Page 167 of Fake Game

I can’t tell her it’s because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with a six-foot-something grumpy gamer whom I just left high and dry back in America without any warning, and that he probably hates me now as a result, which is causing my heart to bleed like someone removed a brick from a dam and the water is gushing out. That it should be so easy for me to pick up my phone and just send him a message, that I could type out two simple words—I’m sorry—but that every time I get close to grabbing my phone, a wave of nausea overtakes me, and so I just keep avoiding it because avoiding is what I do best. Because there’s a man out there who is trying to hurt me, and I don’t want to put Jackson or anyone else in danger.

“Maybe we go and get you some fresh air?”

I stiffen in her hold. I’ve barely left my bed let alone my room since arriving.

“Not into town or anything,” she’s quick to add, “but just outside.” Her voice is hesitant, testing the waters.

But the storm inside me hasn’t calmed; the waves are still crashing.

“No thanks.”

Her hand strokes down the back of my head in a soft, soothing motion. “Dr. Ainsley said you need to try. Even if it’s just sitting on the back porch swing for a few minutes.”

I know that.

“I’m still not ready.”

She sighs, pulling back. “Look out there, Deirdre, and tell me what you see.” She nods out the window.

“Trees. Some wildflowers. The field.” A swallow dives across the sky. “A bird.”

“Any houses?”

“No.” We own the entire twelve-acre property. There isn’t anyone for miles, and it takes twenty minutes just to drive into town.

“Then what out there—” she taps on the glass “—is scaring you?”

“Life.”

I know it isn’t rational, I know there isn’t anything out there, but there’s this little voice in my head that sayswhat if?What if he’s somehow found out where I am? What if he is watching me from a satellite, waiting until I leave this house? What if there’s a drone hidden somewhere to stalk me?

“Please. I promise it’s safe.”

Promise.

The word makes me think of Jackson again.

How he also promised he wouldn’t let me get hurt. How he promised to help me. How I abandoned those promises.

If Jackson were here, would he take my hand and lead me out into the sunshine?

I blink out the window, my mind hallucinating a couple in the field, holding hands.

Mam must see something pass over my face because she stands up and lightly tugs me out of my huddle, and my body seems to comply for once. My legs unfurl until my feet touch thecarpet, and I hold onto my mother’s hand as she slowly leads me out of my bedroom.

The house is quiet save for the light piano music that seems to always be playing. Still, I keep glancing around in case someone comes slinking out from the shadows, my hand gripping the balustrade as we wind down the staircase.

My steps begin to slow as we approach the double set of back doors. The buzzing of a hive hums against my ears, and my heart begins to shake in response.

Mam squeezes my hand, looking back at me with a smile as her warm brown eyes crinkle with hope.

“Breathe.”

My head moves in short nods as I try to do just that.

In. Hold. In. Out.

In. Hold. In. Out.

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