Page 104 of Losing Faith

“It’s ruined.” Isabelle points at the bowl, fighting back her tears.

“Penguin, we can make another batch. You don’t need to get so upset.”

She shakes her head, a single tear falling. “We don’t have any more flour. I wanted it to be perfect for Abuela.” Her voice breaks.

“We’ll get more. It’ll be perfect.” Jackson shakes his head at her when another tear falls. “Oh my goodness, are you really going to be ababyover spilled milk?” He wipes a tear from her cheek.

“I didn’t spill the milk and I’mnotababy.”

A laugh escapes me and she snaps her head to me, her disappointment traded for anger. “Stop laughing! This is all your fault.”

“Hey,” Jackson warns, his voice strong. “Watch how you speak to her. There’s no need to raise your voice. We can either go get more flour or you can sit here and cry then go to your room for the rude tone, and there’ll be no cupcakes for anyone.”

She doesn’t respond and Jackson turns to me next.

“And you, stop laughing at her. Itisyour fault for throwing all the damn flour.”

My eyes snap up to his and there’s no trace of playfulness in his eyes. Just pure annoyance.

He lets out a frustrated breath, his eyes on the messy counter. “Clean my kitchen,now. Both of you.” He turns before adding, “We can go get more flour when I finish getting dressed.”

He sounds mad, but I know it has nothing to do with the flour.

“I think you’re in trouble,” Isabelle mumbles as she hops down from her seat.

Yeah… I’m definitely in trouble.

Not wanting to push his buttons, I do as I’m told and clean the mess I made.

By the time Jackson comes downstairs, the kitchen is as it was before I arrived.

“Here.” He hands me a black shirt and gray basketball shorts. “I’ll throw your clothes in the washer.” He doesn’t even look at me as he walks past me to grab my wet shirt by the sink.

Before he can walk off, I call out to him. “Wait.”

He stops, his back still to me.

“I still have my shorts on.” I’m not sure why my words come out mumbled, but they do.

He pulls in a breath. “Okay, just go change in the bathroom and drop it in the washer. The laundry room is upstairs. Last door down the hall, after the first left turn.” He walks off before I can respond and I can’t find the courage to ask for clearer directions.

I slip into the bathroom and shrug my wet pants off. My underwear falls next and I pat myself dry before slipping on Jackson’s shirt. His scent quickly wraps around me and I find myself pulling in another deep breath.

His shirt falls somewhere between my thighs. The pants are a much bigger fit, but after pulling the drawstring and folding them, I make do.

Heading upstairs, I try to search my brain for where the laundry room was when Isabelle first gave me a tour, but I’m drawing a blank and the house is too big to even remotely remember.

I know he said somethinglast door,but the last door I open at the top of the steps is what looks like another office. Closing the door, I make a right turn and walk to the end of the hall.

Opening that door next, I go still at the sight of Jackson’s back. He’s slipping a hoodie on and doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the door opening.

“What’s up, princess?” He turns and falters when he realizes I’m not Isabelle. “Yes?” he asks after I stare at him like an idiot.

“My bad, I can’t find the laundry room.”

“Last door to theleft.” He nods behind me. “Just follow this hall, the door is open.”

I don’t move as I try to decipher his tone. “Are you actually mad? Because I’ll buy the flour and say sorryforlaughingat her.”

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