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Avery's POV
The knife slipped from my fingers.
It didn't fall immediately.
It caught on the edge of the counter, vibrated for half a second…
then crashed onto the floor with a sharp crack.
I flinched.
Jackson didn't move.
He was there.
In the doorway.
Still.
His silhouette looked almost unreal, as if my mind had summoned him to keep me from falling apart. His presence filled the room—yet he kept his distance.
I tried to breathe.
The air stayed trapped in my chest.
My shoulders suddenly gave way, like something inside me had snapped. I ran a hand through my hair clumsily, gripping it as if it were a railing keeping me upright.
My knees buckled.
I didn't even try to resist.
I slid down the counter and hit the floor heavily. The cold from the wood seeped through my jeans instantly, but I barely noticed.
My breathing turned erratic.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
Jackson stayed silent.
I only heard the faint rustle of his clothes as he stepped closer. He crouched down in front of me, a few feet away—close enough for me to feel him there…
but without touching me.
As if he were holding himself back.
"Avery…" he murmured.
His voice was low. Careful.
"Are you okay?"
I didn't answer.
My hand rose to my face. I pressed my fingers against my temple, then over my eyes, as if I could stop the images from coming back. My fingers trembled.
I looked up at him.
I had nothing to say.
My eyes said it for me.
His jaw tightened. He nodded slowly, as if accepting something he didn't like.
"Okay…"
Silence settled between us.
Dense.
Almost suffocating.
My throat burned when I finally spoke.
"What are you doing here?"
My voice sounded hoarse. Scraped raw. Unfamiliar.
"Claire called me," he replied immediately. "Sam told her. He was worried about you."
I didn't react.
My gaze drifted slowly to the floor.
To the white mark.
The outline.
My stomach clenched.
"You know?" I asked without looking at him.
I saw him swallow. His eyes flicked away for a fraction of a second before returning to me.
"Yes."
One word.
Sharp.
Heavy.
"I know about the body found here."
A shiver ran through me. I bit the inside of my lip, trying to contain whatever was threatening to rise up.
Jackson was watching me with almost painful focus.
"What happened, Avery?" he asked, even softer.
I stared at the floor.
"I don't know."
My voice lacked conviction.
And I knew it.
The silence returned.
Heavier.
"Okay…" he exhaled. "Then where were you?"
The question hit something inside me.
My mind snapped awake.
Dad's notebook.
The keys.
The reason I had escaped my mother's surveillance.
I tried to stand slowly. My legs protested immediately and I almost collapsed. Jackson reached out on instinct.
"Let me—"
"No. I can do it myself."
I pushed his hand away without looking at him. My fingers gripped the edge of the cabinet and I managed to straighten up, unsteady.
He stepped back at once.
His silence said enough. I could feel his worry. His restrained judgment.
"Then answer me," he said, firmer now.
"It's none of your business."
"Fine," he replied calmly. "Then where are your mom and your brother?"
I straightened further, forcing my body to cooperate.
"Still none of your business."
I headed toward my father's office.
"Avery—"
"What?" I snapped, turning abruptly.
He stopped short.
"I'm here to help you."
A humorless laugh rose in my throat.
"I don't need help. And even if I did… it wouldn't be from you."
I saw his face close off.
The hurt flashed in his eyes before he masked it.
I looked away.
"Tell Sam and Claire I'm fine. You can leave now."
I turned my back on him.
His hand closed around my arm.
Firm.
I flinched, my breath cutting off.
"What are you doing? Let go!"
"You're hiding something."
His voice had changed. Harder.
"Let go of me, Jackson."
"Stop lying to me. I know you."
I tried to pull away. His grip tightened—not violent, but determined.
"You just found out a body was discovered in your house, and you didn't even ask who it was. You're acting like none of this is touching you."
"Jackson… stop…"
"You were scared. I saw it. But of what?"
"Stop…" I whispered, almost pleading.
He took a deep breath.
"And who is Killian?"
Everything froze.
The blood drained from my face.
My heart skipped.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about…"
"You're lying," he breathed.
He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was fighting something, then his voice cracked slightly.
"I don't know what you've been through. But I'm here. I've always been here, Avery."
"You've always been here…" I repeated with a bitter smile.
"Yes. You're the one who shut down. Who pulled away."
"I pulled away?" I shot back. "The guy who acted like a jerk after he got what he wanted—that was you."
"It wasn't like that—"
"Then what was it? Disappearing for days without any explanation?"
My voice shook. I was unraveling.
"It's complicated," he said, loosening his grip slightly.
"It's always complicated with you."
I finally pulled free.
He went quiet.
I stood there, heart pounding too fast. I wanted to speak. To tell him how much he'd hurt me… or to ask him to stay.
But the words wouldn't come out right.
"You have no idea what I went through after—"
I didn't finish.
He looked at me for a long moment.
"I do."
"You do…" I echoed bitterly.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Loaded with old, unsaid things.
"If you have nothing else to say, get out of my house."
He didn't move.
"I told you to get out!" I shouted.
A creak in the floorboards behind him cut me off.
A step.
Slow.
A cold shiver crawled up my spine.
Jackson noticed it too.
"What is it?" he asked.
I stared at the front door.
I swallowed.
"Avery…" he said, turning around.
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