by Jamie Canosa
Jay lay awake for hours, listening helplessly to the quiet sounds of discomfort he was certain Em was unaware that she was making, feeling her body tremble in his arms. This was it. This was the best he could do for her. Pathetic.
A low pitched whine slipped from Em’s lips. Her eyelids fluttered, and he couldn’t be sure if it was the fever or another nightmare that was causing her distress. Powerless.
“Shh. Baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Pressing a kiss to her sweaty brow, Jay closed his eyes and held her tighter. All he had to offer her was himself and it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. He’d never felt so worthless.
“You’re going to be okay, Em. Everything’s going to be okay. Shh. Just rest, baby.” He stroked her hair and trailed his fingers over her heated skin.
They didn’t have a thermometer, but he trusted himself to know if things got dangerous. That required a constant vigil, though. It was a long night with little rest for either of them. Em shivered and sweated for hours. Jay held her close, waking her every so often to get her to drink more water. Finally, around four in the morning, the fever broke and they both drifted into an exhausted unconsciousness.
The alarm clock was unsympathetic to their plight, however, wailing away at seven on the dot. Jay was struck with the overwhelming urge to send it flying out the window, but they couldn’t afford to replace it.
“Mmmm.” Em propped herself up on an elbow and blinked down at him sleepily, but all Jay could see were the thick dark circles under her eyes. “Mind if I take the first shower? I’m all sticky and gross.”
“I don’t mind. But then you’re getting back in bed.”
“I can’t. I have to be at work by—”
“You’re sick, Em. You’re not working today.”
“I have to. We need—”
“You to get better. That’s what we need.”
“I am better. Just tired.”
“Besides,” Jay continued as though she hadn’t spoken, “Bart won’t appreciate it if you go around infecting all of his customers.”
“It’s a cold, Jay. Not the plague.” He knew she was annoyed at him, but her glare was just plain cute.
“Em,” he wasn’t going to lose this argument and she damn well knew it, “go get in the shower. I’ll call Bart and let him know you won’t be making it in today.”
She continued to glare, but exhaustion won out and she couldn’t maintain it, dropping back onto her pillow. “Fine.”
Jay placed a call to Bart and agreed to cover her shift. He would have preferred to stay home and take care of her, but it was last minute notice and they’d need the money to pay for the extra heat they’d used. Regretfully, he turned the thermostat back down before taking his turn in the shower.
When he got out the house was already back to its normal state of frigid. Jay wrapped a towel around his waist and rushed into the bedroom to find some warm clothes. Em was already curled back up under the blankets. Times like that, she just looked so damn . . . small. It made him desperate to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close and safe forever. Instead, he pulled on a pair of faded jeans and took a seat beside her, running his fingers through her damp hair.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Mmhmm.”
It was his mission to make her believe that statement. They’d get there. Someday.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a prisoner.”
Jay chuckled. “You’re in a mood this morning.”
“No sleep and pushy boyfriends put me in a mood.”
“Then I suggest you get some rest because I want my happy girl back when I get home tonight.”
“You’re still being pushy,” Em grumbled.
He shrugged and leaned over for a kiss. “You like it.”
Em twisted her head at the last possible second and all he caught was her cheek. “Careful. I wouldn’t want to infect you.”
Jay scowled down at her. “When it comes to you, I’m already a goner.”
Using both of his hands to capture her face, he pressed his lips firm and steady to hers. She didn’t fight him, her mouth opening in invitation, and he plunged inside. Christ, she tasted so damn sweet.
He was going to be late for work.
***
The mood booster winning his argument with Em had brought on was rapidly diminishing as he parked his truck in the lot and stared up at the dilapidated building in front of him. Bart’s. What a high-class joint. With a sigh, Jay trudged through the puddles of slush just to be slammed with the potent aroma of greasy food and body odor inside the front door. It must have been close to ninety-degrees in there. The heater was busted . . . again. At least this time it was stuck on.
Tugging off his hat, Jay ran a quick hand through his hair. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. And another. Not thirty seconds after he crossed the threshold, Sahara came strutting out of the back room.
“Jay? What are you doing here so early?”
“Em’s sick. I’m covering her shift.”
“You’re waiting tables?”
“It was last minute notice. Bart didn’t have anyone else.” He couldn’t understand her obvious amusement. Most of his time was spent behind the bar, but it wasn’t his first time taking on a wait shift.
“This should be fun.”
Jay was certain it would be anything but, though he didn’t bother telling her that. She wouldn’t have heard him anyway. The girl had a way of only hearing what she wanted to.
