Lost at the Start

12.

My relief was practically palpable when I willed myself to Jackson and found myself back in his room, rather than another surprise drop into his car.

Though I was a little confused to find that the room was empty and quiet, the overhead light being on the only real indication anyone had been in the room recently. And even then, if Jackson's family left lights on and didn't have a family member like my dad that went around turning them off, there was a chance the light didn't even mean anything, either.

Still, the fact that I had indeed come to his house told me he kind of had to be around...somewhere. And if this time was anything like this morning, he'd be along shortly.

So I hesitantly perched myself on the edge of the bed and began the battle of indecision over whether or not I wanted him to see me the minute he walked in—meaning I'd go ahead and make an effort to be visible—or if I wanted to wait until after he showed up to bother trying to let him see me.

Honestly, I wasn't sure which was the better option. I could potentially scare him really badly if I was just there when he came back from wherever he was, but if I waited a few minutes, I'd put myself in danger of not wanting to reveal myself and just keep observing, which would have infinitely bad things to say about my moral standings.

That, and I knew myself well enough to know I'd feel guilty about watching him without him knowing. And I already felt bad enough about so much that had happened today that involved Jackson already...

"Meow."

My head swiveled automatically to the floor to find Cinnamon staring up at me, having drawn me from my thoughts with his outburst.

I couldn't hold back a small smile. "Hi Cinnamon." I reached down and scooped the cat up and into my lap. He meowed again and started purring loud enough to rival a motorboat.

At least I didn't have to worry about my sense of conscious and self where the cat was concerned. As long as I could pet him and make him happy, and didn't intentionally try to harm him, it didn't much matter anything else I did.

For a few minutes, it was nice to go back to just sit there and relieve a little stress by playing with Cinnamon.

But once I started thinking about it, I realized that I hadn't checked my watch in a little while, and all the stress I'd managed to let go of came roaring back.

My had froze on Cinnamon's back, and he turned to look at me, as if to ask why I'd suddenly stopped petting him. Though I highly doubted, even if he could understand English, that the feline would understand my fresh wave of turmoil.

I was petrified at the thought of looking at my watch to see the time. What if I'd lost more precious minutes—maybe even hours—that I wasn't going to get back? What if I really had been somehow moving through time as well as space when I willed myself somewhere, without realizing it, and now I'd put myself weeks ahead of where I was supposed to be, without knowing how or even if I could get back?

The overthinking mind I'd harbored for over a decade and a half rocketed into overdrive at the infinite, bad possibilities swarming the thought of there suddenly being another block of time I couldn't account for between a few hours ago and now.

A mumbled swear north of where I was sitting caught my frazzled attention just before I would've pushed myself into the mental deep end trying not to panic, and I looked up to find Jackson hissing in pain and holding his elbow.

Cinnamon gently pawed at my stomach until I started running my hand along his fur again while I watched Jackson close the door and inspect his elbow before starting to walk towards me.