Page 123 of Losing Faith

“She’s old enough if she’s asking about her, Jackson. She deserves to at least see a picture of her mom and I think you should reach out to Skye.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” I snap, setting the plate down.

“She’s her daughter.”

“She’smydaughter.” I look between her eyes, my anger growing. “There is no reaching out to her. She lost that right when she left.”

A sympathetic look crosses her face but when she reaches to touch me, I take a step back.

“Jackson, everyone makes mistakes. You need to—”

“I don’t need to do anything.” I force myself to keep my voice low.

“She deserves to see her kid,” she says, her tone picking up strength.

“She doesn’t deserve shit.”

Her entire face morphs as if I just hit her. “Do not curse at me, Jackson Jones.”

“We’re not telling Belle anything untilIwant to, and we’re not reaching out to Skye. If you go against my wishes, you won’t be seeing her anymore.”

“Excuse me?” she nearly shouts. “You’re going to keep my grandbaby from me?” My mom keeps her fierce eyes on me and beside her, my dad steps in.

“What’s happening?”

“She’smybaby,” I ignore him, keeping my gaze on my mom. “And that’s final. Respect my boundaries.”

“Respect your mother,” my dad counters.

I open my mouth to reply, but he puts a hand up, quickly shutting me up like he used to do when I was a kid, and like muscle memory, I don’t say a word.

My mom stares at me for two beats before walking into the dining room and kissing the top of Isabelle’s head. “Happy Thanksgiving, beba. You be good for Daddy, okay?”

“Mom,” I let out a defeated breath as I walk over to them.

“Are you leaving before dinner?” Belle looks up at her as she walks over to grab her bag.

“Mom, don’t be like that.”

She ignores me as she walks for the door.

“Honey, wait up.” My dad tries to catch up to her fast pace.

“Ma, just—” I don’t get to finish my sentence as the front door shuts.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lisette

Istepintothediningroom just as the front door slams. I feel my brows furrow as I look around the mostly empty room and it’s just Belle.

“What’d I miss?” I ask as I glance out into the hall to where Jackson and his dad are having a hushed conversation.

“Nothing.” Belle shrugs as she toys with a camera. “We finished our thankful turkeys and now we’re going to eat, but I think Abuela left, so maybe we’re waiting?” She shrugs again, her eyes still on the camera.

I glance back into the hall, and neither Jackson nor his father look happy.

“You better apologize,” his dad bites out before walking out of the house.

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