Page 84 of Run For Me
Me:I just want your first name.
My vision gets blurry, so I have to keep blinking it away as I stare at my screen.
When the message comes through, I can’t breathe.
JT:It’s Jaxon.
Chapter Fifty
Jaxon
A week goes by of me barely hearing from Sailor. Something is wrong. I can feel it, but I don’t know how to talk to her about it. Also, I could be fucking crazy. When I text her, she answers, but they aren’t the same flirty messages they used to be. I don’t get reactions like I did when I send her pictures.
Did she play me? Am I the one who is going to walk away all butthurt over this? Because that’s pretty fucked up, if so.
I’ve texted her a few times today and haven’t heard anything back yet. She only has two classes today, so it’s not like she’s busy. She isn’t sleeping because I never got an alert that she got home. Maybe she’s out with her friend?
There’s only one way to figure out what the hell is going on here.
I’m going to her house tonight, while she is there, to figure it out.
After taking a quick shower, I drop into bed and doom scroll. It’s interrupted by a phone call from a random number, and so I ignore it. A voicemail pops up, and I read the text instead oflistening. I get through the first line and know it’s Mindy. The same number calls me again, so I decline it and block it. This girl does not give up.
I go back to doom scrolling, only for my phone to ring again.
“For fuck’s sake!” I grumble when I see it’s my mother. “What?” I bark into the phone.
“I need you here—”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I say. “I already told you I’m done with your shit.”
“And I told you what would happen if you crossed me.”
“Do what you need to do. I’m prepared to hide your body.”
I end the call and wait for it to ring again, but it doesn’t. Good. Maybe she got the point.
I open the text thread with Sailor, staring at all the texts I sent her today. I look fucking pathetic. She hasn’t answered since last night, and yet I keep texting, waiting for her to get back to me like a fucking puppy.
Only… what if something is wrong?
I check her location again, and she’s still on campus. Studying maybe. Probably with her friend.
I shouldn’t care so much. I really fucking shouldn’t—and for so many reasons.
Sailor is a good person; she doesn’t need to be tangled up with the likes of me. We somehow got caught up in each other, but that’s all this was supposed to be. I won’t drag her down with me, because there is no up. There is no happy life. I’ll end up a mix of both my parents, working a job I fucking hate with an ungrateful child I wish would move across the country and never talk to me again, all while fighting off a bullshit syndicate. That’s my destiny. Sailor has a future ahead of her—a life. The only thing I’ll do for her is ruin everything.
It doesn’t stop me from wanting her, though, and that’s exactly how I know I’m no good for her. If I was a better man, I’d walkaway and leave her alone. I’d let her live her life, let her be happy. Let her find her way back to Sam the pussy. He’s the kind of guy who would give her a life she deserves.
Marriage. House with the white picket fence. Two point five kids. A dog. The whole shebang.
The kind of life I couldn’t give her if my life depended on it. I didn’t grow up that way and don’t know the first thing about being that kind of person. It won’t happen for me. I accepted that a long fucking time ago.
I stare at the little blue dot for a long time. It doesn’t move for over an hour, and that’s when I lose my patience and get up, throwing on a shirt and my boots. I head out, grabbing my car keys since it’s raining. Dumb to own a bike in a place that rains all the time, but I guess it’s fuel to leave this place. I’d much rather find a place to ride my bike than be stuck here forever.
When I pull into the campus parking lot, I park a few rows behind her car, then check the dot again. She’s still inside, still unmoving. It’s dark out. Raining. Chilly. She should be home, in bed, safe. Under my watch, where no one can hurt her. Mid terms are this week, and I’m sure she’s studying for that, but if only she’d ask, I’d get her the answers. Or better yet, just change her grades in the system. My father may have a coronary, but then I’d inherit his money so it wouldn’t be so bad.
I get out of the car and run up the steps to the building and tug open the door. The warm air blasts me, and I tuck my hands into my sweatpants pockets and head up the stairs. I round the bend when I reach the top and spot a flash of pink hair. I force myself to keep going as we make eye contact, not wanting to give anything away. Her gaze is hard, eyes narrowed.
