Not without setting off a chain reaction of events out of my control. More than likely, the second I utter the name ‘Reyes,’ the officer in charge will haul Flora and Miguel into the station for questioning. Jaxon could wind up in trouble again. And as for Archer…
He has far too much to lose, right now. His future, his dreams, are finally within his grasp. I refuse to be the one to drag him further into… whatever this is. Not after he’s worked so hard to distance himself from his older brother’s reputation.
The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that what happened to me yesterday has something to do with how he’s been acting these past few weeks. Rico basically confirmed it with a single offhand comment.
Your little baseball star boyfriend knows how to get in touch.
It’s like someone’s finally handed me the missing pieces of a puzzle. I turn them over in my hands, trying to fit them into a picture that no longer makes any sense.
My frustration is almost as strong as my fear. I may not understand exactly what’s happening here… but I know in my bones that Jaxon is the root of it. Any problem the Reyes family has ever endured is a direct result of his poor choices. And it surely cannot be a coincidence that Archer started pushing me away as soon as his brother was released from jail.
His cold indifference, his cruel treatment, his sudden avoidance… I replay it all with fresh eyes, consumed by a desperate sort of hope. A fool’s hope, perhaps. But hope is a funny thing. It can ensnare all logic, can break apart the most convincing of lies.
Maybe it was all an act.
I cling to that possibility like a naive little girl, clutching her teddy bear to ward off the monsters under her bed. It’s pathetic how acutely I want to believe there’s an alternate explanation for the seismic shift in the boy I love.
Bzzzzzzz.
The gate rings again. I grab the large knife off my beside table — the one I took from the kitchen earlier, just in case — and make my way downstairs. The access panel glows in the dark, its buttons a faint row of illumination. I press one to enable the microphone and outside camera. The screen flickers to life, revealing a black Jeep Wrangler waiting at the gates.
I’m so relieved it’s not a Ford Bronco, I nearly fall over.
“H-hello?” I bark into the intercom, trying to sound assertive. “Who’s there?”
The driver sticks his head out the window, pressing his nose practically against the lens. Despite the slight fishbowl effect of the camera, his face is vaguely familiar to me. I’m almost positive he’s one of the JV baseball players. Justin Something-Or-Other. A junior at Exeter.
As for why he’s at my home at two in the morning, I have no earthly idea.
“Oh, good, you’re here!” he bleats nervously. Beneath the rim of his baseball cap, his acne-peppered cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I’m the designated driver tonight. I’m supposed to drop off Reyes, but he won’t give me his address…” The boy darts a look at his passenger seat. “He just keeps telling me to take him here… to you...”
I press a hand to my temple.
Of course.
“I’ll take him somewhere else if you want,” the boy says. “It’s just… he’s pretty insistent—”
“Jo!” Archer shouts suddenly, his voice garbled. His head appears out the open roof of the Wrangler as he stands up in his seat. “It’s me, Jo…”
He looks unsteady, swaying in the wind. Even through the camera, his eyes are visibly bloodshot.
“I forgot the code,” he tells me, laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “Can you buzz us in?”
I bring my lips close to the two-way speaker. “Why should I help you, Archer? You’re a total jerk.”
“I know. I know I am. But…” His hands press together in prayer. “Pleaseeeeee, JoJo. Let me innnnn.”
His voice is slurred and full of static, but it still slides over me like a drug, triggering goosebumps across my skin. I hate myself for being so affected by him. I hate that, even when he’s treating me like crap, he owns every beat of my stupid heart.
“Fine.” I sigh deeply. “Not that you deserve it.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I jam my finger against the button, allowing the gates to swing wide.
* * *
I standon the front steps in my fuzzy slippers, shivering against the cold. My pajama set is painfully thin.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for the Wrangler to make its way up to the house. My eyes lock on the beam of its headlights arcing around the circular driveway. It stops at the bottom of the steps with a crunch of gravel.