Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

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Jessica’s POV

I stayed exactly where the conversation with Wendy had left me–curled up in the deepest corner of Aaron’s room.

My knees were folded tight to my chest, my arms wrapped around them like a protective, inadequate shield.

The world outside the window was a blur of hazy afternoon light the world inside me was an oppressive, suffocating dark.

I was lost in the deepest, most desolate corners of my mind, drowning in thoughts too heavy to carry, when the sudden, sharp buzz of my phone beside me broke the silence.

My brow furrowed. A text? Who could it be? I had absolutely no friends, no social circle; my contacts were strictly limited to Aaron, my boss, and the occasional interaction with Fallon, a colleague at work.

The isolation made the simple alert feel deeply strange

Ignoring it should have been easy, a simple matter of choosing peace over intrusion. Yet, the persistent hum of the unanswered message started a slow, insidious burn of curiosity in my chest.

It wasn’t long before that burn forced my body to move.

The phone’s blue light flashed, a stinging jolt to my eyes as I picked it up. And there it was, the name that twisted my stomach into a knot: Rose. My step–sister.

I didn’t think she even had my number, let alone cared to use it.

Why? What could she possibly want? My fingers went instantly clammy, slick with sudden anxiety.

I inhaled a shaky, deep breath, trying to steady the frantic drumbeat in my ears before I finally tapped the screen.

The words felt less like a text and more like a poisonous summons: “I can’t believe I’m texting you. Dad asked me to tell you to come back home for my birthday celebration. You already know what will happen if you defy this.”

I stared at the words, reading them over and over until they blurred, sinking into my skull like poison.

I could picture her smirking as she typed, her voice dripping with that familiar condescension. The combination of it all didn’t just make me sad; it sent a spike of searing, familiar depression through me.

“No,” I whispered, the sound raw and weak.

With a surge of impotent rage, I turned the phone off and hurled it toward the corner of the room, watching it skid across the floor.

The highest thing he’ll do is threaten me, hit me, or insult me. So what? It was nothing new. It wasn’t like he was taking care of my bills or paying for my education. I had nothing to lose.

My father–that sperm donor–hadn’t given a rat’s ass about me since the day I was born. It had been months, possibly a year, since he last spoke to me, and he hadn’t bothered to ask how I was doing once.

When he did call, it was only to demand I send Rose a portion of my meager, hard–earned waitress tips so she could attend some “important” event.

Rose and I shared the same birthday, the same day in July. To prove how completely invisible I was to him, he had never once celebrated my birthday, not with a cake, a gift, or even a simple wish. I would have accepted a hollow, mumbled prayer.

I was always the girl who clapped from behind. And when he succeeded in throwing an extravagant bash for Rose, I became

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Chapter 18

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the servant gil, gliding between guests with dirty plates, enduring the mocking whispers of other children, and the outright cruelty of Rose and her friends.

That was my life for eighteen years; unloved, unseen, the doormat everyone stepped on. I’d finally mustered the courage to flee New Orleans for college in Florida, escaping the abuse, the toxicity that had shaped me into this broken thing.

I didn’t realize I was weeping until the first hot, stinging tears splashed onto my folded knees. It was in that moment, when the silence was thick with my own misery, that a familiar voice cracked through the air.

“Hey, Jess? The girls are having a spa day, and I guess they’ll hit the pool after. Wouldn’t you like to join them?”

Aaron’s voice broke the silence, casual and unaware, pulling me back to the room.

I angled my face away, swiping at my cheeks frantically, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

His presence suddenly brought Wendy’s words crashing back. My emotions, already raw, were fueled into an inferno.

My heart didn’t just ache; it burned with a pain so intense it felt physically crushing.

Why do I have this life? Unloved, unseen, ugly… the girl by the corner whom everyone could step over. It hurts, so damn much.

My silence and the subtle, sharp sniffles that followed drew his attention immediately.

“Jess?” he called gently, his footsteps padding closer, slow and careful.

“Are you crying again?”

He was close now. His scent–a clean, crisp mix of cedar and laundry soap, permeated the surrounding air, suddenly making it difficult for me to breathe, to think.

He dropped to his knees in front of me. With a gentle firmness that brokered no argument, he unpeeled my desperate grip from my knees, and then, his thumb brushed my chin.

He lifted my gaze until I had no choice but to meet the raw concern burning in his eyes.

That’s when I shattered. The sobs I’d been choking back erupted, raw and ugly, tears streaming unchecked.

“I… I want to leave, Aaron. Please, let me go,” I choked out, my voice cracking and dissolving. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

He just stared, his expression unreadable, those honey–brown eyes searching mine.

“I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me in the past four years. B–but this…” I flicked my trembling fingers, pointing between the two of us, a gesture encompassing his kindness, my debt, and the current arrangement.

“…isn’t how I can repay you. I want to help you out, Aaron, I swear I do. I want to repay your kindness. I’m ready to work, I’m ready to take a job, but this… the humiliation, the bullying… I can’t. It hurts….”

My desperate ramble was cut short when he gently cupped my cheeks, his thumbs stroking the wet tracks on my face. His eyes, intense and caring, bored into mine.

“What exactly hurts, Jess?” he asked, his voice low, steady, and utterly gentle. “Tell me.”