Now or Never

by Jamie Canosa

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Jay

  Morning shifts sucked, there was no two ways about it. Jay rolled out of bed and slapped the alarm harder than strictly necessary. He’d just closed last night and was running on a grand total of three-and-a-half hours of sleep. The rate he was going, he might as well just set up a cot in Bart’s office. He saw more of that place than he did of home anymore, and still it wasn’t enough. Nothing he did ever seemed to be enough.

  Jay continued to set aside money for his father to make sure what happened with Em would never happen again, while the unpaid bills piled up on the counter, the most recent labeled as “final disconnect notices”. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, though. Shit was falling apart faster than he could keep it together and he had no idea what to do other than keep his priorities straight, in which case Em would always come first.

  After a quick shower—a luxury he wasn’t taking for granted anymore—Jay dragged on his jeans and shuffled out to the truck. He was still rubbing sleep from his eyes when he stepped into Bart’s and found himself ambushed by Ashlyn.

  “We need to talk.”

  That woke him right up. “What happened? Is Em okay?”

  “She says she is.”

  “What does that mean? Is she or isn’t she, Ash?”

  “I-I don’t know. Something happened last night.”

  Jay’s jaw clenched hard. If his father had—

  “We were robbed. On our way to this show with Mason, we had some car trouble and I . . . I pulled over. And there were these guys. They had a gun.”

  “What happened?” Jay felt like he floated in time, not knowing whether to want or dread the end of that story.

  “Everyone’s okay. No one got hurt. But one of them . . . Em didn’t have any money, but they didn’t believe her when she told them that. One of them . . . searched her.”

  “He touched her?” How Ashlyn made out the words gritted so harshly between his teeth that he barely understood himself, he didn’t know, but she nodded solemnly. “And Em?”

  “She kind of freaked.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Jay had barely removed his coat before Ashlyn dropped this shit on him, and he was already pulling it back on.

  “When we got home, she went straight to bed. I checked on her first. She swore she was fine. She looked okay. Said she overreacted. Blamed it on not eating anything all day and too much excitement. I just . . . I thought you should know.”

  Overreaction, his ass. That was bullshit. That was so much fucking bullshit, and Ash knew it or she wouldn’t be standing there, telling him all of this.

  The door opened again behind them and when Mason strode in like he hadn’t a care in the world, Jay lost all control.

  “What the hell happened last night?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, shoving Mason against the wall.

  “What the hell? Nothing. We got robbed by some thugs, but everyone’s fine. No big deal. Chill out.”

  “No big deal? You let those assholes put their hands on her and that’s no big deal?” He knew damn well it was a big deal to Em.

  “No one got hurt. They just—”

  “No one touches Em. You get me? You let anyone put their hands on her again and I will rip yours off.”

  “All right. I get you.” Mason threw up his hands in surrender.

  Jay didn’t have time for this shit. He had to find Em. Part of him knew it was a bad idea. He should leave her alone. But he couldn’t do it. Not after what Ashlyn had just told him. He needed to see her. See for himself if she was okay. Em was good at putting on a show, making people believe she was fine when she wasn’t—she’d done it for years—but he could see through all that crap straight to what was going on behind those damn walls of hers.

  Ashlyn was still standing beside the bar, gaping at him in stunned silence.

  “Where is she?”

  “My house. She doesn’t work til later.” Her gaze drifted past Jay to Mason and back again. “You know, it wasn’t his fault we—”

  “I’m going over there.”

  Her attention snapped fully to him. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “I have to see her. Tell Bart I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “What if—?”

  He didn’t hear the rest of her question. He was already out the door and headed across the lot to his truck. He was only going to look. Play the creepy stalker for a few minutes, catch a glimpse of her, convince himself she was okay, and go back to work. But when he pulled up to the curb outside Ashlyn’s house and saw her through the bay window, curled up on the couch in a little ball, arms wrapped protectively around herself, staring at a blank TV screen, that plan was shot to hell.

  With no clue what he was going to say, Jay rang the bell and waited. A moment later, the door cracked open an inch and anxious eyes peered out at him. The fear lurking in their depths made him sick to his stomach.

  “Jay?” The relief in her voice made him want to hit something. If he’d just been there last night . . .

  “Em—”

  The door flung open and before he could get another word out, she flew into his arms. Jay wrapped her up tight, just glad to have her there again, even if only for a minute. Ushering her back into the house, out of the cold, he shut the door behind them.

  “Ashlyn told me what happened. Are you all right?” She stared up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes before becoming intensely focused on her mismatched socks. Fingers knotted in front of her, she shuffled back toward the living room.

  It was a stupid question. He didn’t even know why he bothered asking it. One look at her was all it took to know that she was far from all right. But it was the fact that she didn’t want to tell him—to talk to him—that got to him the most. He’d given her no reason to. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even be there, but he couldn’t let her retreat behind her walls. Not from him.

