Page 72 of Even After Sunset

Jackie glares at me.

“You’re such a jerk.”

I bring the end of my own stick up to my lips, my eyes still locked on hers as I use my front teeth to slide the perfectly browned marshmallow off the stick into my mouth. I chew slowly, milking the moment for all its worth.

“Maybe.” I grin wickedly through a mouthful of gooey sweetness. “But man, do I ever know how to roast a perfect marshmallow.”

We talk for almost two hours. I can’t remember ever talking that much with anyone. And it’s not just bullshit small talk; we have actual conversations. It feels easy. And different from what I’m used to when I was at Trenton, or people I hang out with back in Allerston Lake. Except maybe my next-door neighbor, Maggie. But I don’t really count that since my relationship with Maggs is so… weird. We can’t stand each other most of the time, but then I’ll find myself sitting on her couch watching fucking soap operas, of all things, the same day she’s made some smart-ass comment about juvie turning me into a douche-bag or whatever. Or after we haven’t talked for days, she’ll go and cover for me with my uncle, making up some excuse when I’m home a couple hours late. We’remore like brother and sister, I guess. She’s the only person I ever talk to about anything real, the way I am tonight with Jax.

I still can’t believe I’m sitting by a fire in Ellsworth, Maine—with Jackie Delaney. Who, by the way, is not annoying when she’s not poking and prodding and trying to fix me. She used to be so timid and awkward. But she sure isn’t timid anymore. Maybe still awkward, but not in a way she’s self-conscious about like she used to be. Basically, she’s turned into the best parts of herself.

Except for that whole perfectionist thing—that’s new. It’s the way she got messed up by what happened back when we were ten, I think. She might not see it, but I do—even after just a few days: she feels guilty about where she landed after everything went down, and she’s on a mission to do everything she can to feel like she’s earned it.

And also the whole “trying to fix Silas” thing is new. I mean, when we were kids, she acted like a mini-adult around me a lot of the time—because she was used to being the adult in the relationship with her mother, who was a total basket case. But she wasn’t on a mission to reformmeback then. In fact, when I broke rules or did something that got me in trouble, she was in awe of me more than anything. She was envious that I had the balls to not give a crap about risks or consequences or whatever. I think secretly she wanted to be like that, too. Probably because it must’ve been exhausting as hell: playing the parent role with her mother—having to always be responsible and on top of things when you were supposed to be doing dumb kid stuff, like breaking into abandoned houses and jumping across old tires in some muddy lake where you’d been forbidden to go.

Back then, that rule-following side of her personality was a burden on her. Now, though, she thrives on it. She totally owns it: the planning and rule-following and organizing, with those stupid color-coded stickies and trip-planning binders and everything.

This is the kind of stuff I’m aware of tonight. The fact that she’s changed, but is also still familiar. And that everything about her is so… authentic? I think that’s the word. Our conversations are, too. And we’ve been laughing, which is definitely not something I do with anyone back home. Or ever. Not even reallywith Maggs. Because any humor between Maggs and me is usually sarcastic, so that doesn’t really count.

Anyway, tonight has been nice. It’s beeneasy. We’ve been out here all night and we’re down to only two more logs. I grab one and place it over the embers, and we both watch as the flames curl slowly around it, then swell and sway in the breeze.

I brought out another one of my hoodies for Jax when I went inside earlier to grab more chocolate, since I could tell she was getting cold. Her face lit right up when I tossed it to her, like I was offering her the world instead of some ratty old hoody with a hole in the hem. It looks more like a dress on her than a sweater. She still looks hot. Not in a runway model way, but more like… wholesome. Natural, I guess. If there was a word for a cross between cute and sexy, that would be Jax. I mean, she’s got a fucking button-nose for chrissake—withfreckles. But then she has these eyes that are just… they draw you in and they are full-on smoldering. And she doesn’t even realize it. Which is the real kicker. That’s what gets you right in the gut: when a girl is smoking hot and doesn’t even realize it. It either makes you want to push her away—because who the hell wants to hold on to something that fragile? Who even thinks they deserve to bearoundsomething that fragile?

Or it makes you want to pull her close; like some sort of primitive caveman, to protect her. Because, man, it would be crushing if anything ever changed that about her - if she ever realized how gorgeous she is. Howrareshe is.

She’s watching me now, her head turned away from the fire and her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her hands are hidden, tucked up somewhere in the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

“So…” she says. “What was it you wanted to tell me earlier? Before the s’mores?”

And I’m so gut-punched, I don’t even make a dig about her epic marshmallow-roasting fail when she brings up the s’mores.

“Yeah… that.”

I inhale a long breath, then let it out through rounded lips.

“Jesus, Jackie… You’re gonna be so… I mean, you’re gonna hate me. After I tell you - you’re gonna want me gone. Like, for good. And I want you to know that tomorrow morning I’ll go. First thing in the morning, I’m outa here. I promise.”

“Oh my gosh…” Her face looks pained. She already looks crushed, and it kind of kills me a little inside. “What? What did you do?”

I blow out another breath. Then I just say it.

“I killed your mom, Jax. I’m the one who shot her.”

Chapter Twenty

Silas

She doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t even react. Her face is just… blank. And unlike all those other times, I feel the need to fill the silence.

“I’m so sorry…I am so fucking sorry, Jax.”

I shift on the blanket so I’m closer to her rock-still body.

“I should have told you before. I wanted to. And I just… I didn’t know how. And I thought someone would find out. I thought for sure the cops would figure it out and it would get out that way. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to say it and you’d hate me, but I wouldn’t have to see you. And then… Jesus, Jax… It just… time just passed…” I drag my fingers through my hair, tugging at it, like I need proof that at least one of us is feelingsomethingright now.

“I tried to forget. Even though I knew it was wrong. But I wanted—”

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