by Taylor Dean
Jace doesn’t look at me, he just sits there with his head in his hands. I can tell he’s very upset.
“To be honest, I wanted to run away. I wanted to leave your apartment and never look back. But you looked awful and that’s the only thing that stopped me from leaving. You were deathly pale and a cold sweat covered your body. Your breathing was shallow and I knew you were very ill. You . . . um . . . had thrown up on the bed. I removed the blanket that was soiled, stuffed it in a garbage bag, and put it by your door. Then I locked the door so that lady couldn’t come back in. I have to admit, I really struggled with my emotions at that point. You had cheated on me and it hurt. But I couldn’t leave. You were clearly ill and I was worried about you. Yes, I was angry and betrayed, but my love for you didn’t disappear the moment I knew you had been with someone else. I had to stay and make sure you were okay. I was mad at myself for being unable to walk away, but I couldn’t leave you. So . . . I stayed.”
Jace looks up at me, astounded. “Wait a minute. You stayed with me?”
“I know, dumb move on my part. It’s just that you looked so ill and . . .”
“I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“I loved you.” I might as well say it now. “I still love you.”
He puts his head in his hands again. “I’ve wasted so much time.”
He doesn’t say anything more, so I continue. “I went back to the bedroom to check on you. You didn’t look good and when I touched your forehead you felt clammy and cold. I placed a couple pillows under your head to prop you up a bit. I was worried you might throw up again and I didn’t want you to be flat on your back. Then I wet a washcloth with cool water and covered your forehead. I wet another washcloth and wiped down your arms and chest. I didn’t know how else to make you more comfortable.”
Then I sat down in a chair next to his bed and cried my eyes out, but I don’t mention that part to Jace.
“You woke up twice and looked right at me. I knew you were confused, like you didn’t know where you were, but you said my name. Both times.”
He stands up as if he can’t take it anymore. “I have no recollection of that. None at all. I remember nothing from that night. Absolutely nothing.”
I’m not sure what I’m feeling at this point. I’m not happy and I’m not sad. I’m numb. “After you looked at me and said my name twice, I thought you knew that I had seen you. I thought you knew I’d been there. All this time, I’ve assumed you were too embarrassed to see me after that.”
He shakes his head in the negative, his eyes glittering. “No, Shay. No. That’s not how it was. I understand how it looked to you, but it’s not what you think.”
I still don’t completely understand what happened. “I stayed with you for the next several hours, just to make sure you were okay. I knew you’d had way too much to drink and that you just needed to sleep it off. But you were so out of it and I seriously considered calling for an ambulance. I didn’t care if they laughed at me for calling for help for a drunk man, I was worried about you. But then you didn’t get sick again. Your breathing returned to normal after a while. You still looked really pale, but I assumed you were going to be okay. I placed a bottled water on your nightstand, so it would be there when you finally woke up. I don’t know what you do to get over that kind of thing. I thought water might help flush your system. Then I left. When I arrived home, I bought a new cell phone and made arrangements to go to the west coast for college. I wanted to be as far away from you as possible. I left two days later and I never looked back.” I wipe away a few errant tears. I thought I was all cried out when it comes to Jace. Apparently not.
He’s just standing there staring at me with a look of incredulity on his face and I don’t know what to think.
I go on. “Until recently, it never really occurred to me that you didn’t remember seeing me there in your apartment. All these years, I just assumed that you, I don’t know, gave alcohol a try and took a liking to it. I mean, with your father and his addiction, I know that kind of thing runs in your genes. I thought you’d become an alcoholic or something and ended up having a one night stand. I had no idea if it was something you did all the time or if it was just that one time. It didn’t matter though. Once was enough. I didn’t really know if she was your girlfriend or anything, but she didn’t seem very . . . attached to you. And . . . I have to say, because you and I had decided to wait until marriage, it hurt. It hurt a lot.” Tears stream down my face and I can’t seem to stop them.
