“Huh,” he scratches the scruff on his face. “I might have some sleeping pills in my bathroom?”
“Okay.”
“I'll be right back.”
Jay heads inside and I follow. No way am I waiting out here alone.
He looks over his shoulder as he unlocks his door and I'm relieved when he doesn't protest me following him inside. The house is dark when we enter but he doesn't turn on any lights as he heads down the hall. It's hard to make out the living room, but I can tell he has a couch and I lay myself down on it, curling up and wrapping my arms around a pillow cushion. I feel exhausted and I want to close my eyes, but I'm still afraid. I hear him come back in and stand over me, but I don't look up at him or make any indication that I plan on moving, because I don't. I feel safe here.
“I can't let you sleep on my couch.”
I tuck my knees up higher in defiance.
He scratches his scruff, “Seriously, it doesn't feel right having you sleep on my couch.” He lifts me up in his arms. There isn't a single nerve in my body that doesn’t feel the gratifying pleasure it brings me.
If he wants me gone he'll have to carry me home, but to my surprise he brings me down the hall to what I assume is the master bedroom. The room has a king size bed in it. He lays me down and removes my shoes before pulling a blanket over me. He goes to leave but I grab his hand, pulling him to me as I scoot back.
He starts shaking his head but I speak first.
“Please,” I plead, “I don't want to sleep alone.”
“I'll sleep on the floor.”
“Please,” I whisper softly.
He curses under his breath and I can hear him removing his shoes before sliding under the covers with me.
His whole body is stiff as he lays flat as a board on his back, arms firmly at his sides. I lift the arm facing me so I can snuggle up and I rest my head on his chest. His muscles are strained and tense under me. With every breath he takes his body loosens up and his arm slowly creeps around me. He starts stroking my hair, and within minutes I'm asleep.
Chapter 4
8:24am
Soreness can be felt all over my body. I moan as I turn onto my back in bed, but it's not my bed. This bed is much wider, and the sheets are cotton where mine are flannel. Once again I remember what happened. I sit up and my muscles feel like they have been through the ringer, all tight and sore. I take in my surroundings, which aren't much. A king size bed with a burgundy and gold comforter with swirling designs you can find at any department store. To my right is a bedside table with a lamp. The window behind me acts as a headboard and is completely bare. That's it. That's his entire room. Strange.
I see a note on the pillow next to me and I pick it up to read:
I'm in the living room. I didn’t want you to wake up and be scared to be sharing a bed with a strange man.
Jay confuses me. I've never met anyone like him. He's raw and menacing, but he has a softness to him, a sweetness that tugs at my heart. Remembering the way he dismantled those men is seconds makes my body shiver.
I get out of bed with the need to pee. Badly. Once in the hall, I'm glad to find the bathroom directly across from me.
The fan clicks on when I turn on the light, startling me. I'm extra jumpy, which doesn't surprise me after last night. That's when I see my face. The side that was slapped is bruised and swollen along my cheek near my lips. He hit me harder than I thought. I'm thinking it was more than a hard slap. My lip is slightly puffed and the skin is broken, but I think it's cut from me biting it.
I step all the way in and lean over the sink to get a better view. I touch the puffed out skin. It's definitely tender.
Jay appears in the door frame behind me, leaning the side of his body against it.
“I thought he only slapped me, but this doesn't look like something a slap can do,” my voice is still raspy and sore.
Jay's lips tighten and his jaw sets. I see the muscles in his arms clench, “No, that's definitely not from a slap. That's what happens when somebody hits you.”
I lean in closer, my nose almost touching the glass. “Why didn't it feel like a punch? Shouldn't it have hurt more when it happened?”
“Adrenaline, it can dull the pain.”
That makes sense. I had a shitload of that last night.
I stand up straight and take in his appearance through the mirror. He barely looks touched. In fact, he doesn't have a mark on him.
I whirl around, “How did you go unharmed?”
A dark chuckle vibrates the room and goosebumps form on my skin. Eerie darkness returns to his eyes, “I've fought a lot more men than that at once, and they knew what they were doing. The guys last night hadn't a clue. They were weak and slow. I could have taken them out laying on my back.”
“Now you’re just being cocky.”
“No, I'm not.”
I swallow from the seriousness of his tone.
He scratches his scruff. I notice that his knuckles are broken and red. I glance at his other hand to see it just as banged up.
I close the gap between us, grabbing the hand on his face to examine it. Wow, it looks bad. Red, raw, broken, and painful. “Are you okay?”
He yanks it away, “Quit asking me that.”
“I'm only worried about you,” I fire back.
“Don't. I made coffee if you drink it.” Jay leaves me and retreats down the hall.
I quickly go to the bathroom before heading to the front room. It's just as bare as his bedroom. A couch, a coffee table, a flat screen mounted on the wall. Underneath is a small console with an XBOX and a cable box. In the clear cabinets of the console I can see DVDs and XBOX games. To my left is an open kitchen with an island where he has one bar stool. No dining table or pictures on the wall, that's all there is to see. It only makes me more fascinated by him, which I know is dangerous. I'm not exactly the best judge of character.
