by Jamie Canosa
“But, I can’t even—”
“That doesn’t matter. None of that is important. I’m the problem here, not you.”
“But, you’re not, Jay! I love you. You’re everything I need.” The raw plea in her voice nearly did him in. He was so close to giving in, to giving up, that he could feel himself teetering on the edge of his resolve. More than anything he wanted to just let go and fall right back into her arms, but he couldn’t. He had to be strong. For her. He owed her at least that much.
Em was his angel, sent into hell to pull him out. The light at the end of his tunnel. But that left him the tunnel before her, filled with nothing but darkness. A darkness polluted enough to snuff out even her light. She’d been his saving grace. He wouldn’t be the cause her suffering.
“Em, listen to me.” Ducking his head to put them at eye level, he took her face gently between his palms. “I took you in when you had no one. Before me, you had no one. And no one since. Don’t you see? You have nothing to compare me to. No idea of what else is out there. What you’re missing. What you deserve. Things are different now. You’re safe now.” And he would die to make sure she stayed that way. He was, because this was killing him.
“Because of you.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does!”
“It doesn’t! Listen to me, Em. You owe it to yourself to at least see. To give yourself the chance before it’s too late. You’ll see that I’m right.”
“I won’t!”
“Dammit, Em!” That girl could be so stubborn. “You have to at least try. You can’t just stay bound to me because of the past. You have to think about the future. Your future.”
“You’re my future, Jay.”
“That’s only because you haven’t allowed yourself to see any other options. Em, listen to me. Please, just listen. Give yourself some time. Take a chance. Just look around you and allow yourself to consider other possibilities.” The words tasted like acid in his throat. The very thought felt like a razor against his wrist, a noose around his neck. Losing her would be the death of him—he knew that—but her happiness was worth it. He’d sacrifice anything for that.
“But, I—”
“For me. Em, I need you to do this for me. I can’t spend my whole life feeling like I tricked you into loving me. That I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable and made you love me. Can you understand that?”
She didn’t. He could see it written all over her face. She wanted to argue, insist he was wrong some more—he could see that, too—but she didn’t. Instead, her shoulders slumped on a deep sigh and she just looked so incredibly tired. Even out on the streets he couldn’t remember her ever looking so . . . defeated.
He’d never hated winning an argument more. But this was what she needed. Whatever spell he’d cast on her out on the streets, he’d broken it. She’d see clearly now. See how bad he was for her. For anyone. She’d come to her senses and then the one thing he’d feared most since he first laid eyes on her would happen. He’d lose her.
Chapter Eighteen
Em
A loud crash had Em nearly jumping out of her skin and twisting away from Jay to glance out the small porthole window set in the swinging door at Sahara who was glaring at a plate on the floor as though it had broken her.
“Em?” With careful fingers Jay drew her back to him. His words had cracked her heart, but the look on his face destroyed it.
“Please don’t do this, Jay. Please.” Clasping his face between her palms, she pulled him closer until their lips were a mere inch apart. If he’d wanted to, he could have simply leaned forward and closed the gap. He didn’t. “Don’t push me away. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Tears sprang into his eyes, but he blinked them away. “I’m so sorry, Em. I am so sorry. But, you’ll see I’m right.”
The clatter of dishes was overwhelming. The hum of conversation buzzed like an annoying insect trapped inside her head. She couldn’t think with him looking at her like that. Couldn’t breathe. She needed to breathe, to relieve the fire burning in her lungs and scorching her heart. What she needed was to get the hell out of there.
Retreating from his touch, Em fled across the restaurant, out the door, and across the lot to Ashlyn’s car without ever looking back. Not once. If she did, it would all fall apart.
He wanted her to move on? Fine, she’d show him moving on. After all, that’s what she did. She moved on from one epic disaster in her life to the next. She should be a pro by now.
“Are you okay?” Ashlyn’s voice brought her back to the present and Em realized she’d been seething quietly, staring out into the darkness through the passenger side window for most of the drive home.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”
“What did he say?”
Em hesitated. Mentally she was spitting bullets, but if she tried to put voice to any of those thoughts she knew what would happen. She couldn’t cry anymore. “Nothing.”
Ashlyn didn’t push. Em respected that about her. She reminded Em a lot of Sam, always knowing just what to say and exactly when to say nothing at all. It must be some kind of sixth sense they both possessed. Idly, she wondered if she should call Sam. If anyone could talk some sense into Jay, it was him. But she couldn’t keep bothering him with all of her problems. He’d done more than enough for them already and remained a close friend. This was her mess to clean up and somehow she’d find a way to do it.
Ashlyn had just put the car in park when headlights lit up the interior. Em squinted into the side mirror at the car pulling into the drive behind them. It didn’t look familiar.
“Perfect timing.” Ash rubbed her hands together like she was plotting some dastardly deed.
“Who is that?”
“I ordered Chinese. We’re celebrating.”