He closes his eyes and breathes in and out very slowly. He reaches out his hands to me and pulls me up to him. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me so tightly, I almost object.
“Thank you, Shay. Thank you for being there for me. I can’t believe you did that for me. Especially when you thought the worst. I knew you loved me, but I had no idea how much.” His words come out as a harsh whisper, as if he’s holding back emotion.
We stand there hugging each other tightly for several minutes. Jace seems overwhelmed and a sick feeling is building up inside of me. I know there’s more to the story and I fear what he’s about to tell me.
When he lets me go, he kisses my forehead sweetly and we sit back down on the couch.
I will my heart to stop beating so fast, but it’s useless. “I’ve wanted some kind of explanation for so long now. I wanted something—anything—that would clear your name in my heart. I know it was a foolish desire. I was positive you were drunk and having a one night stand. Please tell me I was wrong,” I plead.
“You were wrong.”
“How? I saw it all with my own eyes.”
I hope he’s not playing me for a fool. I want him to face me, to look in my eyes as he tells me the truth. But that’s not what he does. He returns to his former position, hunched over, elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. I’m a little disturbed by the sight. He’s not defensive, he’s dazed. This isn’t the behavior of a man who’s trying to deceive me.
“I remember very little from that night,” he starts. Then his phone rings, startling us. He stands and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Blake.”
His eyes fly to mine as he listens to whatever Blake is saying. “Is she okay?” He frowns as Blake explains. “I’ll be right there.” His voice is clipped.
My heart sinks. I know I’m going to have to wait to hear his side of the story.
His chest deflates heavily. “I’m sorry, Shay. I have to go. Mom passed out as she walked to the bathroom and she hit her head. We’re taking her to the hospital.”
I understand why he needs to go and I can’t argue. “I’m so sorry. Don’t apologize. Let’s go.” I grab my purse and start heading for the door.
“Shay, wait.” Jace takes my hands in his as we face each other. “I have so much to say to you. Everything will make sense, I promise. I can give you the explanation you’ve been wanting.”
I nod my head. I hate waiting, but his mom needs him and that comes first.
He leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips. We drive home quickly and he kisses me one more time before I leave his car. “We’ll talk again as soon as I can, okay?”
At my doorstep, I turn and watch him. He parks at the curb and runs into the house, in a hurry to get to his mother.
I enter the dark house and make my way upstairs. My legs feel heavy and the climb feels hard, as if my body suddenly weighs a ton. As I sit on my bed, lost in thought, I hear his car drive away quickly. I hope Irene is okay.
My mind is going over the events of the evening and it won’t turn off. There’s something weighing on me as I think about Jace’s response to my story. You saw her? You were there? I remember very little. Tell me everything. It’s not what you think.
He didn’t react to my story of what I witnessed that horrible night the way I thought he would. All I wanted was for him to admit he’d made a mistake and to give me an apology. Instead I feel as though I just opened a can of worms. His response was so strange. I should feel
relieved. I don’t. I feel a deep foreboding.
There’s a horrible thought screaming at me for attention and it turns my stomach. I don’t want to acknowledge it fully and make it real. The thought is there though and it won’t leave me alone. The possible scenarios for the scene I witnessed are chilling. I can’t dwell on them or I’ll never sleep a wink.
Jace said it’s not what I think. He confirmed that I was wrong in believing what I did.
If that’s the case, then what happened? And why is Jace so disturbed by the experience? I’m terrified of his explanation of what really happened that night—and yet I have to know.
One thing I know for sure. Whatever it is that he reveals to me, I will believe him. I know Jace and he can’t fake the extreme anxiety I saw in him this evening.
CHAPTER
Twelve
I AWAKEN IN the morning to a text from Jace.
MINOR CONCUSSION. WTF. (Well, that’s fantastic. Meant sarcastically, of course.) KEEPING HER FOR A DAY OR TWO FOR OBSERVATION. LOL (Lots of love.)