“If you’re done analyzing my place I can pour you a cup of coffee. I have orange juice too, if you prefer that,” Jay's gruff voice startles me.
He's standing on the other side of the island, back facing the kitchen, drinking from a mug.
“Coffee, please.”
He goes to work filling me a cup.
“I don't like it when you use that tone with me,” I state, watching him pull out creamer.
“What tone?” His face contorts in question.
“That mean, low throat one. I like your normal voice, it's warm and comforting.”
He snorts, “I think you're the first person to use those two words to describe anything about me.”
I grab the creamer and pour it into my coffee, then take a seat on the bar stool. “It's true, I could listen to you talk all day.”
“You're strange.”
“So are you.”
Our eyes stay glued to each other as we drink our morning caffeine fix.
“How old are you?” I ask, breaking the minutes of silence.
“Twenty-five.”
“Hmm.”
“What does 'Hmm' mean?” Jay refills my cup and pours in more creamer.
I shrug, “You look older.”
He leans his back against the refrigerator, “I've lived through more than most do their whole lives. That probably has something to do with it.”
In that moment he has sucked me in. I want to know who he is, what he's thinking, and everything about him.
“You’re looking at me weird. It's kinda creeping me out,” he shifts uncomfortably from my stare.
“I'm creeping you out,” I laugh at the absurdity of his words.
A true smile forms on his face. Stevie's right, if you take away the scar and put a little light into his eyes, he's beautiful. We go back to staring at each other, absorbing the other in. Normally this would be unbearably awkward, but with Jay it's not. I'm beginning to like the way he looks at me, analyzing me, studying my face. I feel like he sees me, as cheesy as that sounds.
“Did you sleep okay?” He asks, cuttin
g in on the silence.
“Yeah, I did,” I realize, surprised. “Maybe last night had no effect on me now and I'm fine.”
“Just do me a favor and don't pretend you're okay if you're not.”
I nod my head in consent.
“I'm serious.”
“I know, I can tell.” The hardness in his features says it all.
“Good.”
We go back to silence, but this time we look anywhere but at each other.
I finish my coffee and I know I should leave, but I don't want to.
“Won't your family be worried where you are?”
“No,” I answer him, “My mom is staying over at her boyfriend's, and my brothers could care less. Is that your way of politely asking me to leave?”
“No.”
A delighted smile crosses my face and he rolls his eyes, which I find cute – it makes him appear more his age.
“Happy New Year by the way.” What a crazy way to bring in the new year. I hope it's not foreshadowing how this year will be, and just more of a shitty farewell to a crappy year, “I think my purse got left at the bar.” Which completely sucks. I'm low on funds, as I have yet to find a new job. I only had a twenty in it, but I need every cent I have. Plus, my cell phone. How am I going to pay for a new one?
“Your friends grabbed it for you. It's on my couch.” I twist my head and relief washes over me when I see it laying on the far cushion. I decide to ask him the questions I've been holding back.
“So, about last night...how did you know I was in danger?”
“You make it sound like I'm your protector or some shit. I heard a faint scream. Decided to check it out. Found a car not too far down behind the bar. Four men. Car rocking. Shouting. I checked it out. Saw some girl struggling inside. Got closer. It was you. I saw red. You know the rest.” He states it all so matter-of-fact, as if he's filing a report.
“Why did you break the window instead of opening the door?”
He rubs his hand on the top of his head. I think it's an old habit from when his hair was more of a buzz cut. “The door was locked.” He lets out a long sigh, “Well, shit, that's a lie. I actually didn't know that until after I broke the window. I was just so fucking pissed when I saw you in there I needed to break something, and the window was there before the guy.”
“Oh.”
“I think it's time for you to go now,” the hardness is back on his face.
I try not to let my disappointment show, but I know it does, “Thanks for saving me, for helping me, for letting me crash here...for the coffee.” I get up and grab my purse, shutting the door softly behind me and stealing a glance over my shoulder before it closes all the way. Jay is bent over the island, hands clutching the edge, his head hung low.
It's hard to leave and go home, but I think its for the best. Jay is unnerving and he unsettles me in a way I can't describe. I want to know all of him but I also know the smart thing to do is stay away.
It's past nine so I decide to take a long, hot shower. Then I clean my house to keep myself busy and distract myself from thinking about my neighbor, who's consuming way too many of my thoughts.
Mid-morning both Stevie and Naomi call, wanting to know what happened. I keep it simple and basically say what Jay told them: he saw the three men grab hold of me on the street, he scared them off with his colossal size, and I fainted from the drama of it all. They wanted to know all about the car ride home, but I lied, telling them we never talked and I went straight to bed. Both girls apologized for our argument at the bar and for letting me go outside alone. I told them I was serious when I said not to feel guilty, and that I truly wasn't mad at them.
I spend the rest of the day trying to read, but I can't seem to concentrate. I keep thinking about Jay and replaying last night's events.