For the life of her, Em couldn’t think of a single thing worth celebrating at the moment. “What?”
“I get to keep you a little while longer.” She threw open her door and darted toward the blue sedan idling in the drive.
Ash was celebrating . . . her? She wanted her there? Other than Jay, Em hadn’t felt wanted by anyone for a long, long time.
“You coming?” Ash tapped on the window, juggling two brown paper bags.
Shaking off the stunned feeling that held her immobile, Em slipped out of the car and followed her inside. Ashlyn tossed her the remote—a terrible idea—while she set about collecting plates and silverware from the kitchen. The TV buzzed to life and Em started flipping idly through channels until she grew bored and tossed the remote aside. She’d never been much of a TV viewer.
“What the hell are you watching?” Ash handed her a plate and dropped down on the couch beside her.
“Umm . . .” Em glanced at the television to see some totally ripped guy singing the praises of some all-in-one home gym. “I don’t know.”
“Never took you as the meathead type,” Ashlyn teased, scooping up the remote and continuing to channel surf.
Darkness slowly encroached on the room as Em picked at her dinner and allowed her thoughts to drift away.
***
“He’s such an idiot.” Stuffed to capacity with pork fried rice and one too many fortune cookies, Em reclined on the couch. Something flickered on the television, but she hadn’t been paying any attention to it. Replaying her conversation with Jay over, and over, and over again.
Ash visually scanned Em with a smirk. “Well, duh.”
“No. I mean he’s really an idiot. He thinks . . . He actually believes he’s not good enough for me. If anyone’s not good enough for—”
“Stop right there. You’re both idiots.” Ash threw up her hands and laid it out there. “You’re perfect for each other. You make each other better when you’re together. And if either one of you can’t see that, you must be blind. You’re like . . . soulmates. And as sappy as that crap sounds . . . I wish I had what you two have.”
“But we don’t have it.” The be
st Em could manage was a whisper, afraid declaring it any louder would shatter her heart. “Not anymore.”
The volume didn’t seem to matter, though. The words were enough to push her over the edge and tears welled up so fast she couldn’t blink them back before they overflowed, streaming down her cheeks.
“Oh, Em.” Ash scooted closer and wrapped her arms around Em’s shoulders. The touch didn’t repulse her, and she leaned into her friend’s embrace.
“He wants me to see other people. Explore my options. I don’t want options. I just want him. I love him, Ash.” A sob tore up her throat, leaving it feeling raw in its wake. “And he loves me. I know he does. He said as much. So, why do there have to be any other options? Why isn’t that enough?”
“It’s okay.” Ash smoothed her hand over Em’s hair. “He’s a guy. Who knows why they do half the stuff they do? They’re all crazy if you ask me. But he does love you. Anyone can see that. He’s having a rough time, Em. He’s questioning himself. I think he just needs to know that you don’t question him. I think you should do this. Give him what he’s asking for. Show him you trust him.”
Em did trust him. Even if she didn’t understand him, she trusted him with her life. And, more importantly, with her heart.
“It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Everything will work out.”
Please. Please, let that be true, Em begged silently as the tears continued to fall. It would kill her to live without Jay.
***
The burst of icy air was just the wakeup call Em needed after a long night of crying into her pillow. She’d tried to take Ashlyn’s words to heart. To believe everything would work out. That she could do this for Jay. But, in the end, it just hurt. It all hurt. And it took hours for exhaustion to finally put an end to it.
Gathering the mail, she inhaled deeply. She’d always loved the crisp, clean smell of winter. It smelled cleansing, like snow. The way it bathed everything in white and made it look fresh. Unspoiled. Em liked to imagine it cleaning her out from the inside. But when she exhaled, all the grime and filth was still there, hiding beneath her surface. Familiar disappointment unfurled as she headed back inside.
She sifted through several bills and junk mail addressed to Ashlyn, c/o Andrew Mills—her father, Em assumed—and wondered why her friend bothered to work at all, until a small package caught her attention. The metallic green paper glinted in the morning light as she examined the tag.
Em. That was all it said. No mailing address. No return address. No stamp. Whoever delivered this had done so in person. She could only think of one person who would do that.
Why he hadn’t just spoken to her at work didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was reaching out to her. Yesterday was a mistake. A terrible mistake. He’d gone home, thought about it, and this gift was his way of apologizing. It was completely unnecessary, but Em was practically giddy with excitement when Ash came into the living room to find her tearing into the package like a two-year-old on Christmas morning.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. It’s from J—” The package fell open and a small, sleek black cellphone stared back at her. Her heart sank. Jay couldn’t afford something like that.
Some song Em didn’t recognize began pouring from the box and she nearly fumbled it in surprise.
“It’s ringing!” Ashlyn squealed. This was some kind of exciting mystery to her, whereas it had Em’s stomach in a tangle of knots.
