Page 9 of Slick Trip

When our eyes met, I tried to hold my ground, but heat was already crawling up my neck, forcing me to look away. My body, my traitorous body, wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us. Standing still took actual effort.

How long had Jon known about this? It was his involvement that hurt me the most.

Jack stepped out from behind Jon, brow furrowed in a frown. “Jon’s doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Jon’s jaw tightened. It was subtle, but I saw it. I looked at him with every ounce of contempt I could summon.

“A favor I didn’t ask for,” I snarled.

Jon’s face remained expressionless. He gave me fuck all. Needing to leave before my tears betrayed me, I pushed past him, my shoulder slamming his chest with all the force I could muster. It was like hitting a wall. The contact sent an unwanted jolt through me, settling somewhere low before I could shove it away. For a fraction of a second, my body remembered and sighed in satisfaction.

“I’ll never forgive you,” I hissed under my breath, not waiting for a response. I stormed into my room, grabbed my pillow, and beat it against the mattress until my arms ached. Then I collapsed face first onto the bed and let myself cry.

I didn’t know what I hated more—Jon, or the humiliating fact that some stubborn part of me still refused to let go.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. My first thought was Jon, but of course it wasn’t him. It was Mom. I wouldn’t have let Jon past the threshold anyway. I would’ve barricaded the door with sheer willpower before letting him put one foot inside.

“Go away,” I said into my pillow. Ignoring the mumbled request, Mom sat on the edge of my bed.

“I know this is last minute, sweetie. I’m sorry about that,” she said quietly, patting my back. “But the news has been downright awful lately. I just don’t feel comfortable with you traveling by yourself. Not with the way things are changing.”

“The world’s always been dangerous,” I muttered.

“I know. And I trust you, Cooper. It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust.” She hesitated. “Things are different right now.”

I frowned. “How?”

“You read about the attack in Springfield, right?”

I nodded.

“There have been more stories like that lately,” Mom said carefully. “About people being followed, harassed, and targeted. And it’s often based just on appearances.” Her hand tightened slightly on my shoulder. “That’s why I’m worried. You’re very . . .” She trailed off, searching for the word.

“What? Small?” I was bristling. Jack had gobbled up all the tall person genes in this family.

“Pretty,” Mom finally said. “You’re very pretty, Coop. That’s what scares me. You stand out, and that isn’t safe right now.”

“But why does it have to be Jon?” I complained. “I could’ve asked Bianca.”

“Isn’t she in Australia rescuing koalas?”

“A teeny tiny detail,” I said, making Mom smile.

“You used to like Jon,” she said, looking sad. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but whatever it was, I hope you two work it out.”

I looked away too quickly. Yeah. If only it were that simple.

“Besides, I couldn’t think of a better guard dog than him,” Mom said. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Is it just me, or has he gotten even more ripped?”

Hearing my mother use the word “ripped” felt borderline indecent. A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth.

“Maybe it’s those ink gloves that make him look so built,” Mom continued, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

My brow furrowed. “Ink gloves?”

“Isn’t that what they’re called? When your arms are covered in tattoos?”

I snorted, the heavy weight in my chest lifting just an inch. “They’re tattoo sleeves, Mom. Not ink gloves.”