Page 25 of Like You Know

A brief flash of hurt passed over Mom’s face, but it quickly disappeared as she ground her teeth.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for two damn weeks, Amaya Ann. What am I supposed to do? The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know!” Her tone had gone screechy too. I knew she’d been waiting in there somewhere—my selfish, quick-to-anger mother.

I scoffed and shook my head as I backed out of the kitchen. Upstairs, I grabbed my gym bag and a change of clothes, then stormed right back out the front door, past the pile of boxes in the foyer and the stunned moving guys.

The tires squealed as I tore out of there, speeding all the way to the gym.

I found a spot in the back lot and grabbed my bag. As I got out of my car, the back door of the gym opened and Jet came out. His head was down as he held his cell phone to his ear and walked a few paces.

Great. Fucking fantastic. Just what I needed now on top of everything else.

I didn’t even entertain the idea of getting back in the car and leaving. He was not going to keep me from my exercise. I chose to ignore the little feeling deep in my gut that told me I was staying not out of stubbornness but because I was secretly happy to see him.

Shoulders back, I marched across the lot, doing my best not to glance in his direction.

It was a bit irritating he hadn’t noticed me yet, but the person on the other end of that call was not sharing happy news.

Jet looked ... well, not as pissed off as I felt, but I’d never seen him look even remotely angry. I couldn’t help peeking over as I got closer, fascinated with the way his brows furrowed in a deep frown, the way his jaw worked as he listened, how the tension in his shoulders made them look even harder and more defined than usual. And he hadn’t even had his workout yet—his tank was completely dry.

“Yes, of course I understand that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You try not getting emotionally—”

He cut himself off as soon as he spotted me. I gave him a flat look and opened the door to the gym. I badly wanted to eavesdrop and try to figure out who he was talking to and what about. But I wouldn’t hear anything interesting now that he knew he had an audience.

“I have to go,” I heard him mutter as the door started to swing shut behind me. “Yes, sir.”

He stopped the door before it slammed shut and jogged to catch up to me.

“Amaya, hey,” he called, and I turned to face him just before I reached the locker rooms.

“Hey,” I said, voice emotionless. “Listen, can we not do this today?”

He frowned, concern entering his gaze as he scanned me. I resisted the urge to fidget with the hem of my T-shirt. I was still in my Fulton uniform and really wanted to just get into my gym gear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and moved closer.

I stepped to the side, avoiding what I knew would be a comforting touch on my arm. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve had a really shitty day, and you ...” I huffed. “You just seem to always find some way to get me to talk about it, and I really, really don’t want to today. So please, let’s not.”

He took a few steps back and leaned against the opposite wall, then watched me in silence for a beat. He was giving me physical space, and I had a feeling he was trying to give me emotional space too.

A sweaty middle-aged man came past clutching a towel and a water bottle, interrupting our eye contact for a split second before disappearing into the men’s locker room.

“Do you ever just ... wish you could be someone else?” Jet asked.

I cocked my head to the side. I’d been expecting him to push me to talk, or to drag me to the treadmills like last time. I hadn’t expected this random question, and I found myself actually thinking about it.

Did I wish I could be someone who wasn’t constantly fighting with her mother and hadn’t lost her father when she was eleven? Did I wish I could have normal teenage worries—like homework and boys and whether I was pretty enough—instead of having those worriesandthe insanity of a cult in my town and best friends whose lives were periodically in danger?

“I mean, yeah, sometimes. Doesn’t everyone?” I shrugged.

He smiled, but it lacked his usual enthusiastic positivity. “No, I don’t think everyone does.”

“Do you?” I threw the question back at him.

He nodded slowly and sighed. Then he pushed off the wall, some of that signature energy returning. “Let’s do it.”

“What?”

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