Unfortunately he was right. Six hours later, fun would not be the word Jay chose to describe his day. And it was only half over. In thirty minutes, he had to start his own shift bartending.
“Jay!” He sidestepped an incoming Sahara, who’d found any and every reason to brush up against him throughout their shift. “You look dead on your feet. I’m taking my lunch and I talked Bart into letting you take one, too. Come eat with me.”
He wasn’t sure if that was true, but he hadn’t seen Bart take one step outside his office all day and she was right about one thing . . . he was ready to drop. Sahara lit up like a freaking super nova when he agreed and he immediately regretted his sleep deprived decision making skills. It was too late to take it back, though. She had him seated in a corner booth—trapped between her sweaty, scantily clad body and the wall—with a plate of meatloaf in front of him before he could blink.
“Whew. It’s hot in here today, huh?”
Jay nodded as he chewed his meal and Sahara dramatically fanned herself with a drink menu.
“You can talk to me, you know. I don’t bite.”
“Sorry.” Jay swallowed and forced himself to face her. “Just in a bit of a rush.”
“You’re always rushing. You work too hard. We have half an hour, so relax a little.”
She was right about that, too. He could use a chance to de-stress a bit. Leaning back against the wall, he took another bite and chewed slower, savoring the taste of warm meat and gravy.
“That’s better.” Sahara grinned and he found himself smiling back at her. “Sorry to hear Em’s not feeling well. I hope she’s better soon.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell her you said so.”
Sahara shrugged.
“What?”
“I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Em? That’s not true. Em doesn’t dislike anyone.”
“If you say so.” Sahara still failed to look convinced. “It’s okay, though. Most people don’t like me much. Guess I’m just too much to handle.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“I know I come on kind of . . . strong, sometimes. But I just really want you to like me.”
“I do like you, Sahara.” Sometimes. “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard.”
She seemed to think about it and then shrugged again. “Did you see that guy seated in my section earlier? The big one? Ohmigod . . . he was sweating so bad I could smell him in the kitchen.” She scrunched her face up in a look
that made Jay laugh. He had noticed the guy she was talking about and it hadn’t been a pretty sight. “I was afraid he was going to have a heat stroke or something.”
Sahara went on about her morning, never running out of things to say. Jay laughed and ate, occasionally joining in with a story of his own. The time passed quickly, and next thing he knew forty-five minutes had gone by and Bart was shooting him nasty looks.
“Crap, I’m late.” Jay had to wait for Sahara to exit the booth before he could slide out after her. “Thanks for lunch, but I’d better get behind the bar before Bart fires me.”
“I had fun.”
“Me, too.” Strangely enough, Jay meant it.
“We’ll have to do it again, sometime.”
“Sure.” Jay dropped his plate in a busboy’s bin and ducked behind the already crowded bar.
***
He was so wiped by the end of the night that he nearly crashed into an oncoming truck and came within an inch of sideswiping a parked car on his way home. But it was all worth it when he arrived to find Em curled up in her usual spot on the couch. Only this time, she was still awake.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. How was your day?”
“Long. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“I wasn’t. I was watching . . . a movie.”
Mmhmm. “What movie?”
“Some superhero movie. Um . . . Captain something?”
Now he knew she was lying.
“You hate those movies. You were waiting up for me.” It was meant to be a reprimand, but he secretly loved that she was there waiting for him at the end of a long day of work, and he knew it showed.
“Fine. I was waiting up for you. Is it such a bad thing that I miss you?”
“No. I missed you, too.” Plopping down on the couch, he wrapped an arm around Em and tucked her close to his side, grateful that her skin felt cool to the touch.
Em snuggled closer and her stomach growled.
“You’re hungry.”
“I’m fine.” She was a terrible liar. One of the things he loved about her.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
She didn’t answer. She only did that when she knew he wouldn’t like her answer. He usually loved that about her, too, but now it just made him tense.
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
She shrugged.
“Em?”
“We were out of cereal.”
“Lunch?”
She shrugged again. “And bread.”
Dammit. “So, you haven’t eaten anything all day?”
“I’m really not hungry, Jay.”
Her belly growled again in protest and Jay frowned. “You’re stomach seems to disagree. Come on, let’s go find it something to eat.”
“I don’t need—”
“Did that sound like a question?” He hauled her to her feet and propelled her toward the kitchen.
She took a seat on one of the rickety chairs, looking resigned as he ripped apart the cabinets. No wonder she didn’t want him looking in them. There wasn’t a damn thing in there.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were out of food?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. We don’t get paid for two more days.”
