Page 117 of Losing Faith

His dad laughs at him and I feel my chest tighten as I watch their smiles like a happy family.

“Oh, and you’re just so creative, huh?” Ivy teases her son right back. “Where did you get Isabelle’s name from?”

Jackson’s smile slowly fades and his mom’s eyes cut to Belle before she realizes an obvious mistake she made that I’m missing. I focus on Jackson again, but he simply forces a smile as he looks down at his daughter.

“Let’s take a picture with Abuela.”

Isabelle smiles up at them as she takes her dad’s phone. Refusing to get in a picture with Jackson’sparents,I quickly escape to the bathroom.

For safety measures, I hide out for a solid five minutes, which is a bad idea because with every minute that passes is another bad thought that enters my mind.

When I hear laughs filling the house, I assume the coast is clear, but can’t bring myself to go back out. I feel so out of place here.

The first night was okay. The first morning was better. Jackson is off from work and it felt so easy spending the entire day with him as his daughter was at school. Last night was great as we watched princess movies. Today we were too busy cooking for me to even take a second to think. I was genuinely immersed in the kitchen as Jackson showed me how to make his favorite Puerto Rican dishes.

Butnow…now I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb in my cheap dress. I’m almost positive his mom was in cashmere and the money isn’t the issue, I knew they had money, but it just adds to the fact that I don’t belong here.

I jump out of my thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door. “Lissy?”

I let out a breath at the sound of Jackson’s voice. “Yeah?”

He’s quiet before saying, “You okay?”

“Peachy.” I sink onto the toilet seat again, my shoulders slouching. I just want to crawl into bed. I hate all of those statistics for being right about depression rates spiking during the holidays, because my energy is suddenly drained, and I don’t have it in me to smile for these people.

The door knob rattles, but since it’s locked, he isn’t granted access.

“Can you open the door for me?” His voice is soft and I shake my head at myself as I rise to unlock the door.

A beat later, he enters. Closing the door behind him, he leans against it and focuses on me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Drop the pet name, Jackson.” My voice is so numb and the fear of an endless week of dark thoughts fill the pit of my stomach.

I needed more time. I needed a few more days of peace before the weight in my chest returned.

Pushing off the door, he closes the distance between us and gently tucks a hair behind my ear. “What’s the matter? You were just fine. What happened?”

I shake my head, growing annoyed with myself because he’s right, Iwasjust fine. “Mood swings accompany depression.” I smile up at him bitterly. “It’s really the best of both worlds.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile and I don’t appreciate the silence.

“Tell me what you need.”

I shake my head at him, but as I drop my head, his fingers find my chin as he lifts my gaze back to him.

He watches me with certainty and stability as he says, “Tell me what you need so I can help, Lisette. Don’t seclude yourself with your thoughts, it’s not going to make you feel better.”

No, it’s not, but I like torturing myself and sulking in the pain.

“I want to go home,” I whisper.

He watches me for a beat. “And do what?”

Get high.

I don’t answer him and he simply nods like he just read my mind. “This is probably very inappropriate, but will a kiss make you feel better?”

A smirk grows on my face and a part of me hates how quickly he can alter my mood. “Taking advantage of me while I’m unstable and vulnerable? In theheadspaceI’m in? Shame on you, Jackson like your grandpa, Jones like your dad.”

---