Page 84 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

The ringing didn’t stop.

He rolled off me with a heavy exhale and went to dig through the pile of clothes on the floor. I turned onto my side to watch him, still half-asleep.

For a brief second, it hit me that I’d actually slept like that. Let someone that close. Let him stay.

And I didn’t regret it.

He found his jeans, pulled out the phone, and the moment he saw the screen, the change in his face was instant. Softness gone. Replaced with something sharp, awake and closed off.

“Who is it?” I asked, my voice still rough with sleep.

He stared at the display for another beat.

"My dad."

Chapter 27: Exclusive

Jackson left early that morning. Neither of us wanted Thomas showing up at my door. He kissed my forehead, murmured that he would see me later, and slipped out before the sun had fully risen.

I lay in the dark after the door closed. Two were already in the ground. Two still walked free. Jackson’s father was one of them. I had not forgotten. I had simply let myself forget for a few hours. There was a difference.

The next week settled into a rhythm of early training, lectures, and late-night homework. Jackson found reasons to cross my path between almost every class. Sometimes he didn’t even bother pretending it was an accident.

By Friday, the Regionals had arrived, and this time we didn’t have to travel.

The home course was already loud when I reached it. Two school buses sat parked along the back fence while registration tables stretched under the awning. Parents and siblings crowded the bleachers in folding chairs and rain jackets. The sky hung low and gray, the kind of cold that promised rain by afternoon and for now simply clung to everything.

Athletes in different colors moved in tight clusters, stretching and shaking out nerves. The smell of coffee drifted from the concession stand. Cowbells rang. Whistles cut through the air. Someone shouted instructions across the field. The whole place felt charged as I dropped my bag at the team area.

The men’s race had just started, the 8K. I caught the tail end of the pack as they disappeared around the far curve, already breaking apart on the incline. Their race usually ran about twenty minutes.

The women’s team gathered near the starting line for the 6K. I finished braiding my hair into two French braids, stretched out the last of the tightness, and listened while Coach Miller gave his final instructions.

“Stay ahead of Rivertown,” he said. “Their top three are strong. Get four of us in front of their three and we take the win. Hold your pace through the second mile. No early sprints. Don’t die out in the woods.”

He stopped in front of me. “Break away when you’re ready. You always have something left after practice. Today leave everything out on that course.”

I nodded.

As I warmed up I glanced around the group. Naomi was sneering at me again. That tracked. If she ever stopped, I would worry.

A roar went up near the finish chute as the men’s race ended. Jackson crossed first by a wide margin, not just winning but completely dominating. Jason came in third, and the rest of the guys followed strong enough to set us up well for team points.

I barely had time to cheer before Jackson jogged toward me, still flushed from the race, sweat running down his neck. I started to speak, but he pulled me in hard, arms wrapping tight, face buried against the side of my neck as he breathed me in. Then he nuzzled my neck and cheek, as he always did these days. The shiver still ran straight down my spine.

“Jackson,” I muttered. “Not here.”

“Yes, here.” He didn't loosen his hold or even glance around.

“The entire field is watching.”

“Mm.” He sucked hard on the sensitive spot just below my ear.

Over Jackson's shoulder, I found Naomi watching us. I gave her a smile that wasn’t nice at all, then ran my hands up his back, one palm pressed between his shoulder blades while the other slid lower.

Her expression soured and she turned away.

Mine, my cat purred.