“I could have—”
“No, Jay. There’s nothing either of us could have done about it. It’s fine. We aren’t completely out. There’re a couple of cans of soup under the sink. And, we both work tomorrow, so we can grab something there.”
As long as they weren’t greedy about it, Bart didn’t mind the staff snacking on leftovers or returned meals in the kitchen.
“Fine. At least let me make you some soup. You need to eat, Em.”
“So do you, Jay.”
“I ate.” Dammit all to hell. Em had been sitting around hungry all day while he’d been eating with Sahara. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.
Chapter Eight
Em
Morning rolled around lazily. They were finally back to working their normal shifts, closing together, so there was no rush to get moving. Em lounged in bed, while Jay made it his mission to find something for them to eat for breakfast.
Twenty minutes later, she was beginning to wonder if he’d called in a search party. Or crawled into a bare cabinet and gotten lost.
“Jay?” Em finished buttoning her pants as she made her way toward the kitchen. “Where did you—?”
The doorbell cut her off just as she stepped into the living room. Switching directions, she headed across the cold wood floor toward the front door. They rarely had visitors, so she pulled it open with a healthy dose of caution.
“Good morning.” A tall man with broad shoulders and close cropped dark hair stood on the porch.
“Morning.”
He grinned. “How are you doing . . .?”
“Em,” she supplied automatically. “And I’m fine, thanks. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand and Em’s anxiety shot up, but she choked it back. She couldn’t spend forever afraid to touch people. After all, he was probably some neighbor that had finally gotten around to welcoming them to the neighborhood, or something. How would it look if she refused to even shake his hand?
Stifling the cringe that threatened to surface, she forced herself to relax and allow him to encase her small hand in his much larger one. His grip was hard and when she pulled back, he failed to release her, doubling Em’s heart rate.
“Where’s Julian?” It took her a moment to register who he was looking for, having only heard Jay’s real name once before.
“Why are you looking for him?”
“Who is it, babe?” Jay came up behind her and Em turned just in time to see him freeze in his tracks. For a seemingly endless moment, Jay just stared at the man at the door, but his eyes were so cloudy she doubted he was really seeing him at all.
“Jay?” Her voice snapped him back from wherever he’d gone and he stepped forward, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and hauling her backward into his chest. His heart was beating so hard she could feel it pounding against her spine.
“What are you doing here?” Jay’s voice was deceptively low, but there was no mistaking the tremor of fear behind it.
“I want the money.”
Money? What money? Em’s mind scrambled to play catch up. They didn’t have any money. They’d spent his grandparent’s money on the house and . . . His grandparent’s money. The money Jay’s father had been using until he inherited it when he turned eighteen.
Oh, crap.
Jay’s arm was like a steel band around her middle, but it melted away under her gentle prying. Stepping away from him, Em gripped the door so hard her fingers ached. She really wanted to grip something else, like that bastard’s throat.
“You need to leave. Now. And if you ever come near us again, I’ll call the police.” She slammed the door with a force that surprised even her and made every frame in the house rattle.
When she turned around, Jay was standing in the exact spot she’d left him, unmoving. She walked to him and his arms opened automatically. Em didn’t hesitate to throw herself into them. Jay buried his face in her neck as she brought her arms around his back. Even through his shirt, she could feel the marks that monster had left on his body and the way he trembled from head to toe.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He’s gone. He’s gone and we’re here. Together. Everything’s okay.” She knew she was babbling, but she didn’t care. If the words existed to calm him, she would find them, even if she had to go through every word in the English language.
Jay’s head pulled back and his deep blue eyes focused on her with alarm. “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”
Em could only nod and force the words past the lump in her throat. “And you’re my everything. As long as we’re together, everything will be all right.”
&nb
sp; “I love you.” Jay’s warm lips pressed against her temple and she felt his chest expand against her with a deep steadying breath.
“I love you, too.”
He allowed her to hold him a short while longer, before extracting himself from her embrace and heading back into the kitchen. Em followed slowly, not entirely sure what was going through his head. He’d found gravy—who knows where—and was heating it on the stove, while biscuit batter sat in a bowl on the counter.
Her fingers itched to touch him, but she forced herself to stand back and watch him move silently around the room, scooping batter and putting the tray in the oven. When he slammed it shut hard enough to jostle the bowl off the counter, Em jumped.
“Jay?”
“I can’t.” His hand drove forcefully through his hair, tugging at the roots.
“Jay, everything’s going to be—”
“I can’t believe this shit.”
Em felt herself tense at the venom in his tone, though she knew it wasn’t meant for her. She’d rarely seen Jay so angry.