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He shrugged. “No one will know as long as I take the mug upstairs before anyone sees it. Do you even like hot chocolate?” he asked shyly.

I nodded and blew on the beverage before taking a small sip. “Love it.”

“Good,” he said and smiled. “It’s nothing special, just a mix.”

“There’s a way to make hot chocolate
not
from a mix?” I asked and took another sip. Jackson half smiled and nodded. “I didn’t know that,” I admitted. “Though I suppose years ago the little one-cup sized mixes didn’t exist.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with another small smile. “I suppose.”
 

I put the mug to my lips and sipped the hot liquid. I could feel Jackson watching me. I knew his shyness was genuine, so I pretended like I didn’t notice him staring. There was more to Jackson than was visible on the surface, and I wanted to find out about it.

“It stopped snowing,” he told me. “And it’s supposed to be warmer tomorrow. The snow will probably melt by the weekend.”

“Typical Iowa winter,” I mumbled. “I hope it snows again soon so we can shovel. Not that it was the most fun thing to do, but being outside is better than this,” I admitted. “I hate being locked down here.”

“I hated it too,” Jackson said, surprising me.

“You were locked down here?” I asked, the shock apparent in my voice. Jackson nodded and cast his eyes down. I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it. “For how long?” I asked gently.

Jackson shuffled his feet and shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

I cupped my hands around the mug and brought it to my face, letting the steam warm me. I looked at the cot and then at Jackson. “Want to sit?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.
 
His body was stiff and he kept his arms close to himself. It seemed like he was afraid to be close to me. “Is this okay?” he asked and turned his head.
 

“Yes,” I told him and realized that he was worried about me being afraid of him. I wasn’t, not anymore. Being around Jackson was becoming more familiar and comforting. “So, are you from Iowa?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Illinois. You are, right?”

“Yeah. I was born in Pella and lived there for ten years. My parents always wanted to open an art gallery, so we moved closer to Des Moines for business when they finally had the money.”

“And you were going to school?”

I nodded. “University of Iowa.”

“Did you like it?”

My heart sank, and I felt like someone slapped me when I realized that a new semester had recently started. I wondered what classes Lynn was taking and who she had roomed with this year. “Yeah, I loved college,” I told him.
 

The front door slammed shut, shaking the house. Jackson jumped up. “Zane’s back,” he told me. “I was supposed to get your laundry.” He took the empty mug from me, hurried over to the overflowing hamper, and picked it up. “Night, Adeline,” he said as he sped toward the stairs.

“Addie,” I told him. “Call me Addie.”

He looked back and gave me a small smile. “Okay. Night, Addie.”

“Night, Jackson.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JACKSON WAS RIGHT. Three days later, the temperature went up to the mid-forties, and the snow melted. I was standing on a chair looking out the tiny window. Sunlight gleamed off the puddles. The grass was brown and matted down, making the day look bleak, despite the sun.
 

I had been alone all day. Lily was at the club with Rochelle, and Phoebe had been bought for an overnight bachelor party. I wished I could tell the bride-to-be she was marrying a disgusting piece of shit. I jumped off the chair.

“Maybe he doesn’t know,” I said out loud to myself. Maybe the groom’s friends paid for Phoebe and it was all a surprise. Then I wondered if they even knew Phoebe was doing it against her will. Maybe they gave her the money and thought she went home to spend it on her shoe collection. They wouldn’t assume the money would be ripped out of her hands and she would get shoved back down here.

“It doesn’t make it right,” I muttered and shook my head. I began pacing around the basement, doing laps around the card table. I paused at the base of the stairs to bend over and touch my toes. I had never been flexible. The stretching hurt when my fingertips brushed the tops of my feet.
 

The kitchen floor creaked. I quickly straightened myself and dashed behind the stairs, holding my breath. I heard the locks slip back and the knob turn. The first step creaked under someone’s weight.

“Addie?” Jackson called. I felt instant relief and something else—that same warm flutter—at the sound of his voice. He clomped down the stairs. I went around and waited. Jackson stopped, standing a few feet in front of me. His eyes met mine, and he held my gaze for a couple seconds before he blinked and shook his head. “We have yard work to do.”