Chapter 5
Friday, January 3
11:36am
I sleepily wave to my mom from the front door as she heads to work. She flips out when she finds yet another bruise on my face, but I tell her the bar was packed and some guy accidentally elbowed me. Luckily, she believes me and doesn't press it any further.
The past two nights I slept horribly. Nightmares consumed my dreams, making me toss and turn all night. Some dreams consisted of me not escaping and what happens to me, others Jay doesn't make it out alive, or I choke to death on my vomit. All feel real when I wake up and it takes me hours to go back to sleep, only to have another one and start the whole process over again.
Jay's truck is in his driveway and I chew on my lip, contemplating if I should go over to ask him about the plan I came up with during my many wakeful moments last night.
I decide to go for it; the worst he can say is no. I slip into my gray TOMS and go to his house. I hesitate before knocking. I'm not sure if this is a good idea. He was nice to me for a brief moment, but that doesn't mean he's my friend or even an acquaintance.
I suck it up and knock. I need sleep and he's the only person I know who might be able to help ease my mind.
No answer.
I hear loud music from the garage and figure he didn't hear so I knock louder, four times. The music turns down so I knock again to make sure he knows someone's here.
I hear the thumping of his feet, and his door finally opens. His brows knit together and he doesn't look pleased to see me, the exact opposite actually. He looks a little pissed.
“What?” Jay bites out in the gruff voice that I hate.
I stand there not speaking like a fool, feeling embarrassed for coming over. I should have known better. The feelings I had Wednesday morning were aftershocks of him rescuing me.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you,” the words stumble out. I don't understand how I have moments with him where I’m undeniably drawn to him and others where he makes me want to cower away.
He swipes the top of his head, sighing, and stares up into the sky. “What do you want?” He tones down the roughness to his voice, but it doesn't quite carry the warmth I prefer.
“I...uh...never mind.” I rock back on my heels ready to leave. This was stupid.
“Seriously, Lily, why are you here?” The sound of my name coming from his lips makes my heart skip a beat. I'm an idiot.
“I haven't been sleeping, and before you tell me I'm being a big baby, I already know that, but it's not stopping the nightmares from coming. So...I thought maybe you could teach me how to defend myself. Maybe that will help me feel more confident that if it happens again I can fight back. If I know that, then maybe the nightmares will stop and I can finally get some sleep. I like sleep. A lot. And I wouldn't mind being on better terms with it. I've had more caffeine than should be legal and I have no idea what to do to make them go away-”
Jay holds his hand up to cut me off, “Stop, you're rambling. You're wasting your breath. I won't help you. You'd be better off taking a martial arts class or something.”
“That was my first idea, but I have no money. I can't afford classes,” I start to tear up and I want to slap myself for getting emotional about this. I blame my lack of sleep.
“Get some mace and don't leave your house alone.” He looks at me like he just solved my problem and he's done with this conversation.
“I guess I could start carrying my gun. That might help,” I say it out loud, but I'm really thinking it to myself. I have a really bad habit of talking my thoughts out loud.
“You have a gun?”
“Uh huh,” I mumble, deep in thought as I leave to head home.
I'm not really keen on the idea of carrying around a gun, but it might bring me some peace of mind.
Jay takes hold of my hand and tugs me back to him, “What are you doing with a gun?”
“Present from my dad.”
“Shit. Normal dads do that too?” He half-grins, swiping the top of his head again.
“Not sure, but mine did.”
“Why?”
“When my parents divorced it made him nervous to think of us alone without him, so he
got me a gun.”
“Your mom and brother too?”
“No, just me.”
“Why?”
I can tell his curiosity is peaked.
“My mom is anti-guns and my brother was only two when they divorced.”
“So you learned when you were eleven?”
“Yeah?” How does he know how old I am?
“When I checked your I.D. At the bar.”
Crap, I said that out loud. Wait...
“I never showed you my I.D.”
“Facebook,” he reluctantly reveals.
“You looked me up on Facebook?”
“Yeah,” he answers uncomfortably.
“You're on Facebook?”
“No.”
“But you looked me up?”
“I think we've already established that.”
“Why?”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“The gun?”
He nods his head.
“Yeah, he made me take lessons.”
Why does he look irritated about that?
“Taking some lessons doesn't mean it's safe for you to be carrying a gun around with you. You'll probably get spooked and end up killing someone, or worse, yourself.”
Gawd, he sounds just like my mom.
“So teach me to defend myself.”
“No.”
“Why, not?”
“I'm not looking to make a new friend, Lily.” Wow, I love the way he says my name. “I helped you out, but that doesn't mean I want you around.”
Ouch. “Wow, I'd call you an ass, but you did save me the other night so that feels wrong,” I snap, “I'm not looking to be friends with you either, I just want to learn to defend myself in case I get attacked again.”
“Quit talking like that's an option,” he roars back at me and my breath catches in my throat. The ferocity of his stance frightens me and I take a step back.
“I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore,” I speak softly, unable to look at him. I can't believe this is the same man who held me in my sleep and took care of me when I was scared. Maybe I do have a sick, twisted need to be with men who treat me like crap.
Marked. Part I: The missing Link Page 4