by Laura Brown
I was finishing the last coat when my phone vibrated.
Jas: You done?
Me: Just about, give me a minute.
I rinsed out my brush and had to adjust to the room after staring at an up-close object for such a long time. When my eyes focused, I caught Jas watching.
“No cheating,” I signed.
She picked up her wine goblet and set it down next to mine, lips pressed together. I took in hers, then mine, and caught the amusement in her eyes. We’d done the exact same thing.
“I think we’ve known each other too long,” I signed.
Jas doubled over in laughter and fell into the chair next to me. “You think?”
I slid my fingers between her hair and neck in order to tug her toward me. Her lips met mine. We belonged together, like the yin yang, like the goblets we’d made. We matched. And that was my only excuse for what I signed next.
“You’re planning on living with me, right? I’d hate to separate the wine goblets.”
Jas pulled back with a jerk. “We just started dating.”
I eyed the matching pieces of ceramic. “I think we know each other quite well.”
She shook her head, then got up to return her paints. I stayed where I was, noting the tension in her shoulders, and wanted to kick myself. Way to go, Dev.
“I’m sorry. Forget it. You know you can stay as long as you like.”
“No, you’re right. I should probably look for my own place anyways.”
“Stop that. What’s so wrong with staying with me?”
“I’m not a charity project. I’m not another little thing you can help rather than help yourself.”
I balled up my hands. Low blow, but I deserved it. “I know that. But I happen to like you sharing my bed.” Jas shifted as though to turn, and I caught her wrist. “That came out wrong.”
“No. You’re right.” She glanced around, clearly looking for an escape. “Don’t you have a class to get to?”
Like I gave a shit about my classes right now. “Let me explain.”
She shook her head, her eyes glassy and causing my gut to clench. “No. I need to figure things out for myself. As I always do.” She collected her jacket and left.
I prayed she wouldn’t try walking off as I gathered up our projects and brought them to the front to pay and find out the schedule for them to be fired and ready. By the time I made it outside, she was standing by my car. I wanted to gather her in my arms, tell her to forget everything. I almost did, until she sent me a look that froze my balls.
Jas was going to need some time before she’d listen to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jasmine
WHAT WAS I going to do with a painted wine goblet?
Not that it was bad to have nice things—I couldn’t wait to have it finished and glazed and filled with a drink—but I still had nowhere to put it.
I walked through Dev’s kitchen. He’d already left for class, and I had the place to myself. I could all but see both of our goblets sitting side by side on a shelf. The thought tugged at my heartstrings, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because living here was temporary or because I wanted to gaze at the goblets and know they represented home.
Didn’t matter. I wasn’t one to mooch, and I’d been here long enough. I settled on the couch and pulled out my phone to check on apartment listings. Craigslist was out after my last experience, but everything else was more than double the cost. My entire check would go toward my living arrangements, giving me nothing to put aside for savings.
Story of my life. Nothing went my way, ever.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cushion, wishing to go back to childhood. Before housing even became an issue. I’d been worried about my living arrangements for nearly a decade. It was tiring and frustrating and not fair. Why couldn’t I stay here, with Dev? Why couldn’t I accept what I knew he’d give me?
Life.
Every time I let down my guard, got too comfortable, something else happened to mess it up. I knew Dev wouldn’t hurt me, not on purpose, but I also knew I couldn’t tempt fate or I’d be back on my ass for who knew what reason.
I checked the listings a second time. Dev might be the mathematician out of the two of us, but even I knew living alone was a lose-lose situation. The balance of income and expenses meant I’d need to utilize my savings, not increase it, and once that ran out, I’d be screwed.
Unless I stayed.
I sent a text to Nikki.
Me: How soon after dating someone would you consider living with them?
Nikki: Me? No clue, haven’t dated anyone I’d consider placing my toothbrush next to. But you’re not asking about me. You’re referring to the person you’re currently living with.
I threw my head back against the cushions, only moving it when my phone vibrated again.
Nikki: And you two know each other better than anyone I’ve dated. What’s the problem?
Me: Hello? He’d be supporting me.
Nikki: Good, let his little helper complex have an outlet. You know you keep him from bugging the rest of us, right?
Me: You could take on some of that and give me a breather.
Nikki: You love it and you know it so stop complaining.
I took a deep breath and typed the next part with my eyes closed.
Me: And what happens when it crashes and burns?
Nikki: You fight it out, make up, and keep going.
Nikki: Dev isn’t your parents. He won’t let you down.
I wanted to believe that, but rooted deep in my subconscious lived a little girl who, no matter what she did, could never get her parents back. I feared I’d ruin us if I stayed.
I hadn’t messaged him by the time I made it to work. And he hadn’t messaged me. I wasn’t strong enough to bring this up on my own, too afraid of where the pieces would fall. That didn’t stop me from checking for him each time the door opened. I knew he’d show up sooner or later, and like a middle schooler with a crush, I kept checking. Even though I’d just tell him to go home.
