“Next week,” she says, and hesitantly peeks at Jaxon. She’s nervous around him, and rightfully so. He has a short fuse and will attack if anyone tries anything with me.
“Why next week?” I know the answer. If Dad doesn’t want me here during the Reckoning, then that must be why Mom is taking me out for a getaway. I just want to know more about it and why I can’t be here.
Jaxon pulls out his phone and opens the screen. He pretends to be engaged with that to make it seem like he doesn’t care, but he’s listening. He’s always listening.
Mom sighs. “Can I not just spend time with my daughter?”
My lips thin as I hold back the sarcastic laugh bubbling in my chest. I can mention the Reckoning. I can also bring up how I’mtoo muchand wouldn’t want to weigh her down during afungetaway, but that will make Jaxon snap.
“I don’t know, can you?” I say instead.
A ghost of a smirk tugs at Jaxon’s lip, but the rest of his face stays blank. His approval gives me the serotonin I need after hearing the shit Mom said ten minutes ago.
She rears her head back as though I slapped her. Mom struggles for words and keeps looking at Jaxon like she’swaiting for him to step in and defend her. He disregards her completely, focused on scrolling on his phone. I inwardly preen over that. I’m glad he’s not giving in to her theatrics.
Mom clenches her jaw. Her lips part as she’s about to spew venom aimed to hurt me. She pauses, and a weird, unfamiliar expression crosses her face.
“What is that on your neck?” she says.
I touch my throat and stupidly look down to see what she’s talking about, but obviously, I can’t see anything.
Mom bends at the waist to get a closer look at my neck.
“Is that a hickey?” Her lips flatten and her nostrils flare with every angry breath she takes. “Are you seeing someone and letting him dip his hand in your cookie jar?”
I cringe at her use of the weird analogy instead of her outright asking if I’m having sex.
“Mom,” I say in disgust, and cover my neck with my hands. Jaxon must’ve given me this hickey before she came in here. Thank god she’s not smart enough to notice the difference between a new hickey and a fading one.
Jaxon peeks at me from the corner of his eye with mischief and pride.
Mom doesn’t notice since her attention is still on me, and she slaps my hands away from my neck. “Did you sleep with him, Dahlia?”
I lean into the sofa to escape her outstretched hands. I don’t understand why she always feels the need to touch my bruises. “I didn’t sleep with anybody. Besides, I’m an adult. What I do is my business.”
Mom gives me anoh-reallylook.
“That’s bull.” She straightens to her full height, folds her arms under her breasts, and gives me the bulldog expression that I so badly want to laugh at. “I’m telling your father about this.”
The shit-starter side of her makes an appearance. How lovely.
My face relaxes, and every part of my body follows suit. My vision tunnels, and I briefly wonder if this is what Jaxon experiences when he blacks out. His presence is the strongest. He’s the cord tethered to me, keeping me here instead of allowing me to disappear into the clouds.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” Mom asks as she taps her finger on her arm. When I stare blankly and don’t answer her, she turns to Jaxon. “Do you know who she’s seeing?”
He stares at his phone, his thumb swiping along the screen in slow strokes. “Yeah.”
I hold my breath, wishing it’s enough to slow down my racing heart as I sit on the edge of my seat.
Mom waits for him to give more details, but when he doesn’t, she huffs. “Well, who?”
“So you can fuck him too?” Jaxon peeks at her from beneath his lashes.
Her face reddens with an angry blush. “What kind of question is that? I just want a name.”
“Why?” He pauses for a second, dragging this out and building the tension. “You’ve seen Dahlia as your competition for as long as I’ve known you. Anything she does, you try to do better.”
“That’s not true!” Mom shouts.
