Chapter 8: Outed secret

I finish drying my hands in the bathroom. The towel is thick and soft, nothing like the scratchy ones at my house. I take a deep breath, watching my reflection in the mirror. My skin is pale, and my eyes look tired. I smooth my hair down and check my pockets. I need to be a professional. I need to walk back out there, finish the wrap, and leave.

I push open the bathroom door. The air in the pool house is warm, but a sudden chill runs down my spine.

Jaxson isn't sitting on the bench where I left him. He is standing by the low glass table. The blue light from my phone screen reflects in his eyes, making them look like cold fire. He is holding my phone in his left hand, his thumb hovering over the glass.

The room is so quiet I can hear the hum of the refrigerator. The loud, thumping bass from the party at the main mansion feels a mile away.

"Jaxson," I say. My voice is thin. I take a step forward, my hand reaching out. "What are you doing? That’s mine."

He doesn't hand it back. He doesn't even move. He just looks at the screen, his jaw muscles jumping as he grinds his teeth together. He slowly turns the phone toward me.

"Check your messages, Ghost," he says. His voice is a low, dangerous vibration. It’s the same voice the Unknown caller used in the text. "Is this why you’ve been jumpy? Is this why you’re looking at the ceiling every five minutes?"

I can’t find my breath. I stare at the screen. The text is right there, glowing in the dim room.

"Give it to me," I whisper. I try to snatch it, but he lifts it out of my reach.

"They were at the gym, Maya," Jaxson says. He steps into my space. He is so close I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. "They have a photo of us. They saw the tape. They know everything. And you were going to sit here and let me think we were safe? You were going to let someone hold a knife to your neck and say nothing?"

"Because they told me they’d kill my future!" I finally snap. The words burst out of me, loud and jagged. I stop trying to grab the phone and just stand there, my shoulders shaking. "They said if I told you—if I told anyone—the photo goes to the Principal. I lose my scholarship, Jaxson. I lose my seat in class. I lose my shot at the city college. I go back to being a girl who cleans grease off car engines for the rest of her life."

I look up at him, my eyes burning. "You don't understand. You lose a game, and it hurts. I lose this, and I disappear. I’m already a ghost. I don't want to be dead."

Jaxson’s expression shifts. The anger is still there, but the sharpness leaves his eyes. He looks at my old, faded hoodie with the frayed strings. He looks at my sneakers with the worn-down soles. He looks at the way I’m gripping my own elbows to stay steady.

He slowly lowers the phone and sets it back on the table. He doesn't say anything for a long moment. He reaches for a remote on the counter and presses a button. With a soft whirr, heavy black curtains slide across the floor-to-ceiling glass. The blue glow of the pool is cut off. We are wrapped in shadows, lit only by a single lamp.

"We aren't just doing the wrist anymore," Jaxson says. He sits back down on the leather couch and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He points to the spot next to him.

I hesitate, then sit. The leather is cool and smells like new car interior.

"We are going to find them," he says. He isn't looking at the door now. He is looking at me. "I don't care about the photo. My dad can yell all he wants. But no one uses me to hurt someone else. Especially not someone who is trying to save my career."

"But how?" I ask. I bite my lower lip, my teeth sinking into the dry skin.

Jaxson’s eyes track the movement of my mouth for a split second before he looks back up. "We play the game back. We watch everyone. We look for the person who is always on their phone when we’re nearby. I’ll keep an eye on Miller and the guys in the locker room. You watch Chloe and her circle. We look for the dark coat. We look for the long shadow."

"We can't just follow people at school," I say. "They'll see us."

"Then we meet outside of school," he says. "Not just for the wrist. We go where they go. If we think it’s Chloe, we follow her to the mall. If we think it’s a guy on the team, we watch who they meet after practice. We become the shadows."

He reaches out and picks up the roll of white medical tape I left on the table. He turns it over in his large, calloused hand.

"Why are you doing this, Jaxson?" I ask quietly. "You could just tell your dad you got hurt and quit the deal. You could save yourself the trouble."

Jaxson looks at the tape, then at me. He reaches out, and for a heartbeat, I think he’s going to touch my hair. Instead, he just nudges my bag closer to me. "Because no one threatens a member of my team," he says. "And right now, Vance... you’re the only person on my team I actually trust."

We sit there for another hour, huddled over our phones, making a list of names. Miller. Chloe. Coach’s son. Every time I suggest a name, Jaxson tells me a secret about them. He tells me how Miller is always jealous of the scouts. I tell him how Chloe treats the other girls.

Hours pass. I notice the way his right hand shakes just a little when he’s stressed. I notice the way he narrows his eyes when he’s trying to remember a detail. And he notices me. When I bite my lip again, he reaches over and gently taps my chin with his finger.

"Stop that," he mutters. "You'll make it bleed."

The touch is electric. I pull away, trying to hide the blush creeping up my face.

"I have to go," I say, my voice a bit shaky. "Leo will be wondering why 'studying' takes four hours."

"I'll walk you to the gate," he says, standing up.

"No," I say quickly. "Stay in the light. If they are watching, I need to be the only one they see leaving. I'll stay in the trees."

Jaxson nods, but he doesn't look happy about it. He stands at the door as I walk out into the cool night air. I feel his eyes on my back until I disappear into the woods.

I trek back through the muddy park, my heart racing, only slowing down when my house comes to view.

I slip into my house. The TV is flickering, and Leo is passed out on the sofa, a car magazine on his chest. I sneak into my room and lock the door.

My phone buzzes. I flinch, reaching for it with trembling fingers.

It’s a text. But it’s not from Unknown.

JAXSON: Sleep, Ghost. Tomorrow we start the hunt.

I pull the covers up to my chin, a giggling ripping out of my throat.