She looks up at me. “Are you all right? Everything okay with Sarah?”

I nod, not because things are actually okay—nothing is okay right now—but because there’s nothing she can do, and I just don’t want to talk about it.

“Is it about your father?” she asks me.

This time I look up and shrug.

“I keep running it through my mind,” she tells me, dropping her fork onto her barely touched plate. “What happened. Why. What I could have done better. Did I make the right choice? I don’t know if I made the right choice, having him arrested.” She’s talking so fast, her bottom lip trembling. I’m not even sure she’s talking to me anymore. She’s just talking. Thinking out loud.

It’s the first time she’s ever opened up to me like this.

“You did the right thing,” I say.

She looks up, blinking back tears. “He had his accountant bail him out of jail. Now he’s at a hotel.”

I pause, knowing she’s scared. Scared of not being the perfect trophy wife anymore, and I have no idea what to say to make it better.

“I’m glad he’s not here.”

She blinks, her face blank. “Me, too.” Then her shoulders relax, like a weight was lifted from her. She smiles, her eyes still filled with tears.

So she wasn’t afraid of losing her marriage or image…she was afraid of admitting she’s glad about it.

We quietly finish our snack, not knowing what else to say.

Finally, I stand. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Okay, be careful,” she says, barely looking up from the sink as she scrubs her few dishes absently.

I walk out into the brisk autumn air. Fallen leaves float past, and I try to clear my mind as I make my way down the street. I need to think about something good. Something that’s not royally screwed up.

My feet move on their own, and I try not to think about where I’m going or why. Not until I’m standing in front of Jackson’s door. And then I realize how stupid this is. I have absolutely no clue what I could possibly say to him now.

I just know that I need to say…something. Anything. I need to hear his voice.

My breathing quickens as I fight with myself. Knock on the door and face my worst fear and greatest hope—or walk away a coward. My stomach clenches, a sour feeling filling every vein.

I knock on the door and it swings open in just a few seconds. I swear, if it had taken any longer, I’d have turned and run. I look up at the tall, muscular figure that is Jackson’s father and press a hand to my stomach, willing myself not to throw up on his doorstep. I keep my eyes steady and watch his face for signs of hatred, disgust. But Jackson’s father’s eyes are full of concern, sympathy.

“Looking for Jackson?” he asks nicely when I don’t speak.

I manage a nod.

He smiles and turns away. “Jackson! You have a visitor.” He turns back. “It’s nice to see you again, Anna.”

I blink, unsure of what to make of such kindness. Is he just being polite? He can’t possibly be okay with his son hanging around with a hooker, can he? Especially after the danger I put him in?

After a few seconds, Jackson jogs down the steps and freezes when he sees me. For one second, all my fear, all my shame, is washed away. Whatever happens now, it was all worth it for the few weeks I spent with Jackson. To have someone like him on my side.

But then I notice the look on his face. He’s not the same lighthearted boy I remember. His face is heavy, darker, somehow.

My heart stops.

There’s a blue mark across his eyebrow and a scab forming over his lip, and as much as I hate seeing him hurt, that’s not what stabs me in the gut.

That look, the look that I loved from the very first time I met him, the look that made me feel brand-new—it’s gone. Replaced by something dark, and I can’t tell what it is, but I’m afraid it’s the emotion I’ve been dreading all along.

Disgust.

Oh God.

I knew Jackson would be mad at me. I knew things would never really be the same. But I wasn’t prepared for this. Seeing it. Seeing him change. The boy in front of me isn’t the same boy with the Weedwacker. This is a boy who’s been ruined.

I ruined him.

Shit. What do I say to him?

He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t make it easy on me the way he usually does, always knowing exactly what to say.

“I…I just wanted to see you…”

He steps forward. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice lighter than I would have expected.

I shrug and take a step back. “I guess….” I pause and look up at him again. This time all I see is confusion on his face. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For homecoming. For the janitor. For not being who you wanted me to be.”

Tears fill my eyes, and my voice cracks. His voice is light as he speaks, not harsh like I’d expected. Not angry like he should be.

“You don’t get it, Anna. Those aren’t things you should be sorry for. You couldn’t help them. I’m not mad at you for having to save you from some dirtbag.”

I shift on my feet, not understanding what he means.

“I’m angry because you lied to me.” His voice is harder now. “You looked me in the eyes and told me lie after lie.”

My blood turns ice cold, rushing through every inch of me. He’s right. My crimes are a whole lot more than just what I did in the past, or even putting him in danger the way I did…

I lied to him. Even when I knew that was the one thing that would really hurt him.

“Do you have any idea how stupid I feel? I stood up for you, over and over. I believed you. I told you everything. I trusted you with everything. And you…you…” He shakes his head.

I swallow and look down at the ground. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, then turn and sprint down the street, away from him. Away from the hope he gave me. I can’t hear anymore, not right now. I can’t face this. I’m not strong enough.

I rush all the way back to my house, but instead of going back inside, I hop the fence and walk through the backyard. I run my hand along the prickly wooden fence that once separated me from the innocent suburban boy who believed I was normal.

Like my mother said, I don’t know if I chose right. Back then he gave me hope. A hope I desperately needed. But it was false. Always just pretend.

Because what if I hadn’t lied to him? Would he have even taken a second look at me? Would I even have those amazing memories to hold on to if I had told him who I was right up front?

Could Jackson Griffin have ever loved a hooker?

Chapter Thirty-Five

The next morning, I decide it’s time to go back to school. I can’t keep running. I’ve got to face the truth. Face the hate.

Sarah stays in town overnight, and my mom’s fine with her driving me to school the next day.

I’m scared of seeing Jackson again. The way he looked at me yesterday… What if he never forgives me?

If I thought the rumors and looks and whispers were bad before, they were nothing compared to this. It always felt like every set of eyes turned toward me before, that the world stopped. But it was just a feeling.

Now it actually does.

They all stop, literally, and watch me pass through the hallway. Even the teachers look at me with worried expressions.

News is out. I’m the town whore. Maybe I should take a bow.

Every class is torture. I can’t even focus on learning, because all I can hear are the rumors.

“That’s the whore. Yeah, I’m not even kidding, she really was.”

It makes me want to scream out, tell them it’s true and to grow up and get their own lives. Maybe I should make an announcement.

Hello, everyone. It’s me, Anna. You know, the whore? Yeah, it’s true. Get over it now, please? I’d love to move on now, thanks…

Then lunch comes. I consider skipping it altogether, but somehow over the last few days, my appetite has come back. I get my lunch and find a table toward the back that’s mostly empty.