Page 115 of Beneath the Hood

“If I do, will you keep him on?” The words rush out before I’ve even registered that I’ve said them, but I don’t take them back. I can’t. I refuse to be the reason that Jackson loses out on his dream. On his father’s dream. It’s the only thing that’s ever mattered to him.

Resolution flows through me, filling me with a melancholy confidence, and my spine straightens as I stare my father down. “Dad, if I stay away from him. If I make it clear that we’ll never speak again, will you keep him?”

He sighs, his lips pursing as he looks at me for long, strained moments. And then he nods.

Relief pours through me, mixing with the heavy acknowledgment that what I have to do will shatter me entirely. But I’ve lived years of my life alone, and I’d rather live a hundred more than be the reason why Jackson’s dreams don’t come true.

“Okay.” Blowing out a breath, I shake my head through the ache that’s piercing through my chest. “Okay.”

And just like that, I’ve lost my father’s attention. He’s already gone back to his full-time life, leaving me alone and forgotten in the dust.

There’s a weight pressing down on my chest as I come to terms with what I’ve just done. What I’ve agreed to. The realization that in order to give Jax his dream I have to break both our hearts, reaching up and clawing at my throat, strangling me in its choke hold.

Closing my eyes, I breathe.

One. Two. Three.

And then I call Sierra and tell her to contact DJ Andelo.

51

Jackson

My phone is hidden inside at the reception desk. I didn’t want to put it away, but Ihadto, to stop myself from obsessively checking if there was anything from Blakely.

I don’t know how to feel after last night.

When I woke up, it was to a pit festering in the middle of my stomach, worried that I ruined everything by being a complete dumbass. Only finding the courage to confront her issues on the same night she’s had her life blow up in her face. It was bad timing, but I don’t regret the things I said.

Still, there’s a lot I don’t know, and the more I think on what happened, the more I realize there’s no waytohelp her. Not until she wants to help herself. And where does that leave us? Because as long as I stick around, pretending that everything’s okay, walking on eggshells to keep from sending her into a spiral, I’ll be enabling.

And that in itself is detrimental to her well-being.

But the thought of not being with her—of not seeing her—is a hundred serrated knives drawing their jagged blades through my chest. If something happens, and I’m not there when she needs me, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Flashbacks of my father’s death and me not being by his side roll through my head, and I drop the wrench from my hand, struggling to breathe through the sudden pain.

I can’t leave her.

We’ll go public and then I’ll do whatever it takes to keep opening her up to the idea of help. We’ll do it together, as a unit. The way we’re meant to be.

I work for another hour before giving in to the incessant prodding of my mind, needing to check and see if there’s anything from her. I walk inside and grab my phone from the corner, smiling at the young temp who replaced Blakely.

My chest squeezes when I unlock my phone and see there’s still nothing.

Turning to head back to the garage, I pause when I hear Blakely’s name on the TV as it drones quietly in the corner.

My heart stutters in my chest. I turn around, gazing up at the screen.

And there she is.

Beautiful as ever, prim and proper, not a hair out of place. Looking absolutely perfect, the way everyone expects her to. There’s a smile spread wide across her face, sunglasses covering her eyes, and she looks... like she’s perfectly fine.

My chest squeezes, knowing that I’m wearing our fight on my skin and she’s somehow been able to hide it beneath the surface.

She’s so good at acting that Ialmostbelieve she isn’t affected at all. That it didn’t even happen.

And then, blood freezes in my veins, my stomach pinching so tight that acid rises up my throat, because walking out of the restaurant next to her is that douchebag DJ. The one I almost throttled when he played grab-ass on stage. I didn’t even realize they talked.

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