“What do I do?” She lifted the phone carefully out of the box to examine it closer as though it were some kind of alien technology beyond her understanding.
“Try answering it, Em.”
“How do I do that?” She hadn’t used cell phones very often and the one she remembered her uncle having had a little green phone to answer and a red one to hang up. This one had no phones. It didn’t have any buttons at all. It was just a screen with a number flashing on it that she didn’t recognize.
“The bar! Slide the bar down!”
“What?”
“The . . . Give it to me! They’re going to hang up.” Ashlyn snatched the phone from her hands and finagled it until they both heard a voice coming through loud and clear. She’d somehow managed to turn on the speaker phone in the process. By accident, Em was sure.
“Hello?” The voice was familiar and Em stifled a groan as a wide grin broke out on Ashlyn’s face.
“Mason?”
“Hey, Em. So you got the phone?”
“Yes, I did. Thank you, Mason, but I can’t accept—”Ashlyn smacked her hard enough in the shoulder to cut her off.
“It’s not a gift, Em. It’s just a loaner until you can get your own.”
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t be stubborn about this, Em. I swear this isn’t me hitting on you, or some kind of ‘move’, I just . . . worry about you. And I don’t want to have to.”
“I’m fine, Mas—”
“What if you have more car trouble, or get lost . . . or hurt? It isn’t just about you, either. You and Ashlyn are alone over there. What if something happens to her and you need to call for help, but you can’t find or don’t know how to use her phone?” He was fighting dirty and Ashlyn was no help at all, nodding away like she was just as concerned about her own safety.
“I don’t know how to use this phone,” Em pointed out.
“I’ll teach you. Or Ashlyn can. Just keep it, Em. Just until you get your own. It’ll make me feel better, okay? Please?”
Em sighed. “Fine, Mason. I’ll keep the phone. For now.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
The screen turned black when he disconnected and Ashlyn handed it back to her. Em flopped back against the couch cushions with a groan. “What am I going to do with him?”
“I think you should date him.” Ashlyn’s grin was pure mischief. “That’s what Jay wants you to do, isn’t it? Date other people?”
“Mason? Have you lost your mind?”
“No. But, Jay will.”
“Ash.” Em shook her head. “I don’t want to play games with him. And I certainly don’t want to use Mason to do it.”
“Then, don’t. Date him because he’s a nice, sweet guy who’s had a crush on you since, like, forever.”
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t date him. I don’t feel the same way about him. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“It’s exactly why you should,” Ashlyn argued. “Admittedly, there aren’t a lot of guys out there like Jay, but at least we know Mason. At least we know he’ll be good to you until Jay gets his shit together.” She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “And if he doesn’t—”
“Don’t even say that. We will work this out.”
“But, if he doesn’t . . . Mason’s a good guy, Em. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jay
The crack in the ceiling was growing wider. The next time it rained, it was definitely going to leak. Jay shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the couch cushions. He’d have to borrow a bucket from work. There really wasn’t a whole hell of a lot else he could do about it.
Sitting there, slumped and exhausted, he watched the steam rise from the cracked mug sitting on the table in front of him. The stupid-ass heart shaped handle was too small for him to squeeze his fingers through, so he had to wait until it cooled enough for him to touch the mug itself before he could drink his coffee. Yet he continued to use it every single morning. All week he’d been sipping lukewarm coffee as some kind of repentance for what he’d done to Em. To himself.
She’d never actually answered him aloud, but he’d asked her to go and she’d gone. He hadn’t seen her since. How much clearer of an answer did he need? Mostly that had been his fault, though. He’d been actively avoiding her as much as possible, swapping shifts and even calling in sick once simply because the thought of being in the same room as her, but not being with her, came very close to making him ill.
&n
bsp; He was weak at the core. If she looked at him with those sad, sweet eyes again and begged him to come back, he wasn’t sure he could resist. Hurting her—even for her own good—had been agony. He’d never hated someone more than himself in that moment, and he wasn’t strong enough to go through it again. So, he hadn’t given her the chance.
Until today. No one could cover for him and calling in on a Friday night was out of the question. Bart would fire him for sure.
Seeing her again was like flipping a switch in his brain, bringing the light rushing back into his world. But, how long can light be absent from your life before any at all will burn you?
Jay tried to keep himself busy. Too busy to notice the way she flitted around the dining room. Too busy to notice the way she was chatting it up with Mason Locklier. Too busy to notice that she didn’t seem to notice him at all. It was a Friday night, it should have been easy. It wasn’t.
Every five seconds he caught himself watching her. She looked beautiful. Definitely one of Ashlyn’s outfits. And way more form fitting than anything Em normally wore. Despite their agreement, neither she nor Ash had been by the house to pack up her things. He knew it was stupid—that it would have to happen, eventually—but he was pathetically grateful for the clothes still hanging in her side of the closet, her pink toothbrush in the bathroom, the pillow that still smelled like her.
