JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,123

said this, which was a relief— for a moment, I thought perhaps he’d forgotten I was there at all. But yes, there was this, this secret that only I knew— that his shoulder was most of the way better, or at least, appeared to be. He wasn’t telling his parents the whole truth because he wanted to guard their expectations should the Clemson game go wrong. But he’d told me. He’d been honest with me.

I nearly laughed at the fact that a secret about football was validating my relationship. MY, HOW MY LIFE HAS CHANGED, I thought, then exhaled.

“Can I help you with any of that, Ms. Everett?” I asked as cheerfully as possible.

Ms. Everett looked up from where I was trying to squirrel a few growlers into the already packed fridge. “Oh, I’m fine, Sasha. Feel free to go set your bag down!” There was only the tiniest edge to her words, so deniable that for a moment, I almost believed I’d misinterpreted absolutely everything about this trip— maybe his parents really WERE coming around to me. Maybe Jenna really was just here as a family friend. Maybe I was overthinking it, and Mimi Everett just had a really serious case of resting bitch face rather than a personal vendetta against me.

Ms. Everett slapped herself on the forehead and said, “Oh, though I’d planned on Jenna taking the gold bedroom! We’ve got another spare though, Sasha, don’t worry— up the stairs, second door on the right.”

“Sure,” I said, and started up the steps.

“I can carry that for you, Sasha,” Jacob offered, but I shook my head.

“It’s not heavy— stay and hang out with your parents,” I said, smiling at them. That had to get her some points, right? A little reminder that I wasn’t here to take their son from them? Jacob nodded and returned to a conversation about the upcoming doctor’s visit while I looked for my room.

I stumbled across what HAD to be the gold room— Jenna’s room— first. It was…gold. Very, very Harton gold. The furniture was all covered in and ostentatious gold leaf pattern, and the walls were pale green and gold paper with toile patterns of (what else?) rams and ewes frolicking in meadows. Ridiculous as it was, though, it was a gorgeous room, with a claw-foot bathtub and elegant vanity right across from the bed, and enormous windows that showed off a now neon pink and orange sunset.

SECOND DOOR TO THE RIGHT, I reminded myself, and left the gold room, eager to see what my quarters would look like. Nothing in this house was done halfway, so I could only imagine it would be lovely. I found the door and knocked it open with my toe—

“Oh my god,” I said aloud, heart sinking.

I was both entirely right and entirely wrong about…well…everything.

I was right that the room was lovely. It was done in a sort of outdoors theme, with leaf-printed wallpaper and reclaimed wood furniture. That furniture, however, included bunk beds, a drawing easel, and a window seat with stuffed animals— rams— all over it.

It was a kids’ room. And not Jacob’s old room— that might have been sweet— but a generic kids’ room, the place you park your rich friends’ progeny so they’ll be occupied while you drink in the hot tub. The bathroom had a typical tub with a striped curtain, and a little painted plaque by the hollow-log shaped soap dish said BRUSH THOSE CHOMPERS.

I dropped my bag down, hard, and fought back tears. Jenna was here, invited by Jacob’s parents, who had thought they left me off the invitation. They’d stuck me in the kids’ room and gave Jenna the princess suite. Jenna, who the school loved, who his parents loved, who Jacob used to love.

And he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t done anything, other than get to the house first so he could have a quickie on the back deck. He hadn’t fought for me, hadn’t defended me— he had to have known what room I was being sent to, and he hadn’t so much as faltered.

Did he not know it was going to hurt me? Or did he not care? Either possibility was terrible— if he didn’t know, then he wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t listening, wasn’t thinking about me at all. And if he didn’t care…

I stepped into the bathroom, locked the door, and allowed my tears to fall— I’d learned long ago that trying to hold them in only made my face snottily red for hours. I sat