Page 91 of Beneath the Hood

Because with every day that we don’t, it feels more and more likeI’mthe secret. And even if Blakely isn’t meaning to, it’s hard not to feel like I’m left in the shadows, waiting for a second of her time, while she gives hours to everyone else.

To the millions of people who don’t even care to really know her.

It’s torture tagging along with her in public and not being able to touch her. To watch my Blakely disappear and the one she gives the world rise to the surface.

In private she’s everything I could ever ask for. She showers me with love and light, and just… fills me up with happiness until I’m screaming on the inside, wanting to shout to the world that she’s mine. But she’s so worried about people catching on, she barely gives me a second glance when we’re around others, and while I get why she’s doing it, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

But I haven’t brought it up, because how can I cause waves when we’ve just started dipping our toes in the water?

There’s nothing I can do except surrender to our feelings, follow my instincts, and pray for the best. Take comfort in the fact that this is temporary and figure out a plan of action, so when wedodecide to go public, we’re prepared for the possible fallout.

Mainly, with her father.

The one who just left the garage, reminding meonce againthat my job with her is to be his eyes and nothing more. He was here to surprise her, to let her know that after considering what she’s been telling him, he no longer expects her to work here.

My stomach’s been in upheaval ever since, worry battering against my brain as I think about what that means for our time together. Will not being here every day mean she has more free time or less?

How much of it will include me either way?

Tonight will be the fourth Monday since we made things “official” and while being with her is like a drug, the in-between moments are thick in withdrawal.

There’s an undercurrent of tension eating away at the space between us, the weight of our secrecy dissolving the air like acid, making it harder each day to breathe. And maybe that’s why I haven’t brought up my concerns over her eating habits, too afraid to mar the little amount of time we have together with something that I know will put her on the defense.

I’ve spent the past month watching her. Taking mental notes and paying attention to how often she works out (three times a day), to how regimented her diet is (every single bite).

She’s been bringing over packed and prepped meals, “saving me the trouble of having to cook,” not realizing how obsessive she is when she eats her food and robotically enters it into her phone.

I see her through the glass windows as she spins in her reception chair. She looks bored out of her mind and happiness lights up my chest as I watch her. But it’s quickly replaced by sadness that weighs me back down as I realize this is her last day and she hasn’t taken the time to come and tell me.

The thought sends heat flaring in my veins and I drop the terry cloth towel from my hand as I storm inside, irritation fueling my movements.

Her eyes swing my way, a gigantic smile gracing her face. My heart pinches at the sight.

“Hiya.” She waves.

I stop once I’m in front of the desk and take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm that’s raging in my stomach.

“Hi,” I grit out. “Bored?”

Her grin widens as she spins dramatically in her chair. “What gave it away?”

My lips twitch, wanting to laugh at her antics, but with every second that passes where she doesn’t tell me her news, anger brews like a melting pot in the base of my stomach.

“Were you planning to tell me?” I cock my head.

Her smile droops a little. “Tell youwhat?”

My fingers wrap around a brochure that’s sitting to my right, just to have something to grip so I can channel my anger there instead of having it bleed out into my words. Because I feel upset.Irrationally so, and I have no idea where it’s coming from other than the fact I feel caught off guard by the information her dad told me, and I’m unsure why it didn’t come from her—why she didn’t immediately come to tell me. Especially when she’s supposed to be mine.

“Your dad stopped by today.”

She nods, her brows furrowing. I see the moment it hits her, her eyes widening slightly before panic swirls through her gaze. “Jackson, I was going to tell you. I just found out. Probably right before you did.”

“I don’t like being in the dark about things, Blake.”

“I wasn’ttryingto leave you in the dark,” she whisper-shouts. “When did you want me to tell you? While Karen was up front with me for the first half of the day, training my replacement? Or maybe while my father was still here, huh?”

I shake my head, but she’s on a roll and continues her tirade. “Yeah, that would have been justperfect.‘Hey, Dad, don’t mind me, I knowthat I’ve been trying to get you to see things my way for months, and now that you finally have I should be happy, but... you see... there’s this guy, who happens to be your employee who I’m in love with, and the thought of not seeing him every day has my insides splitting in half and leaking out onto the floor.’”

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