"Go ahead." I wait for her to go out the door, then shut and lock it and we go down to my truck.
"I woke you up, didn't I?" she asks as we're driving back to my place.
"No. I was up. I couldn't sleep."
Because I was thinking about you. Worrying about you. Wondering if you were okay. And wishing you were in my bed.
Of course I don't actually tell her that.
"How was the band?" she asks.
"Good. They played some new songs. Austin was asking about you."
"I'll call him and tell him I'm sorry for missing it. I'll go to the next one."
"They're playing on Wednesday if you want to go."
"Are your brothers going?"
"Probably not, but you and I could go."
"Yeah. Let's do it. It's a date. I mean, not a date-date, but..." She laughs. "Never mind. You know what I mean."
She wants it to be a date, and I would too if the circumstances were different. But they're not. Our lives are headed down different paths and we both need to accept that. We just haven't yet.
I turn the heat on high. "You warming up at all?"
"Not yet." She shivers. "But I'm starting to."
"I cranked up the heat at my apartment so it should feel like a sauna by the time we get there."
"Bryce, you didn't have to do that. I know you like it cool when you sleep."
"But you like it warm."
"I know, but still, it's your place."
"And you're my guest. You've gotta treat your guests well or they won't come back and visit."
"I'll always come back and visit, even if I move away..." Her voice drifts off.
Panic fills me, stabbing at my chest. She's never said that before. She's never actually come out and said that she might be moving. I keep telling myself that's what I want and what's best for her, but when she actually came out and said it just now, it became a thousand times more real. Shit, I'm not ready for this. It's still a few months off, but even then, I don't think I'll be ready. My racing heart and uneasy stomach is making that very clear.
I reach over to hold her hand because I have to touch her. She may be gone soon, and until she is, I have to touch her, even if it's just her hand. But I can't find it.
"I think my coat ate your hand." I feel up and down the sleeve of it.
She laughs and yanks the sleeve up. "It's right here."
I take it and hold it in mine and rest it between us and keep it there until we get back to my apartment. It's another one of those things I shouldn't do, but shit, hearing her say she's leaving has got me forgetting all my rules about keeping my distance and makes me want to be with her, beside her, until the moment I have to tell her goodbye. Because I know that moment's coming. She's had it with her mom. I've pushed her away. She has no reason to stay.
But damn, I don't want her to go.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jen
I did not expect to be spending yet another night at Bryce's apartment. In his bed. With him beside me. But here we are, just like the other night, only this time we're not drunk. I'm fully aware that his large, muscular, tattooed body is just inches away from mine, covered only by a thin pair of workout shorts. He only has one pair of pajama pants and he put them in the laundry, so tonight he had to wear shorts.
I'm wearing the long sleeve thermal he had on when he picked me up. It looked soft and cozy and was already warm from his body heat so I asked if I could wear it. But now his manly scent is all over me, arousing me, making me want to do things I shouldn't.
"You warm yet?" Bryce asks.
"Not quite. I still have a chill." It's not really true. I feel fine, but I want an invitation to snuggle up to him, and I know I won't get it unless I say that I'm cold.
"Come on." He puts his arm up and I nestle against his side, my head on his shoulder, my arm draped over his chest.
This is what I want someday. To fall asleep next to the guy I love, tucked safely in his arms, feeling happy and content. I already have the first part. Bryce is the guy I love and I'll soon be falling asleep in his arms. But I'm not happy. Or content. Because I know this is only temporary.
As perfect as this feels right now, Bryce doesn't want this, and so I have to move on. And after the disaster with my mom tonight, I'm really thinking I need to leave Chicago. Get away from my mom and get a fresh start somewhere else. But what if I leave and something happens to her? What if some guy hits her again and next time it's worse?
"Bryce," I whisper. "Are you still awake?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I'm worried about my mom. What if she goes out with that guy again? That guy who hit her?"
"She won't."
"But what if she does? I don't want her getting hurt again. When I saw that bruise, I was so scared for her. I'm still scared."
He lets out a heavy sigh, which I'm guessing means he doesn't want to talk about it. Not now. It's late, and he's tired, and he wants to go to sleep.
"Sorry. We can talk about it later. Goodnight."
"Jen."
"Yeah?" I look up at him.
He sighs again. "I have to tell you something."
"Go ahead."
"That bruise on your mom's face. It wasn't from some guy. She did it herself."
"What?" I sit up. "What are you talking about?"
"She tripped on a rug at her house and her face hit the wall. That's how she got the bruise."
"How do you know this?"
"She told me. When I dropped her off."
"Why would she tell you that?"
"She didn't mean to. I went in the house and almost tripped on the rug and that's when she said she'd done the same thing, except that she actually tripped and ran into the wall. When I confronted her about it, she admitted that's how she got the bruise. And she wasn't drunk earlier. She was faking it."
"But...but why? Why would she do that?"
"Don't tell her I told you this, okay? She made me promise not to tell you."
"Yeah, okay. So what did she tell you? Why did she do it?"
"She wants you to stay. She wants you to think she's too out of control to be left alone. She thinks if she acts like this, you won't take a job somewhere else."