“Yard work?” I echoed. “It’s still winter.”

He frowned and shrugged. “I know. I think that’s the point; we’ll have to do it over again.”

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know. Nate just told me to get you.”

I crossed the basement and grabbed a coat. “At least it gets me out of here,” I mumbled. Jackson led the way up stairs, through the kitchen, and into the mudroom. I put on the oversized boots and followed Jackson into the garage. Nate stood in the driveway, looking as if he had just stepped off the set of an Armani photo shoot. His hair was exceptionally shiny in the sunlight, and his clothes were so well fitted, they had to be custom tailored. He waited for us to walk over.

“These bushes,” he said and waved at the front of the house. “They have to go.”

Jackson took a step forward, inspecting the row of boxwood bushes. “I just put those in this spring,” he blurted.

“I don’t care,” Nate said calmly. “Get rid of them. I want something with flowers instead.”

“It’s too early to plant anything,” I pointed out.

Nate turned to face me. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked, his intense eyes drilling into mine. I shook my head. “Good. I
know
it’s too early. That doesn’t matter.” His eyes darted back to the bushes. “Get rid of the bushes. Level the ground. Take everything out back and burn it.” His cold eyes flicked to my face. “Prove to me you’re worth keeping.” I stiffened and looked straight into his eyes. He turned his attention to Jackson. “I want it done by sunset.”

Jackson’s almond eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. I knew what he was thinking; there was no way we could get all of that done in just a few hours. “Yes, sir,” he said. Nate extracted his phone from his pocket and briskly walked away. I trailed behind Jackson as he went into the shed to get tools.
 

I ran my hands over the smooth wooden handle of a shovel and looked at the house.

“You have a weird look in your eye,” Jackson said to me. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about how nice it would be to beat Nate to death with a shovel. We could take him out and bury him in the backyard.” I glanced at Jackson. “No, we should leave him in the house so when Zane comes back and sees the bloody and mangled body, he’ll be shocked, and we can get him too.”

Jackson seemed taken aback by my violence, but then he smiled. “Sounds good to me,” he said and closed the shed, shovel and rake in hand.

“Seriously,” I stated and turned around. The oversized boots clomped through the damp lawn. “Let’s do it.”

“Addie, we can’t,” he said.

“Why not?

“A bullet is faster than swinging a shovel.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling dejected. “Damn.” We walked around to the front of the house.
 

“If I ever figure out the combination to get into his room at night, I’ll slit his throat in his sleep,” Jackson said very seriously.

“He has a combination lock on his bedroom door?” I asked.

Jackson nodded. “Zane too. Just like the ones on the exterior doors but with different codes.”

“Do you know the combinations?”
 

Jackson nodded and stepped up to the bushes. He thrust the shovel into the ground. A thin layer of mud squished away. What was underneath it was frozen, and only the tip of the spade went in. He picked it up and shoved it down again, barely making a mark on the cold dirt. “Just the ones for the exterior doors. One-three-four-two,” he told me. “For now.”

“What do you mean ‘for now?'” I moved in front of the bush next to Jackson.

“Nate randomly changes them. He’s really paranoid.” He chipped away at the ground. “I don’t always know them, either, and if you get the combination wrong, an alarm goes off.”

“Oh,” I said and lifted the shovel a foot from the ground only to jam in into the solid dirt. We worked in silence for a few minutes, slowly chipping away at the frozen ground. My hands hurt from gripping the handle of the shovel, and my shoulders were sore already. I had barely made a dent when I checked out Jackson’s progress, and was impressed to see he was much further along in digging up the bush than I was.

“What’s your favorite book?” Jackson asked when he saw me looking.

“Oh gosh,” I started. “I have like fifty books in my ‘Top Ten Favorites’ list.” I shook my head. “That’s a really hard question. I love so many. I will admit I’m biased toward paranormal or fantasy. There’s just something about the worlds those books take place in. I used to say I’d give anything to live in a magical land but now …” I sighed. “People usually thought I was weird when I said that.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Jackson quickly agreed. “I’d give anything to be anywhere else.”

I nodded and deeply inhaled the chilly air looking longingly at the street. I held my hand up to my forehead, shielding the bright sun from my eyes. Something moved by the mailbox. I squinted my eyes for a better look.

