by Jamie Canosa
She wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t a chance in hell she could have reached the top box. Jay could barely reach it even after he’d pressed onto his toes and stretched as far as his body would go. He’d just closed his fingers around the bottom edges when a sharp gasp and a sudden flash of pain in his side told him he might have stretched too far.
“Jay!” He grunted, landing back on his heels with the box of straws in tow. Ashlyn’s eyes, which were glued to his side where his shirt now once again covered the purple bruise spanning half his waist and up to his ribs, slowly crept up to meet his. “What is that?”
“Nothing.” He shoved the box at her, but she refused to take it.
“Jay, that is not nothing. What the hell happened?”
“I bumped into something. Don’t worry about it. And, Ash . . .” A new concern wormed its way under his skin. “Don’t tell Em. Please? She’ll only get upset.”
Ashlyn pulled her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed at it until he was afraid she’d break the skin. He was putting her in a difficult position, he could appreciate that, but he knew that Em would demand an explanation, and there were some things he couldn’t tell her. Some things she was better off not knowing.
Releasing her abused lip on a sigh, Ash nodded.
“Okay. But, Jay?” She fiddled with her fingers for a moment. They’d never been particularly close, always having Em as a sort of buffer between them. Not that he didn’t like her, he’d just never been very good around people in general. She must have felt the awkward as heavily as he did, but she plowed ahead, anyway. “I’m Em’s friend, but I believe in you guys. I’m rooting for you both. I know there’s shit about you that I don’t know, and I’m not asking you to tell me, but just so you know . . . if you ever want to talk . . . I’m your friend, too.”
Jay blinked down at the short girl with pale blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, and an uncomfortable smile. His friend? He couldn’t remember ever having a friend before. Literally, ever. Wasn’t even sure he understood the concept. He had Em, but no matter what they called themselves, she’d always be more than a friend. With her there were . . . He hesitated to call them ‘complications’, but that’s what they were. Things between them were a complicated mess.
He had some people out on the street that he trusted more than others, but he never would have been foolish enough to go as far as to call them friends. For the right price, anyone would stab you in the back out there. Skunk had proved that in the worst way possible.
There was Sam and Greg. They’d both helped him out substantially with no strings attached. Something he was still having trouble grasping, but they were both much older than him. It had made him feel like a child to need their help. But, to look at Ashlyn—someone his own age, stuck in the same kind of crap-ass job—and label her an honest-to-God ‘friend’ was something entirely new. And, if he was frank, a whole lot terrifying.
Jay had no idea how long he’d been standing there gaping at her like a creeper before she finally shot him a ‘your turn’ look. Christ, he needed to get a grip. “I know.”
Ash graced him with a genuine smile and he realized just how rare those really were for her.
“Ash?”
She’d started for the door, but paused with her hand on it to glance back over her shoulder. “Huh?”
“Thanks.” It didn’t seem adequate for what she’d just given him, what she’d been giving to both of them all along, but it was all he had.
A quick nod and she was gone, brushing through the swinging doors and out of sight. Jay shook himself. He’d have to take a deeper look at those fucked up issues some other time, he had work to do.
***
When Em was around, Jay could sense it on his skin like a static electric charge in the air, the kind you can feel right before a lightning storm. The kind he felt as he dug beneath the bar for an extra dish cloth. She wasn’t on the schedule, but he knew she was there the moment she stepped through the door.
As soon as their eyes met, he also knew something was wrong. Very wrong. And when she flew straight toward him, his fears were confirmed. Meeting her at the vacant end of the bar, he was startled when she slammed her hand down on the polished wooden surface.
“What is that?”
Em slid a plain white envelope across the bar. It was labeled only with Em followed by Ashlyn’s address. There was no return address, but he knew with a sickening certainty from the way she was reacting to whatever was inside, exactly who had sent it.
He glanced up to find her watching him. Waiting to gauge his reaction. He couldn’t hide from her any easier than she could from him. “Open it.”
He did, and slid out the news article printed on generic white computer paper. Jay’s stomach rolled at the sight of Em’s uncle. The image of that bastard in cuffs should have brought a sense of satisfaction, but all it caused him was dread because he knew why his father had sent her this.
Not just to prove to him that he could find her, or that he knew more about her than he should. It was the headline that went along with the photo that was meant to do the damage.
47-year-old Man Accused of Sexual Assault Involving His 12-year-old Neighbor.
And from the blatant pain in Em’s eyes, he knew the son of a bitch had hit his mark with precision.
“Em.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, obviously trying to maintain her composure in public.
“Hold on, baby.” Jay took her small fisted hand in his and squeezed, scanning the restaurant until he locked eyes with Mindy. “Hey, Mindy, can you cover for me for a minute?”
