Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 89

Chapter 89

Jackson

The second my bedroom door shut behind me, the weight of what I’d said came crashing down.

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I stood there in the dark, breathing hard, my pulse still thrumming from the argument downstairs. I could hear the faint sound of the TV, the muffled quiet of the house that always felt too big and too small at the same time.

“Damn it,” I muttered, slamming my fist lightly against the door. The sting in my knuckles didn’t even come close to matching the ache sitting in my chest.

I shouldn’t have gone off on her like that.

But at the same time… I couldn’t stop it. Everything inside me had been building for months–pressure, resentment, guilt–and tonight it finally cracked open.

I hated how things were with Noah. I hated how awkward things had become between me and Jessa. And I hated most of all how it all made me feel–like I was losing everything and everyone who mattered.

I grabbed my phone off the dresser, staring at the screen for a long moment before unlocking it. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure what I even wanted to say or who I wanted to say it to.

Before I could think too much about it, I typed:

You up?

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Mariah: Always. What’s up, Quarterback?

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know how.

Instead, I shoved my phone into my pocket, grabbed my keys, and headed out the back door.

The night air hit me like a slap–cool and sharp. The neighborhood was quiet, porch lights glowing here and there, crickets filling the silence. I climbed into my truck and drove without really thinking about where I was going.

I just needed to move. Needed to breathe.

When I finally pulled over, I realized I’d ended up in front of Mariah’s house, Figures.

Her front porch light was still on, a soft yellow glow cutting through the dark. I leaned back in my seat, running a hand through my hair, trying to calm the chaos spinning inside me. I didn’t even text her again—1 just sat there, engine idling, staring at the steering wheel like it might have answers.

A few minutes later, the front door opened. Mariah stepped out in leggings and an oversized hoodie, her hair pulled up into a messy knot. She spotted my truck, tilted her head, and then, with that confident stride that

18:36 Mon, Oct 13

Chapter 89

was all her, walked down the steps and across the yard.

She opened the passenger door without a word and slipped inside.

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“Well,” she said, buckling her seatbelt like this was a normal thing. “This is different. I usually get the ‘we need to talk‘ text from your sister, not you.”

I let out a humorless laugh and rubbed my face. “This is wrong. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Maybe,” she said, leaning back in the seat. “But you did. So clearly you need to talk. And lucky for you, I’m at fantastic listener.”

I stared out the windshield, the tension in my shoulders refusing to let go. “I feel like I’m losing everything.”

I gave a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, try telling that to the part of me that doesn’t know how to turn it off.”

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