Hate To Miss You (2) | 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙷𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜 ❈

Seven

Jack was pulling into the parking lot of Morning Glory in a matter of moments, his eyes searching for me desperately, but I knew his car, it was the same RAM pickup that he'd had in high school, only upgraded. I near ran out to him, tears pooling in my eyes as he jumped out of the car, not wasting a second to scoop me up in his arms, holding me tight in his warm embrace.

I never wanted him to let go, I felt safe with Jack, like no one could ever get to me, and like my heart was at ease. Everything was as it should be, when I was in Jack's arms. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, the ends of his hair ticking my nose, but I didn't mind.

He held me tight, suffocatingly so, and I realised that this was the first time we'd hugged since high school. I'm not sure what it was, maybe his familiar scent that I'd missed so much, or the fact that I felt so violated, that Reid has witnessed an intimate moment between Jack and I without me releasing, a moment I didn't remember myself. Either way, I started to sob, hard. I felt like I was being robbed of any form of real happiness.

I couldn't have Jack, not really, and I couldn't go home now, without feeling like I was being watched. My skin crawled, and I clutched on Jack tighter.

"What happened?" He whispered, stroking my hair.

I wasn't ready to talk, I couldn't. All I could do was choke out a forced: "Not here."

He understood what I meant, and guided me towards his car with his hand on the small of my back. Jack looked around cautiously, his eyes scanning the car park, just to make sure there was no people with cameras following or watching. He'd seen the article this morning, only fuelling his dislike for paparazzi. He loved being in the NHL, but he hated that nothing he did was ever private. He couldn't even make his own mistakes or kiss the girl he loved without the world knowing about it.

A part of him—a big part—felt bad for me, and what I may be about to go through, particularly on social media. Jack's fans were ruthless, and mostly girls, and they loved Hillary Blake. But, it didn't matter that they liked her, it mattered that he didn't.

When Jack and I were in the safety of his car, and I was sure nobody was watching us, I finally calmed down. He turned to me, his eyes wide and eyebrows pulled together in worry.

"Please tell me what happened," he asked. "How do you know it was Reid?"

I took a deep breath, opening my phone. "It's better if I just show you."

Holding my phone out for Jack to grab, I watched as his face went from worried, to pale, to angry in a matter of seconds. He read the texts, fists clenching and scowl deepening.

"I knew I should have ripped him apart all those years ago," Jack growled. "How the fuck does he know where you live?"

"I don't know," I whispered, terrified. "Why is he even here? It's not like I told many people I'd moved here."

"Social media, maybe?" Jack asked, referring to the article, but that was posted this morning, and Jack and I had spent the night together last night.

"Nobody can know about last night," I breathed, staring at him. "What if he tells? What if those photos get out? My life will be over."

"He's not going to do that," Jack told me, lacing our fingers together. I pulled away, awkwardly, and he looked at me with confusion in his eyes.

"How can you be sure?" I sighed, looking down at my hands. "And, we can't be like that, Jack, you're with Hillary. I don't want to be your second option. I won't compete with another girl for you."

"You don't have to compete, Lyla," he told me, frowning. "You're always going to be my first option."

I shook my head. "Not while you're still with her."