“Hey!” I said and dropped the shovel. “There’s a dog!” Without a second thought I walked away from the house.

“Addie, no, Nate could see you!” Jackson said. I didn’t heed his warning. “Addie!” he repeated. I heard a soft thud as his shovel hit the ground. “Adeline!” he called.

The dog saw me and froze. I knelt down and extended my hand. “Hey puppy,” I said quietly. The dog tucked its tail between its back legs and sniffed. “It’s okay, sweetie. I won’t hurt you.” It took a few steps forward.

“That’s a Pitbull. Be careful it could bite you!” Jackson stated.

“Don’t breed stereotype,” I said automatically. I made a kissing noise and wiggled my fingers. The dog slowly walked to me. “Hello beautiful,” I said to the dog. It was brown and black brindle and very skinny. “You’re a girl,” I observed as she pressed her nose into my hand. “Are you lost?” Her tail began to wag.
 

“She seems friendly,” Jackson said and knelt down next to me.
 

The dog cowered back. Jackson very slowly held out his hand. After nervously eyeing him for a few seconds, the dog sniffed him. She turned her attention back to me, wagging her tail again. She moved closer, trying to lick my face.
 

“She likes you,” Jackson said.

I smiled and gently put a hand on her back. Her tail wagged even more. “I think she used to be somebody’s. She likes people.” I opened my arms causing the dog’s excitement to grow even more. Her whole body wiggled with delight. “Are you a lonely girl? Poor little thing, all alone,” I said in a high-pitched voice. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I’ll take care of you.”

Jackson rocked back on his heels but didn’t say anything. We both knew there was no way I could take care of a dog, but for right now, I wanted to believe it. I could tell she had been on her own for a while, and I was sure as soon as we stood up and went back to the bushes, she would take off.

“I’ll share my lunch with you,” I told the dog and scratched her ears.

“We won’t get food until we’re done,” Jackson said dryly. “Nate won’t let us eat until this is finished.”

I suddenly felt very hungry. I looked at Jackson, and he gave me that pitying stare and frowned. With a heavy sigh I stood. Jackson’s knees cracked when he brought himself to his feet. We turned and walked together back to the house.

And the dog followed.

“Hey pretty lady,” I cooed with a smile. “Are you gonna help us dig up the bushes? You can probably dig better than I can.” I picked up the shovel and started stabbing at the ground. The dog pawed at my leg. I set the shovel down and turned. “You just want attention, huh?” I stepped over a row of dead hostas and sat on the cold, damp cobblestone. The dog left muddy paw prints on my pants as she climbed into my lap.

“You’re a little big to be a lap dog,” I laughed and hugged her. Jackson leaned on his shovel and watched. A tiny smile was present on his face. “You need a name, baby,” I told the dog. She turned around for a back scratch. “How about Rosie? You look like a Rosie to me?” She whipped around and licked my face. Laughing, I pushed her away.

“Rosie wandered up to the right person,” Jackson said. I looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back, causing some of the sadness to disappear from his bruised face. I turned my attention back to Rosie, baby talking to her. Out of corner of my eye, I saw Jackson start digging again.

“I’ll help you in a minute,” I promised.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and chipped a chunk of frozen dirt up. “Play with Rosie while you can.” He turned to the side and gave me another smile. I nodded and leaned forward, picking up a stick. I wiggled it in the air, watching Rosie’s reaction before I threw it. She chased after it, caught it, chewed it, but didn’t bring it back.

“Silly girl,” I said when she trotted to me. I petted her again and jogged away to get the stick. I played with her for a few more minutes before going back to the bushes to help Jackson. Giving up on the tiny hole I had started, I moved next to Jackson and helped him work on the same bush.

Rosie stayed by our sides, rolling in the mud and chewing on her stick while we worked. The sun was beginning to sink by the time we got the first bush close to coming out of the ground. Jackson pulled it while I chopped the bottom with my shovel until the roots snapped and broke off.

“Well, it’s not really out,” he said and looked at the tangled mess of roots that remained. “The ground shouldn’t be frozen that far down,” he told me. “So it won’t be as hard. I’ll start the next one, and you can get the roots out.”