Chapter Sixteen

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed another tray of food placed at the edge of the bed with a badly cooked omelet, hash browns, sliced kiwi and a glass of OJ.

  Ritualistically, I brushed my teeth first, had a quick shower and pulled on a t-shirt from the wardrobe. I was actually starting to like Jackson's choice of clothes that he'd bought for me.

  I reached out for the tray of food before sniffing it. The omelet tasted alright, but a little on the saltier side. Jackson was a bad cook indeed. When I was done eating, I climbed out of bed reluctantly and made my way out of the bedroom to find Jackson sprawled on the couch with a book in his hand.

I recalled all the events of the previous night and how I continued to accuse him even after he'd repeatedly told me he was innocent. I realized that lashing out on him wasn't going to get me anywhere. If anything, I had to stay calm and find another way.

There was one thing that was clear, Jacks