Page 19 of Covenant

The whole way home, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to explain all of this to Jackson. I can’t tell him about The Firm, he’ll kill me. And I get it—if I found out he asked them for something, I’d be beyond pissed.

No one should have to sinkthatlow.

But I’ve done this for him. To help give him the life he deserves.

Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be enough to save me from his fury if he learns the truth.

I rehearse what I’m going to say as I walk up the stairs to the apartment.Jackson, you’ve qualified for a rehab program we can afford—isn’t that great? Oh, and I’m getting married to a dude and we’ll both be moving in with him.

Yeah. I can’t see any of that going down without Jackson having several questions.

Maybe I don’t have to tell him any of that. I mean, the rehab stuff, obviously. That’s easier to lie about than the other stuff though. I’ll just let him go off for treatment, and then break the news to him while he’s there. I can start with maybe running into Matthias somewhere. He knows we share a past. Not the details, but that we were friends.

Once.

Perhaps I can gradually sell it to Jackson. He’s going to be in rehab for three months. That’s a more realistic time frame to sell a whirlwind romance. It’s not like I’ve been into men before…I’m still not. But hopefully Jackson will buy it if I’m convincing enough.

You’re going to have to learn to be convincing—remember? Matthias expects you to be a loving and doting husband.

Fuck.

I’ll figure it out. It’s not like he’s asking me to do it in private.

Except for sharing his bed.

The less I think about that the better.

My plans fall by the wayside as I step onto our floor and notice our door is wide open. Alarm spikes suddenly. “Jackson? You okay?”

“Yeah.” All he says is that one word, and I know he’s pissed.

As I step into the apartment, I see why. “What the fuck?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” Jackson says grimly from the sofa. He gestures at the countless packing boxes covering every surface, along with various other packing paraphernalia. “Wanna explain what the fuck that is?”

I follow his finger in the direction he’s pointing. “Is that a new wheelchair?”

“Apparently so,” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest. “I think you need to explain what’s going on because, last time I checked, we can’t afford ramen, let alone a top-of-the-line wheelchair.”

“Fuck.” I drop into the chair. “I’m not even sure where it came from.”

That’s not a lie. Was this the work of The Firm? Or Matthias?

My phone vibrates with a text message, clearing up at least part of it.

Unknown

Let me know if you need more packing supplies.

My temper hits flashpoint immediately as I type a reply.

Wyatt

Are you fucking kidding me? There’s enough stuff to pack up a six bedroom house.

There’s a long pause without a response. I use the time to save his contact in my phone asFuckface. I must’ve had his number once upon a time, but I deleted it once my life went to shit.

Fuckface

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