"I didn't know she was that upset about me leaving. She never acts like she even cares about me."
"Jen, I think it's more about...never mind."
I swallow past the lump in my throat that formed as soon as I realized what he was about to say. My mom wouldn't miss me if I left. She'd miss my money, and all that I do for her; running her errands, buying her groceries, picking her up from the bar when she's had too much to drink.
"So it was all an act," I say, sinking back down on the bed next to Bryce. "She almost got me fired."
"I'm sorry, Jen." His arm is around me and he holds me a little tighter.
"I'm just glad you told me." A tear slips down my cheek. "I was so worried some guy had hurt her."
But it was all a lie. A big fat lie meant to get my sympathy, and get me to stay in Chicago. Well, forget it. She's just driving me away. I'm now more determined than ever to leave.
"Goodnight," I whisper to Bryce.
"Night." I feel him kiss my head, and that lump in my throat gets even bigger. But this time it's because I know I'll soon have to say goodbye to Bryce. And I don't want to. I'm not ready to, and I really don't want to.
In the morning, he's gone. He had to be at the job site early to make sure he finishes the kitchen remodel today. But he left me a note by my phone that reads, If you're reading this and it's before 10, go back to bed. You need to sleep. If it's after 10, and you feel like getting up, go take a long hot shower. Then go eat the breakfast I prepared. And yes, I know I'm bossing you around, but get over it. It's for your own good.
I laugh, because he knew if he were here, saying this in person, I'd tell him to stop bossing me around. It's one of our Jen and Bryce things. Growing up, he was always trying to boss me around and I'd yell at him for it. But he
meant well. His bossiness was because he was trying to make me do something I needed to do, but wouldn't, like stay home from school when I was sick, or eat dinner when I felt like skipping it. He's been looking out for me for as long as I can remember. That's how I ended up becoming part of his family. He practically begged his parents to take care of me. I didn't know this until I was in high school, when his mom told me the story.
She said one day Bryce came running into the kitchen, crying, saying I was going to get hurt. We were only six at the time and had only known each other a few weeks. Earlier that day, he'd been at my house. We had a play date after school and my mom was there with her boyfriend. I never liked the guy. He always looked at me weird and smiled at me. Now I know that's because he messes around with kids. He's currently in prison serving time for child molestation. But at the time, I had no idea he was a bad man. But Bryce did.
We were playing a game on the floor in the living room and my mom and her boyfriend were on the couch watching TV. Bryce kept looking at the guy, and when it was time for us to take Bryce home, he begged me to come with him and stay at his house. I didn't, and that's when he went and told his mom I was going to get hurt. He told her that guy was bad, so she called my mom and told her what Bryce had said. After that, the guy was gone. My mom broke up with him and we never saw him again, until we saw him years later on TV, getting arrested for child molestation and possession of child pornography.
After Bryce's mom told me this story, I asked Bryce how he knew the guy was bad. He said it was just a feeling he had. He didn't like the way the guy was looking at me. Bryce was just a little kid, and yet he was already trying to protect me and look out for me. And he's been doing that ever since.
As for my mom, dumping that guy is the only thing she's ever done to protect me, at least the only thing I remember. But other than that, she neglected me, leaving me alone to fend for myself. She'd stay out all night, and sometimes be gone for days, always with some guy. So Barb and Mitch, Bryce's parents, acted as my surrogate parents, making sure I was fed and got to school and had a place to stay if my mom didn't come home at night. Thank God they did that or my life would've been totally different. I probably would've ended up like my mom, a high school dropout who cons people to get what she wants.
I'm not going to think about her. Not now. Right now, I want to be happy, and Bryce's note makes me happy so I read it again. Then I check the time. It's only nine, so according to Bryce I'm supposed to go back to sleep, but I'm wide awake and curious what he made me for breakfast.
I go to the kitchen and laugh when I see what he left out. There are two frosted Pop Tarts on a plate, a giant bowl filled with Fruit Loops, a pile of candy, and a bottle of Mountain Dew. It's our fantasy breakfast we dreamed up when we were kids. We used to say we couldn't wait to be adults, because being an adult meant eating whatever you want, and we both agreed that this would be our breakfast every day.
I run back to the bedroom and get my phone and call Bryce.
"What are you doing up?" he asks. "Didn't you read my note?"
"Yeah, but I've slept long enough, and I wanted to see what you made me for breakfast."
He laughs. "What do you think?"
"It's awesome. We were totally right when we were kids. This is the best breakfast ever."
"There's no way you ate all that."
"Not yet, but I will."
"Go ahead and try. You'll be in a sugar coma by the time I get back."
"When are you coming back?"
"I'll stop by there at lunch and take you to your apartment to get your things."
So he's letting me stay here? At his apartment? For the entire week? That normally wouldn't surprise me, but given that we went way past the friendship line the other night, I assumed he'd want to keep his distance from me.
"You need to stay there and work," I tell him. "I'll see if Callie can take me over there and then I'll have her take me to my mom's."
He's quiet and then, "Yeah. Okay."
So I was right. He doesn't want me staying here. We're just friends, and he's determined to keep it that way.