I hold the phone close to my chest and smile. I love that man.
I spend the day at the bakery, waiting for him to show up without warning when he has a free moment, ready to have a heart to heart. I make arrangements with my new employee to cover for me if I have to leave at a moment’s notice.
But the moment’s notice never comes.
Because Jace never comes.
Late that evening, I watch out the window as Jace arrives home from the hospital and walks his mother inside the house. I quickly change out of my pajamas and get dressed, knowing he’ll be over as soon as he gets his mother settled. We have so much to talk about.
I wait in the living room until midnight. He doesn’t show.
I spend my Saturday at the bakery once again. I tell myself over and over that Jace is busy taking care of his mother. But in my heart, I know I’m deluding myself.
He’s avoiding me.
My thoughts shift and turn. My trepidation over hearing about the horrible thing that happened to him is slowly fading. After all, what kind of explanation is there for getting caught in the act? There’s nothing he can say to make it okay. He knows it and I know it. I’m a sucker to believe otherwise. I wondered if . . . no, I’m delusional to assume the scene was anything besides what I witnessed. His lack of communication says more than he realizes.
Sunday is the worst. Sophie has a cold, so Stony and Spencer cancel coming out for Sunday dinner. Jace’s car is parked out front and I know he’s home.
Mom takes dinner over to them and when she returns she tells me that Jace says Irene is doing much better.
The news feels like a slap in the face. If she’s doing better, then why isn’t he coming to see me? Blake is home and he can get away.
I need to get out of the house, so I take Brit to the park and let her play until she actually asks me if we can go home now. That never happens.
After I put Brit to bed, I hang out in the living room watching TV. By the time the clock strikes eleven on Sunday night, I know Jace is not coming.
He doesn’t have an explanation and he’s avoiding me. That much seems obvious. And I feel like the biggest fool in the world. I actually thought something horrific had happened to him. In some ways, I think I was hoping for it because it would mean he hadn’t cheated on me—and yet how could I hope for such a thing? My mind is in turmoil.
He had no idea I was ready to forgive him if he could only admit his mistake and tell me he’s a changed man. Instead he’s hiding from me and the truth is screaming at me. What other explanation could there be for his silence?
After a long day at the bakery on Monday, I drag myself to the door to lock up. My heart is heavy. I really thought Jace and I had another chance. I see that chance slipping away by the hour.
Just as I flip the deadbolt shut and change the sign from open to closed, I look up and see Jace’s car parked right outside the bakery. He’s sitting in the car watching me and his expression is so serious, it sends a chill up my spine.
He gets out and walks to the door and we face each other with the glass dividing us. He’s dressed casually in a Henley with an unbuttoned flannel over it and jeans. I love the look on him and note that my attraction for him has not faded at all. His hair is a little spiky, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over. He takes out his phone and holds it above his head with both arms. I hear a muted version of I Think I Love You playing through the airwaves.
I don’t laugh. I’m not his Ladybug anymore.
Instead I take my phone out of my pocket and send him a text.
THINK IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
He checks his text, then replies.
PLEASE, SHAY.
I give in. Of course, I knew I would from the moment I saw him. Curiosity can be such a weakness. I unlock the door and let him in. The Jace that enters the bakery is a subdued Jace and one I’m entirely unfamiliar with. I miss my lighthearted and humorous Jace.
When he doesn’t say anything, I turn and go to the kitchen to finish cleaning up for the day. He follows, silently watching as he leans against the doorframe with his arms folded. After I wash several dishes, he grabs a towel and dries them. Without being asked, he then wipes down the countertops.
When we’re done cleaning, I don’t really know what to do. He hasn’t said a word.
Finally he says, “I don’t want to tell you anything about that night. Not one single thing.” His eyes blink heavily. “I want to pretend like it never happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“If I don’t tell you, I lose you.”
I nod. “Yes, that’s true.” It won’t work between us if there are secrets hanging over our heads.
