Page 13 of Say It Slowly

The hallway is empty, thank God, but as we pass the living room, I can see through the open door that it’s bursting at the seams. That’s where everyone went after the tribunal, apparently. And I can’t help looking for Roman in the brief second I pass by. I don’t see him though, and I just keep heading toward the front door.

The guy at the door hands me my phone. How he remembers it’s mine, I don’t know, but I’m not stopping to ask questions. I take it from his hand and step onto the porch. It’s cold out here, and I shiver as I make my way down the steps, and down the long, creepy walkway that’s flanked by gargoyles.

I unlock my phone to see if Bree texted me. That’s my ritual now. Every five minutes, check my phone obsessively, waiting breathlessly as I pull up my messages. Nothing.

Jackson catches up to me in just two strides, coming up beside me. “Don’t worry about Tyler,” he says, incorrectly guessing at the direction of my thoughts. “He doesn’t have the balls to follow through with his threats.”

“Great,” I say, flatly. “I feel better already. Is that why you’re following me back to my residence hall?”

He shrugs, walking next to me casually. “Tensions are running high tonight. Better to play it safe.”

“And I hate to bring this up, yet again, but isn’t healsothe one you guys think tried to run me down with his car?”

It’s just wild that they keep saying this guy is harmless, and yet, they’re taking all of these precautions. There’s definitely more to all this Tyler shit than they’re telling me.

Another shrug. “We don’t have any real solid evidence it was actually him. It’s just a theory, at this point. But we’re looking into it.”

“Cool,” I say as lackluster as I possibly can. He’ll excuse me if my faith in the Sacred Sons and their sleuthing skills is lacking.They’re basically just a bunch of half-drunk frat boys with trust funds. The fact that they think they can “look into” anything is comical.

We’re already halfway back to my dorm when he brings up the dreaded subject. “Roman really isn’t that bad, you know.”

I shake my head, laughing to myself. “Really? Because just yesterday, he warned me about the depth of his darkness and all that shit.” I pause. “What’s that saying, ‘When someone tells you who they are, believe them?’” I raise my hand. “Done. I’m a believer.”

Especially after what I just witnessed in the ceremony room.

“He did save your life, right?”

Seriously, he's going to bring that up now? Roman is the reason I was nearly killed in the first place. Well, I’m assuming. What other reason could there be? It’s either Tyler or another really pissed-off Burning Crown member who tried to mow me down.

“And I haven’t shoved a knife into his cold, black heart, so in my book, that makes us even,” I say.

Jackson laughs. “He said you were spicy.”

I flash him a look. “I’m not usually spicy,” I say defensively. “Roman just kind of brings it out of me.”

We approach my building, and he opens the door for me. I step in, and he follows me to the elevator. I have to admit, it’s nice to have a huge guy like Jackson walking me back. He’s beautiful like they all are, but he has a broody vibe that gives him an air of mystery.

I’m sure he gets all the girls without even trying. And honestly, if things were different, I might try to pull him into a dark corner myself.

But he’s a Sacred Son, and for me, that key detail is like kryptonite to my attraction. Except in Roman’s case, I guess. Herefuses to let my attraction for him die. In fact, now, it’s more alive than ever. Unfortunately.

“Tell me something,” I say, deciding to broach the topic that’s been on my mind since yesterday. “And please be honest.” We’re standing inside the elevator, and I glance over at him. “Does Roman or anyone within the Burning Crown have anything to do with my friend’s disappearance?”

He looks at me, surprised. “Is she actually missing? I thought she ran off with some guy. That’s what I’ve heard.”

“I know she’s been taken, or forced to leave,” I say, unblinking. “And I need to know if Roman is involved.”

Jackson leans against the elevator wall, relaxed, and shakes his head. “Roman would do a lot of shit, but he’s not going to kidnap some chick he doesn’t know. Why would he?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, to have a reason for me to need him,” I answer. “To keep me close.”

Jackson laughs. “He doesn’t need to kidnap some random chick for that.” He slides me a knowing look. “I think you know that already.”

He’s referring to our sexcapades, and I don’t bother to correct him. What’s important is that Jackson looks sincerely baffled by my question. He would never betray his brothers and tell me something I shouldn’t know, but my gut tells me he’s being truthful.

That’s good enough for now, I guess.

We get to my door, and as I’m unlocking it, I feel compelled to thank him for walking me back. Blame it on the manners my grandmother drilled into me as a kid, but not saying “thank you” in any given social situation literally makes me want to twitch.

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