"Then I guess I'll—"
"Hold on," he says. I hear mumbling in the background. "Jen, my dad's going to pick you up. He's over here checking on the project but he's leaving soon. Will you be ready?"
"Yeah. I'll be ready. Tell him thanks."
"He should be there in about a half hour. Talk to you later."
"Yeah, bye."
I set the phone down and collapse on the bed. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I keep hoping for anything more than a friendship with Bryce? The other night at the bar was nothing more than two friends who got drunk and took things too far. I need to stop hoping for a future with Bryce when it's clear we'll never have one.
A half hour later, I'm showered and dressed and waiting for Mitch to pick me up. There's nothing to watch on TV so I shut it off and check out the magazines Bryce has sitting on the bottom shelf of his coffee table. They're all car magazines. Bryce likes working on cars. He says it's a hobby but he could do it as a job if he wanted to. He's really good at it. He can take apart a car and put it back together. He's even rebuilt an engine. His dad taught him how to do some of that stuff, but mostly Bryce taught himself.
Bryce thinks he's not smart, but he really is, just not in the traditional way. He never did well in school, but it's not because he didn't try. He just had a hard time understanding the material. I tried to help him, but it's like his brain just wasn't wired for things like algebra or English. He learned best by actually doing things, not just reading about them. Sitting in a classroom all day used to drive him crazy. He wanted to be out building something, or fixing something, or taking something apart so he could put it back together. The fact that he can just figure out how to do that stuff without any instruction is amazing to me. He's more than smart. He's brilliant. He just doesn't see it that way.
I flip through the car magazines but they're really boring so I put them back where he had them. Next to the magazines there's a book about running a business. I pick it up and flip through it. It's a thick book with lots of charts and graphs, not something Bryce would typically read. In fact, he hates books like this. But there's a scrap of paper wedged in the start of chapter two so he must've been reading it.
Bryce and his brothers will be taking over Wheeler Construction someday, but I didn't think Bryce wanted to be involved in the business side. That seems like something Nash or Jake would do. Bryce prefers the hands-on construction work, not the behind-the-scenes office work. But maybe he's trying to prove to his family that he could do it. That he's smart enough. But we all know he is. He's got nothing to prove. If Bryce wants to do something, he'll find a way. He'll figure it out. None of us think he's not smart enough. Except for him.
There's a few short knocks on the door. "Jen? It's Mitch."
I set the book down and go open the door. "Thanks for coming."
Mitch comes in and gives me a hug. "How've you been? I haven't heard from you for a while."
It's only been a couple weeks, but Mitch is like a dad to me and worries if I don't check in with him on a regular basis. But I see and talk to Bryce all the time and I know Bryce tells his dad how I'm doing.
"Sorry I haven't called," I say. "I had midterms last week so I spent the week hidden away in the library."
"How'd the midterms go?"
My mom would never ask me that. She doesn't care. But Mitch does. He did when I was a kid too. He and his wife would make sure I studied and did my homework. They even paid my application fees for college because my mom refused to spend the money. She said if the college wants me, I shouldn't have to pay to apply. I told her that's not how it works, but she didn't get it. So Mitch paid for the fees and told me to apply to as many colleges as I wanted to. He's always been that way with me. Kind. Generous. Supportive. His wife was the same way. I was devastated when she died.
"I think I did okay," I say. "But after all that
studying, my brain is completely fried. It'll be good to have a week off."
"Doing anything fun?"
"Not really." I get my coat from the closet. "I have to write a paper, but other than that, I was planning to relax and catch up on sleep. But now I don't have an apartment."
"So the heat's out?"
"Yeah, for the whole building. Can you believe that? And it happens on spring break, when I'm home all week."
"Well, it's plenty warm in here," he says, motioning to the apartment. "What's Bryce got it set at? Eighty degrees? It's like summer in here."
I laugh. "Yeah, I know. I love it. Bryce cranked up the heat for me. I should turn it down." I go over to the thermostat.
"You might as well leave it. We'll be back soon." He walks to the door.
"Oh, um, I'm not staying here."
"You're not?" He opens the door for me.
"No. I'm staying with my mom."
He gives me that dad look that is usually followed by a lecture, although now that I'm older, I get fewer lectures, but he still gives me the look, which means he disapproves.
"You sure you want to stay there?" he asks, cocking his brow.
"It's just for a few days." I go past him out the door, then lock it behind us.
"Yes, but a few days with your mother is—"
"Yeah, I know, but I don't have anywhere else to go." I walk down the hall to the elevator and push the button.
"I'd let you stay at the house but I have Barb's sister staying there with her girls. They're here for spring break."
I nod. "Yeah, Bryce told me. It's fine. Don't worry about it."
The elevator opens and we ride down to the main floor, then go out to the parking lot to Mitch's SUV. It's the same as Jake's, with the company name and logo printed along the side.
As we're driving to my apartment, Mitch says, "So why aren't you staying with Bryce?"
I knew this question was coming and I don't know how to answer so I just make something up.
"I don't want to crowd him. It's not that big of an apartment."
"It's plenty big for two people. Just stay there. I don't want you going to your mother's house." He pauses. "Bryce said she showed up drunk at the restaurant."
Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel Page 13