Without waiting for an answer he ducked under the bar, taking his coat with him, and dropped it over Em’s huddled shoulders. Why the hell wasn’t she wearing one? She was still in her pajamas, for chrissakes, the bottoms of her pants soaked through like she’d walked there. And with Ashlyn busy covering the front section all morning, she must have.
Wrapping an arm around her back, Jay ushered her out the door as Mindy called something about having her own tables to cover. Jay didn’t care. She’d figure it out. He had more important things to take care of.
Em didn’t hesitate to climb in when he opened the passenger side door to his truck. When he slid in beside her, he found her staring distantly out the front windshield. To anyone else she would look calm and composed, almost serene. But he knew better. She was hanging by a thread.
“Em—”
“I looked it up.” Jay’s heart squeezed painfully. The more she knew, the more she’d torture herself. “Her name’s Tori. I sort of remember her playing outside when she was little. She said he . . . he . . .”
“Don’t, baby. Don’t let this—”
“It’s all my fault.”
And there it was. The pain, the guilt, the self-loathing. She’d worn them like a shield when he first met her. Walls she could hide behind and keep everyone else out. Walls he’d worked so damn hard to break down. They were all shooting back up again.
“No. Em, this is not your fault. He’s a sick, twisted bastard. He did this.”
“Because I left.”
“No.”
“I left knowing what he was. What did I think? He would just stop? I-I didn’t even warn anyone.” A sob broke free as she buried her face in her hands.
“Shh.” Jay slid across the vinyl bench and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, for which he was undeniably grateful. “You didn’t cause this. You didn’t cause any of this, Em. You did what you had to do. You escaped. You survived. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“But I knew she lived next door. I didn’t even—”
“No. I didn’t think of it, either. My first, last, and only thought was and always will be you, Em.”
“I should have said something.” Her body shook in his arms as she clutched his shirt, desperately pulling him closer like she needed him to hold her together. “I should have told somebody. If I had, this never would have happened to her. If I hadn’t been such
a coward.”
That word struck him hard. He hated it. Hated that she believed it. Dammit all to hell. He was working his ass off, doing his best, and still he couldn’t protect her from this pain. The anguish tearing her apart, bringing back all of that destructive crap she’d been hand fed and believed about herself for so long.
Cupping Em’s face, Jay gently lifted it until she looked at him. He got lost staring into her tear rimmed eyes, wishing he could absorb all of the anger and fear and hurt churning in them. “You are strong. And brave. And beautiful. You are not, nor have you ever been, a coward. The son of a bitch who did this to you, to her, is the coward. And the asshole who left it in your mailbox is the coward. Not you. Never you.”
Em sniffled back the last of her tears as she gazed up at him. “You know, don’t you? Who left this?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Who was it? What’s going on, Jay?”
“Don’t worry about it, baby. I will take care of this. If anything else shows up at the house for you, anyone . . . Call me. Right away. Okay?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s okay.”
“I’m scared, Jay.” The cracked plastic seat creaked as she scooted closer until their bodies were pressed together.
“Don’t be. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Just promise me you’ll call.”
Defiance burned in her eyes with the desire to argue, to demand answers, but grief and exhaustion overwhelmed it and she shut them down, burying her face in his chest once again. “I promise.”
Jay sat there holding her for he didn’t know how long. Screw Bart, and Mindy, and work. He was right where he needed to be. He was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep, when she stirred.
“I’m sorry.” Em brushed her hair from her face, rubbing at her tear stained cheeks. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t be. Never be sorry for coming to me when you need me, Em. I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”
“I know.” She nodded, but wouldn’t meet his gaze and Jay had to wonder if she truly believed that. “You should get back to work before you get fired.”
She was probably right, though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Are you okay?” Em looked at him out of the corner of her eye and Jay frowned. “No. You’re not.”
“No.” She didn’t even bother trying to lie about it.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing.” The cold hard truth stung like a slap to the face. “There’s nothing to do. I’ll get over it.”
That was a lie. She’d never get over this. Jay knew that deep down a part of her would carry the guilt forever. But there was something he could do and, God help him, he would do it. No matter what it took.
***
After dropping Em off at Ashlyn’s, Jay stood in the bathroom at Bart’s, turning the paper over and over in his hands. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself. He read it. There wasn’t much. A few details about her uncle—no mention of Em—some statistics on pedophiles, and a short recounting of the report filed by the victim. It was Tori’s story, but as Jay read it all he could see was Em suffering the same atrocities. It made him sick. And sad. And pissed him the hell off. Balling up the sheet of paper, he hurled it into the trashcan, wishing there was a fireplace, so he could watch it burn.
He plowed through the remainder of his shift with a single minded focus. The minute he got home, he headed straight for the phone. Jay gritted his teeth, staring down at the deceptively innocent looking thing, and then forced himself to input the familiar number.
“Hello?”
