Page 80 of Unravel Me

My stomach drops at the sound of that nickname. Only one person in the world has ever called me Drey. I say a silent prayer that I'm mistaken as I spin around at the edge of the driveway.

Jackson Tippins takes a few cocky steps towards me, a lit cigar in hand, his white button down undone around his neck, as he locks a sports car behind him on the street.

I fold my arms across my chest instinctively, hoping the shadowy night disguises the tear streaks down my face. It’s been over three months since I’ve seen his face, and for once I’m flabbergasted at what I could’ve ever seen in him. He wears arrogance as a proud aura and it’s almost too much to handle; so much that it takes a moment to register we are here, standing together on my parent’s property.

“You can’t be serious,” I mumble to myself. “Why the hell did you even show up here?” I jab at Jackson who drags his cigar from his lips. I wave the smoke away from my face.

“I’m actually supposed to be in Vegas this weekend for a bachelor party, but what kind of business partner would I be if I didn’t come celebrate?” He shrugs, his eyes narrowed at me. “Plus, your parents nearly begged me to show up after you RSVP’d.” He winks, and the streetlights around me start to waver.

Mark this as the second time the blood has drained from my whole body today. Jackson takes a few steps towards me, close enough that I can see his green eyes glistening. They’re foreign to me now, cold and sharp, and I can’t believe there was a time I could look into them and see my future. Or love.

But right now, all I can do is stand in my bare feet, mouth dry and mind whirling.

“Oh, come on honey, you had to know they wouldn’t stop trying to get the pack back together?” As he laughs, bile rises in my throat.

Jackson takes a step closer, close enough I could smell his cologne now, filling me with nausea.

“I’m not too proud to say I screwed up, but come on Drey, you know we belong together. It makes sense.” He drops the cigar nub, grinding it into the pavement with his leather loafers. “Don’t be mad at your father or me. It’s just business, baby. Look on the bright side, in a few weeks, your stocks are going to double.” He has the audacity to wink at me. As if money makes this okay. As if cheating on your fiancé, or lying to your daughter, or because it’s just business made everything okay.

“I need to leave,” I mutter, one hand clutching my head, the other pressed against my stomach, as the cocktail glass slips from my grasp. It crashes to the ground, shattering into jagged pieces at my feet, the sound cutting through the air like a scream.

“Holy shit Audrey, try to be an adult and cut the dramatics. I assured your father there was no bad blood between us. Don’t make me look like a fool.” He held out his hand and it takes everything in me not to scream. Instead, I swat his hand away.

“Fuck off, Jackson. And don’t call me Drey.” I throw my head back in disbelief. “Need I remind you this mess is entirely your fault?”

“This right here, this fit of yours, is exactly why I cheated in the first place. You’re a spoiled bitch who—”

Jackson’s voice halts mid-sentence, silenced by a deep voice that cuts through the air behind me.

“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence.”

My body stiffens, and I steal a glance to my left where Rhett stands just a few feet away, his jaw rigid with tension. My gaze snaps back to Jackson as he spits out another insult.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, man, but this doesn’t concern you. Step over the glass, Audrey, and come inside. It's time to act like civilized adults instead of this pathetic display. Can you handle that?” Jackson steps forward, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me over the shattered glass.

“Let go of me, Jackson! I’m not going anywhere with you!” He drops my feet to the ground but tightens his grip on my arm.

In a flash, Jackson is yanked off his feet, his fingers tearing away from me as Rhett’s fist grips the front of his shirt.

“What the—” is all he manages to spat out before Rhett’s free fist makes contact with Jackson’s jaw. With my own dress twisted in my hands, I step back, mouth hanging wide open.

Jackson’s back hits the grass as Rhett kneels over him, his reddened fist trembling inches from Jackson’s bloodied lip.

“Rhett, stop! Get off him!” My limbs shake as I reach for Rhett’s shoulder, pulling him back. He stands, shirt askew, and Jackson springs up, hand clutching his jaw. Rhett narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at my ex.

“If you ever so much as look in her direction again, I will snap your fucking neck.” His words send chills down my spine, and the tension hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating; as if one single breath could reignite the fight at any moment.

Jackson spits blood into the grass, splatters hitting Rhett's shoes.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he shouts, palming his own chest.

Rhett laughs, cocking his head back. “I know exactly who you are.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“Let’s go, Rhett.” I turn, grabbing his arm to lead him back to the car. I’m not sticking around to watch this turn into more of a blood bath.

“Should’ve known.” Jackson let out a snarled laugh. “Of course he’s with you, Drey.”