  “Em . . .” He tailed her into the living room, refusing to have her out of his sight even for a moment. “I know we’re not . . . No matter what we are or aren’t, you can always talk to me, Em. I will always be here for you, no matter what. I hope you know that.”

  “I do. I just . . .” She picked up a sofa pillow and tucked it neatly into the corner of the couch. She was hedging. Because she couldn’t say how she really felt.

  “Don’t trust me.” It wasn’t any less than he deserved, though it ruptured his heart.

  “What? No!” Em spun around, facing him for the first time since they’d entered the house with disbelief. “It’s not that. Of course I trust you.”

  It was selfish, and wrong, and screwed up on just about every level there was, but those words soothed his wound and made him feel whole again. “Then, what? What is it?”

  Em sighed, her dark lashes fanning across her pale cheeks as she hid from the truth. “I feel . . . foolish.”

  Jay found he was having a hard time dragging his attention from the way her lips quivered as she spoke. “Why?”

  “Because . . .” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, worrying it between her teeth, and Jay was beginning to feel as though he had ADD.

  What she was saying was important, but damn, it was distracting when she did that. Wrong. That was wrong. She had a boyfriend, for chrissakes. A boyfriend who wasn’t him—and that was a sledgehammer to the chest.

  She didn’t say anymore. She didn’t need to. The answer was clear in the tense set of her jaw, her small hands fisted at her sides, her shoulders slumped forward trying to make herself even smaller—invisible.

  “Because you’re terrified.” And his heart broke all over again. This girl—this sad, scarred, frightened, beautiful girl—was going to be the death of him.

  Em freed her lip—thank God—and her throat made hard work of swallowing. He watched her fight it. A bystander in her struggle against the truth. But eventually her arms folded around herself and she gave in with a single nod. The admission alone seeme
d to break her into a million pieces right before his eyes.

  “Baby.” That one whispered word was all it took to shatter the walls she was trying so desperately to hide behind, and she collapsed into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

  Her body shook with sobs as he lowered them both onto the couch. Time passed as he ran his hand over her hair, whispering soothing words of comfort. He had no idea how much time. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the girl in his arms. She was his world, his life, his everything.

  “I want to be okay.” Her voice was muffled against his chest and thick with tears. “I’m sick of being this way. Ashlyn and Mason were both there and they’re fine. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, I just—”

  “Em.” Slipping his fingers beneath her damp chin, Jay tipped her face up until he could meet her watery eyes. “It was a big deal for you. It was dark, and you were scared, and they . . .” His teeth ground so tightly together he couldn’t even get the words out. “It stirred up a whole lot of shit you shouldn’t have to deal with anymore.”

  “It’s been months, Jay.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Everything you’ve been through? That shit doesn’t just go away, Em. You can’t expect it to.”

  She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder, taking comfort from the one person who could give it to her. As selfish as it made him, Jay was glad that person was still him.

  “I’m just so sick and tired of being afraid.”

  “I know. Things will get easier, Em. You just have to give yourself time.”

  “How much time?”

  “As much time as it takes. This isn’t a race, baby. You’ll get there, I promise. Don’t give up, Em. Never give up. You’re too strong for that.” He knew she didn’t believe it now, but he didn’t have to prove it. He just had to keep her fighting long enough to prove it to herself.

  Jay pressed a brief kiss to her hair and immediately hated himself for giving in to the impulse. There was a line between friendship and something more. He couldn’t keep sending her these mixed signals. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t even be there. It wasn’t his place anymore. How could he expect her to let go when he kept hanging on?

  ***

  He was back at work for an hour before Em arrived. Jay knew he needed to keep his distance, that going to Ashlyn’s house had been a mistake on his part. He needed to give her space, let her stand on her own two feet, not suffocate her with concern. But he couldn’t bear not seeing her. The constant worry that she was in pain, that she needed him and he wasn’t there, wriggled in the back of his mind like a worm in the mud, burrowing its way in until it consumed his thoughts. He’d been screwing up orders all afternoon and if he didn’t get his shit together, Bart was going to start docking his pay for all the wasted alcohol he’d been pouring down the drain.

  When she walked in, it was like a vice that had been clenched around his chest suddenly eased away. He could breathe again. She was there, and she was still in one piece. The cracks were obvious to anyone who cared to look, but she held herself together. All on her own. So damn strong.

  The reminder as to why he couldn’t duck beneath the bar and pull her into his arms like he wanted to came fast and brutal as Mason met her just inside the door. He looked genuinely concerned about her—and after Jay’s reaction that morning, he damn well should—but the understanding behind that concern was absent. There was a key to her suffering, a missing piece to the puzzle that unlocked those walls and allowed you to see behind them. A key only Jay possessed.