“I’m sorry about the last few days. I couldn’t face it.”
“You mean you couldn’t face me?”
“No, it. I couldn’t face it.” Slowly, he takes a folded paper out of his pocket. “In many ways, this single piece of paper explains everything.” He hands it to me.
I accept it, unfold the paper, and stare at it with a sinking heart.
It’s a toxicology report, dated a few days after the exact day I surprised him with an unexpected visit. It says he had abnormally high levels of flunitrazepam in his system.
“I don’t know what that is. What does this mean?” I think I can guess, but I need him to say it.
His eyes, again, blink slowly as if his eyelids are very heavy.
“Tell me, Jace. Tell me what actually happened that night.” My imagination is going wild.
“It won’t be easy for you to hear.”
“Regardless, I need to face it.”
Resigned, he starts to tell me his story. “Honestly, I don’t remember much.” His voice is gravelly, thick with emotion. “I met a friend—a guy friend—at a restaurant and we had dinner together. It was crowded and the tables were close together. He had to leave early and I stayed to finish my dinner and hang out for a while. Finals were over and I just wanted to relax. I got up to use the restroom and then returned to my table. I paid my bill and I finished my soda. I have a vague recollection of starting to feel a little dizzy and that’s it. That’s the last thing I remember.”
I close my eyes until the pain in my chest subsides. I wanted an explanation. Now that I have it, I don’t want it. I don’t want this to have happened to my Jace. He did exactly what women are told to never do. He left his drink unattended. It’s a textbook scenario. But he’s a guy and this kind of thing doesn’t happen to men. Right?
Wrong.
He looks up at the ceiling and rubs his neck. “I remember nothing of that night. Absolutely nothing. I’ve wracked my brain, trying to remember anything, even a small glimpse of a moment. But there’s nothing. I’m completely blank, as if my memory has been erased.”
Tears prick at my eyes and I hold them back. I wish I could erase that night from both of our memories.
“I woke up in my bed the next morning, feel
ing like a truck had hit me. I’d never felt so sick in my entire life. I couldn’t remember how I got home the night before and I didn’t know why I was so sick.”
He reaches out and touches my cheek softly.
“I drank the water by my bed. It was the only thing that gave me the strength to sit up. I had no idea you had been there or that you had left it for me.”
My face crumples. I can’t seem to control my tears. I turn my lips into his palm and kiss it several times. Such a small thing. I had no idea how much that water would help him.
“I tried to get up. I was so weak, I couldn’t even stand. I called a friend for help. I told him I needed to go to the emergency room right away. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was dizzy, I had the worst headache I’ve ever known, I couldn’t move my arms and legs normally, and I could hardly think straight. At the hospital, they did a bunch of tests on me, to include blood work.” He scoffs. “They thought I was a drug overdose case. I didn’t enlighten them. At that point I was beginning to have my suspicions and I didn’t want to voice them. They asked me what I had taken and I told them the truth. I said I didn’t know. Whatever it was, they told me I had overdosed and I was lucky to be alive. They kept me in the hospital for the next few days. My friend was with me when the doctor came to tell me my test results.”
I know what he’s about to say, but I ask anyway. “What did they find?”
“The toxicology report showed that I had high levels of flunitrazepam in my system.”
“What exactly is that?”
“Otherwise known as rohypnol. It has a lot of nicknames. Roofies, Mind Eraser, Forget Pill. It’s only in your system for about seventy-two hours, so there’s a short window of time to get tested. It was a good thing I went in to the hospital right away or I never would’ve known what had happened to me. Just suspicions. The thing is by the time I went to the hospital, it had been about twelve hours and I had drank that bottled water you left for me. Yet the levels of rohypnol were still pretty high and by that point they shouldn’t have been that high. The lady who did this to me didn’t know what she was doing and gave me an overdose. She could have killed me and really, it’s a miracle she didn’t. On top of that, the doctors felt I had a bad reaction to the drug. I could have told them that.”