It took an hour, but he arrived. I stood by a table, some chick getting a kick out of writing on my board. My eyes locked on Dev. I thought for sure he’d get some sort of thrill out of the position I was in. He never took in the table or anything below my neck, only my face.
My traitorous body warmed up a few degrees.
My customers finished, and I headed to the bar to drop off my orders, only to find Len MIA. Again. I wanted to tell Dev to leave, but the words wouldn’t come. Or maybe I didn’t want to sign them.
Before I could slip behind the bar, he grasped my elbow. His short sleeves showed off his tat, which hit me with an influx of emotions.
If I drank, now would be the time to drown myself for some serenity.
“I’m working,” I signed.
He looked around the place. We had two tables and three people at the bar—that was it. “They can wait.” Even with all my walls and back-off vibe in place, Dev wrapped his arms around me, held me tight. My eyes stung, and I blinked to keep them clear.
I kept my hands at my side, and eventually Dev pulled away. “I’m not stopping until you hug me.”
I rolled my eyes but put my arms around him. The feel of him seeped through all my defenses, as he damn well knew it would. Instead of letting him go, I pressed in further, breathed him in. Accepted one moment of him before pulling back. “I looked up apartment listings today.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
I couldn’t, really. Life didn’t give me options. “Maybe it would be better.” I cursed myself. I had my answer and still couldn’t share it, couldn’t put myself out there.
He banged on the bar top, and I closed my eyes, feeling everyone in the bar looking our way. When I opened them, he was ready to pounce. “Bullshit. You’re scared. Of us. Of needing help.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“We all need something.”
I swallowed, but my throat wa
s dry. I rounded the bar and blindly went about creating a drink that no one had ordered. When I was finished, I set it down and backed away until I bumped into the wall where all the alcohol was kept.
I hadn’t made it just to make something. I’d made it for me.
Dev studied me, but he didn’t need any explanation. He knew. He leaned over the bar and plucked the drink out of my reach. “What you need does not involve alcohol. It involves people. And you’ve shut them out for ten years.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
He held up a hand. “It’s true. I think I’m in a position to know this better than you. Name one friend you have that you met after your dad died.”
My world was small. I kept it small. Dev, Nikki, Pete. And we’d been friends since elementary school. “Maybe you three are already too much to handle.”
“Or maybe . . . ” He trailed off. “Maybe you’ve lost so much you’re too afraid of losing more.” He reached out, brushed a hand just under my tattoo. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you.”
I caught shifting at one of the tables and grabbed my tray, not explaining to Dev what I was doing. I didn’t know which end was up or which end I wanted to be up. The only thing I knew was that I really wanted that drink.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Devon
I KEPT MY eyes on Jasmine. Her stiff shoulders were the only indication a war raged inside her. She needed this, needed to break through these issues holding her back.
The timing sucked.
I fiddled with my phone but didn’t dare drag Pete and Nikki into this. This was our battle.
I picked up her drink, letting the liquid swirl around. I had always supported her decision not to drink and thought it was precautionary if not odd.
The look in her eyes said otherwise.
For the first time, I got it, truly got it. If she kept her distance, she’d be fine. This was her world as she wanted it. As long as what happened tonight didn’t repeat.
I took a sip and nearly sputtered. It was some of the strongest shit I’d ever tasted, like a messed-up Long Island iced tea. She would have been drunk halfway through.
Heck, I could be drunk halfway through. I put it aside, leaned back against the bar, and couldn’t find Jas. Len was missing, and she had disappeared. I was about to get up to check the back room when she returned to the area, her tough-girl exterior shaken up. To everyone else, she looked normal. A bit frazzled, sure, the frizz to her hair adding to the effect. But others wouldn’t see the vulnerability glistening in her eyes or catch the way her fingers brushed at her thighs. I did. And I knew she could mask even that much unless she wanted me to see.
She came right over to me and put her head on my shoulder. I breathed out, as if I had been holding it, and wrapped her close. I wanted to thank some higher power that she still came to me, because I was not ready to lose her. I’d never be ready.
She pulled back, eyes on my drink. Her hands shook when she signed. “I can’t believe I did that.”
I squeezed her shoulder. Signed nothing.
“That’s strong. Don’t drink it.”
“I have a few more sips before you have to drive me home.”
A light laugh came to her lips and vanished. “I should find my own place.”
“You won’t be my roommate when Blake moves out?”
“Seriously? They’re making it official?”
I nodded, and Jas’s smile fell.
“I can’t afford his rent. I can’t afford any rent.”
“We can find a small one-bedroom somewhere.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she stepped out of my grasp. “We’ve been dating for less than a week, and you want to live with me?”
“I’ve wanted to live with my best friend for years. Now we don’t need a second room.”
