Page 80 of Middle Ground
“But it did happen, and I can’t shake the feeling that things are only going to keep escalating.” The hand resting on my knee clenches into a fist. “I just don’t know what to do. It feels like we’re always one step behind.”
“The police don’t have any leads?”
I shake my head, though he can’t see me. “No. And short of never letting anyone I care about out of my sight, I don’t know how to keep everyone safe.”
“Jackson, that’s not your responsibility. None of this is your fault.”
Logically, I know that, but it’s a hard feeling to shake when none of this danger arrived until I did.
A few months ago, I had no ties to Fraisier Creek or any of the people living here. Now, I care about this community and this inn, and the thought of any of it being harmed—of Meyer being harmed—guts me.
I don’t say anything in response to Wells, and he sighs.
“You’ve got that charity dinner thing coming up, right? Try to focus on that and not everything that could go wrong.”
“I’ll try,” I say.
“I mean it, Jackson. No stress.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you been conspiring with my mother again?”
“Should I be?”
“No. I’m fine, Wells. Even with allof this going on.”
“Alright.” He doesn’t sound like he entirely believes me. “I’ll talk to you later. Keep me updated on the investigation.”
When he hangs up, I set my phone on the nightstand, and then I let out a sigh.
I’m fucked.
CHAPTER 28
MEYER
“Pippa, that’s my nipple!”
Tongue caught between her teeth, my best friend doesn’t pay my protests any mind. When she’s focused on a task, nothing can shake her—not even the fact that she caught my nipple with the tape she’s using to keep my dress stuck to my boobs.
“If you’re gonna see me topless, you should at least buy me dinner first,” I mumble.
“Please,” she says with a scoff. “I heard about that one homecoming dance. I highly doubt your date bought you dinner before that.”
At this, I grin. “I wasn’t the one who snuck a flask in my purse.”
“Maybe I should rethink letting you babysit Atticus.” She takes a step back, scrutinizing the neckline of my dress. “You’re a bad influence.”
“C’mon, Pip. You know you love me.”
When she moves out of the way, I inspect myself in thefull-length mirror. It isn’t often that I have the occasion to be fancy like this. My usual wardrobe is mostly made up of t-shirts and jeans. But it is nice to play dress-up every once in a while.
This annual charity dinner is the one and only time you’ll catch me wearing stilettos, though.
Pippa is usually my date. Every year, she splurges on an evening babysitter, we get dolled up, and then we get drunk. This year, I’ve got a permanent shadow in the shape of my business partner.
“I’m still impressed that Jackson was able to convince them to host the dinner here,” Pippa muses.
I roll my lips into my mouth to stop myself from readily agreeing. The truth is: itisimpressive. Many others have tried before, but the organizers always insisted on renting the stuffy, run-down recreation centre. Somehow between charming smiles and smooth words, Jackson managed to sway them.
