’ve asked her the most scandalous question ever and then throws a hunk of sand at me.

I gasp but then laugh, yanking her up with me and dragging her into the water.

4

JACKSON

Itap my toe inside my shoe, trying to calm down as I keep looking at my phone to check the time. I don’t know what it is, but I’m worried I’ve made the wrong decision by hiring Amelia. I’ve wanted to call it all off so many times now, but I don’t have a choice. I need a nanny, and she’s the most qualified.

Plus, Hayden has been looking forward to this. She thinks she’s getting to play with her friend all day.

Friend.She sees Amelia as a friend.

My heart skips a beat, and I place my hand on my chest as the pain gets me for a minute before my heart starts beating the correct way again.

Right now, Hayden is down for her nap, but she should be awake any moment. About the time that Amelia should be walking in the door. Assuming she’s on time.

It feels like my phone takes hours to change just one minute. It’s 1:59 p.m. One minute until Amelia is supposed to be here. So, why isn’t she here yet? Does she even care about how she looks? This job?

Surely, someone who takes this seriously would be here already.

Stop it, Jackson. Stop being an ass. Stop worrying so much.

I think about who I was before my life went to ruin. Was I always like this? So high-strung?

Sure, I was serious about hockey. And I was a hothead—still am. But I don’t think I was anxious. Not really. Not like this.

There’s a light knock at the door, and my head snaps toward it.

I can hear Hayden stirring in her room, and it’s as if my whole body is attuned to the sound. I shouldn’t be able to hear her stirring in her bed upstairs, not from down here, should I?

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