  Deep down, Jay knew he couldn’t blame Mason for not understanding, but it didn’t make him want to throttle him any less. The smile on Em’s face was so plastic she looked like a friggin’ Barbie doll. How the hell could he not see that? He had to be blind not to see how much she was still hurting even if he couldn’t grasp why.

  When he grinned back at her, obviously placated by her BS facade, Jay grit his teeth against the word echoing through his brain. Idiot!

  “What do ya say, Jay, you up for a little fun tonight? My roommate’s out of town for the weekend.” Sahara strutted by the bar, distracting him from Em’s performance.

  “Not a chance, Sahara.” Grabbing an empty glass, he tossed it in the sink and snapped on the faucet.

  Her lower lip jutted out in the most seductive fake pout he’d ever witnessed. That girl could really work it. “You hurt my feelings, Jay.”

  “Please. I could no more hurt your feelings than a John could hurt a hooker.”

  “Ouch. Harsh.” She cast a coy smile his way. “Yet accurate. You weren’t nearly as good as I thought you’d be, anyway. False advertising.” With a flip of her bottle blonde hair, she sauntered off, sashaying her hips for everyone at the bar to witness.

  And he’d allowed that tongue inside his mouth? What the hell was wrong with him? Jay was suddenly overcome by the urge to brush his teeth. With bleach.

  ***

  Dozens of crescent shaped marks marred Jay’s palms from the sheer number of times he’d balled his hands into fists throughout the evening. Each time Em flinched when a customer brushed past her. Each time she jumped at a loud noise or an unexpected touch and no one else noticed. No one else comforted her. Told her it was all right to be afraid. That it would get better. It might not be his place anymore, but it was someone’s. And that someone was completely fucking clueless.

  When they finally left—Em and the idiot . . . together—Jay released his frustration. Knuckles cracked open and bled as he slammed his fist into the side of the bar, earning him more than a couple strange looks from the stragglers who refused to get the hell out so he could go home. He didn’t give a damn. It was late and he was tired. The entire day had royally sucked. But, then again, that was true of most days.

  Ten minutes later, the bar was cleaned and prepped for the following day. Snatching up the final glass with a splash of vodka cranberry left in the bottom, his last remaining customer finally took the hint and pulled on his long, dark overcoat, tossing a few dollars on the bar before heading for the door. No tip. Figured.

  Washing out the glass, he shoved it in the drying rack and pulled on his own jacket. Bart was still in the back going over paper work, so he didn’t bother with the lights, heading straight for his truck. All he wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out for a few solid hours.

  Life was never that simple, though. He’d barely turned onto the road when a detour sent him the long way home. What the hell had he done to piss off the universe so badly? At a stop light, Jay dropped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes to count to ten. His hand was throbbing and the last thing he needed was to cause real damage by hitting something else with it. He opened them again just in time to see a girl crossing the street on the opposite side of the intersection. As she passed through the beam of his headlights, Jay uttered a curse.

  Un-fucking-believeable. It was Em. Walking. Alone. In the middle of the friggin’ night. Son of a bitch. Hitting his turn signal, Jay waited impatiently for the light to turn green before cruising up slowly behind her. He leaned over to crank open the passenger window as he approached, doing his best not to scare the crap out of her.

  “Em!” She jumped anyway and Jay’s fingers clenched the steering wheel.

  “Jay. What are you doing here?” Em glanced up and down the street as though she’d expected someone else—maybe the boogie monster from the look in her eyes—and stepped closer to the truck.

  “Heading home. What are you doing?”

  “Heading home,” she parroted back and it almost made Jay smile. If she was being a smart-ass, she must be feeling at least a little better. Then he remembered how she was getting home and his lips turned downward, instead.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” He hadn’t meant to snipe the word, but he knew his aim was true when she flinched. Damn him.

  “Out.”

  “Without you?” Jay tried to sound merely curious, but she knew him well enou
gh that he knew his annoyance showed through.

  “I didn’t feel like going.”

  “And he couldn’t drive you home first?”

  “I told him not to bother. It’s not that far and it’s a nice night.”

  “He still should have taken you. It’s late, you shouldn’t be walking by yourself. Get in.”

  “I really don’t—”

  “Get in the car, Em.” He saw the fight coming in the way she narrowed her eyes, so he quickly added, “Please. Otherwise, I’m just going to have to follow you all the way home.”

  Em shook her head—knowing full-well he meant every word—and climbed into the passenger’s seat, slamming the door behind her. Jay slid out into traffic and promptly got stuck at a red light.

  “I don’t get it.” Jay picked at the fraying seams of the steering wheel, trying to avoid her gaze, but he still caught the confusion written in the scrunch of her brow. “Mason? I tell you to give someone else a chance, and you pick Mason Locklier?”

  “I didn’t want to pick anyone. Ashlyn picked Mason, I just followed her advice. And yours.”