“Leave her alone.”
“Julian. How nice to hear from you. I assume Em received my . . . gift?”
“Leave Em alone, you bastard!”
“Or what?”
“Go near her again and I swear—”
“What, Julian? What will you do about it?”
Rip him apart. Beat him until he was as bruised and broken on the outside as he’d made her on the inside. Tear his friggin’ head off. Break every bone in his goddamn body. End him. There was a lengthy pause where Jay strained to put the thoughts racing through his head into words, but found himself too weak to do it.
“Did you know about her parents? They died in horrible accident. There are some pretty graphic pictures if you know where to—”
“Please.” The pain he felt pouring off of her small body as it shook in his arms flowed through him, bringing him to his knees. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll get the money. Just . . . please leave her alone.”
“Begging, Julian? I’ve always know you were weak, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you beg before. It’s pathetic. Have my next payment ready by next week. And I better be more impressed than last time.”
Jay sat crumpled on the kitchen tiles, leaning against the cabinet for support as the line went dead. Em may very well be his weakness—he sure as hell felt weak now—but she was also his strength. His hope. She’d be his strength now, too, and he would find a way to do this. For her.
Chapter Twenty-two
Em
Spaz attack was just about the only accurate description of Ashlyn’s near hysteric response to the concert idea when Em told her the name of the band Mason had mentioned. She’d called them both out of work for the entire weekend in order to ‘get ready’. Why getting ready would take two days, Em was almost afraid to find out, but she was thankful for the distraction.
Ever since that letter had arrived, Em had done everything possible to stay out of her own head. To stop thinking about Tori and what she must have gone through. Must still be going through. Nothing worked.
There were no pictures of her in any of the articles Em had obsessed over since she was a minor. So, like her name, Em could only draw it from memory. She didn’t have many of the girl next door. They’d been five years apart in age and never close. In fact, Em couldn’t recall ever even speaking to her. But there was one that stood out of a little blonde girl—maybe eight years old—swinging on her swings in the back yard. It was about a year after her uncle had started abusing her and she remembered watching Tori and trying to recall what it felt like to be that free. But Tori wasn’t free anymore. She was a prisoner to his perverted acts, same as Em now. And it was all her fault.
Nights spent lying awake in Ashlyn’s guestroom, Em wondered if her envy had somehow caused this. If she’d secretly wished this on that poor girl. But it wasn’t true. She wouldn’t wish this on her worst enemy. She’d simply failed to stop it from happening, which didn’t make it any less her fault. Her fault. Her fault . . .
Not seeing Jay for the whole weekend was actually an unexpected bonus. Since her impromptu meltdown in his truck, things had gotten even tenser between them. They were both toying with this invisible ‘friendship’ line, but it didn’t seem either of them really knew where exactly it was. What was acceptable and what wasn’t. There was a lot of murky, gray area lying between them that they both hesitated to set foot in.
It seemed the only time she talked to him anymore was when she was in tears, and Em felt guilty about that, too. She couldn’t help herself, though. He was Jay. He was the only person she could truly be honest with emotionally. Not always struggling to maintain those walls she used to hide from everyone else. Even Ashlyn couldn’t break through the barriers to those raw emotions that Jay’s presence alone allowed her to feel safe enough to release. She needed that. The awkwardness and careful avoidance it led to, however, was slowly driving her mad.
Em had even gone so far as to try and find a few shifts she could trade where she could work alone, afraid Jay might distract her right into unemployment, but found no luck. His name covered almost every available shift on the schedule. Whether it was bartending, waiting, or busing, he was scheduled to work all but one day over the next two straight weeks. And most of them were double—sometimes even triple—shifts. What the hell was
he trying to do?
“Everyone copes in their own way.” That was Ash’s grand explanation. “Jay has work . . . and we are going to rock our faces off!”
It was that distraction alone, and Ash’s contagious excitement, that got Em through the week without giving in to the desire to confront Jay about his apparent desire to work himself to death.
Em sat on the couch listening to Ash shout something about the need to go shopping from inside her closet and groaned. She hated the mall pretty much any day of the week, but Saturday’s were particularly awful. No parking, people everywhere, lines out the door. Why would anyone want to go through all of that?
“Come on. Let’s go.” Ash tugged her off the couch on her way by and tossed Em her coat from the entryway closet.
She owed Ashlyn big time for everything she’d done. Em sighed and tugged on the warm, wool lined coat Jay had gotten her, figuring that tagging along for a shopping trip was the least she could do.
As expected, parking took roughly ten and a half years, and when they finally found a spot she had to squeeze out thanks to the jackass parked halfway over the line. As they strolled the concourse, Em was quickly reminded why she avoided crowded areas as a rule. Each bump, each accidental brush sent her pulse racing. Christ, she couldn’t even window shop without fear of stroking out.