The door opened, and a new crowd came in. “I have to work.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
She hesitated but nodded. I relaxed against the bar. Took another sip of my drink that burned a hole straight through my stomach, then pushed it aside. That drink needed a label: drunk in one gulp.
Before things went any further, we needed to solve her living situation. She could contribute to my part of the rent, that would be no problem, maybe split a utility bill. But Jas was used to living on her own.
I thought of my volunteer job. This was the type of situation they helped with. A problem arose, like housing, and options were researched and presented. I wanted Jas with me, yes, but I could research her options, let her decide what was best for her.
She tried to ignore me, but the bar remained slow, and even doing both waitress and bartender duties didn’t save her from me. Therefore she cleaned. And when that failed, she finally came over.
“How bad?” She pointed to the drink, about a fourth gone. She hadn’t offered me anything else, but I suspected that was due more to her head not being in the game.
“Strong.”
She eyed the drink as if it had challenged her to a duel. “I need to know how bad.” She took the drink, brought it to her lips, and took the smallest sip ever. Her eyes grew wide, and she pulled it away. “Wow.”
She turned and poured it down the sink. “And you drank some of that?”
I held my hands out to the empty area in front of me. “That’s all you gave me.”
She shook her head and leaned forward, resting it on the counter. I smoothed down her hair, anything to touch her.
Jas stood up. “I’m sorry. You want a drink?”
“I’m fine.”
She nodded, then left to do more unnecessary work. On nights like this, I usually stayed as her support. Tonight I wasn’t helping her. For all the benefits of us dating, there were some things friends could do that boyfriends couldn’t. Therefore I forced her to look at me when she came back around. “Are you coming home with me tonight? Yes or no?”
This should have been one of those no-brainer questions. It wasn’t.
She took her time, nibbling her lip before nodding.
I got up. “I’ll see you there. You can have the bed.”
A small smile lit her face. “Funny, like we can stay apart.”
Once home, I paced the damn apartment, waiting. I couldn’t sit, couldn’t watch a movie or play a game. Nothing. I needed to be active. I grabbed my loop headset and phone and headed down into the basement.
The small room held a washer and dryer for the building, and someone had hung a punching bag in the corner. I felt the machines and checked the dials, but nothing was in use. Which meant unless someone wanted to start their laundry at eleven at night, I had the place to myself.
I switched my hearing aids onto the t-coil mode, the slight rumbling of pipes or just mechanical shit fading to a light buzzing noise. I slipped the loop around my neck and plugged it into my phone. Then I scrolled through my music until I found some heavy metal.
When I pressed Play, the sound traveled up to my aids. I toggled it up to a level Blake once called deaf when I forgot to plug my headset in. Then we both laughed, because yeah, it was deaf level.
Anything less was nonexistent.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, then rotated my shoulders and swung my arms. I approached the bag and imagined transferring all the stress weighing me down. Fists up, we studied each other.
Then I swung.
Right, then left. Left ached a bit due to shifting skin near the tattoo, so I began a one-two-three, leading with my right.
I punched until my fists hurt, until my breath came in fast spurts. My shirt clung to my back and chest from sweat. I pried it from my skin and yanked it over my head, then kept going, needing a release that wouldn’t come.
I wanted Jas safe and happy and feared I’d only fuck it up.
I knew her better than anyone else, yet I still didn’t know how to be what she needed. It all boiled down to one word: help. My desire to help her would always be in conflict with her desire to not accept it from anyo
ne else. She’d interpret my help as control, not realizing my true intentions were her happiness.
If she never accepted help, she’d never be part of a team. And even though she carried the loner vibe to her core, she wanted a family—one I’d given her willingly long before her father died.
Someone touched my shoulder. I grabbed the bag, steadying its movement, and turned. Jas stood there, taking in my bare chest with a secret little smile. I hadn’t told her where I was, but she’d found me. She wore her bar clothes, nothing else, so she’d been to the apartment.
The relief I couldn’t get hit me like a one-two punch.
“Bad day?” she signed.
I clenched and released my sore fists. “Something like that.”
She approached the bag, running a hand down the material. The blood coursing through me from the activity all ran south. “You know, I’ve seen you do this before but never tried myself.”
“It’s fun.”
She eyed me, then the bag. “What do I do?”
“Punch it.”
“That’s it.”
I shrugged. “Yes.”
She faced the bag. Sized it up and pulled one arm back, then tapped it. The bag barely shifted.
I flicked my hearing aids back to regular to stop the music, removing the cord headset around my neck and shoving it into my pocket. Then I came up beside her. “This represents all the shit going on in your life. You don’t tap it. You punch the hell out of it.” I moved behind her, picked up her wrist, and rammed it into the bag.
When I stepped back, Jas shook out her hands, studied the bag, then balled up her fists and flung. The bag jerked. She glanced at me.
“Nice. Again.”
Determination crossed her brow. She went at it again. And again. And again. Getting into it and looking sexy as hell in her skimpy outfit and high-heeled boots.