“Okay, thanks.” What else can I say?
“Have a good day, Miss Richards. Bye.” She says and hangs up before I can say goodbye back.
“Who was that?” Jace says from behind me.
I cover my now racing heart with my hand, setting the phone on the counter, “The Doctor’s office. When did you get here?”
“Just a minute ago. What did the Doctor want?” he asks, setting a plastic grocery bag on the counter. He starts making a pot of coffee. Why didn’t I think to do that?
“He wants me to start another medication. Soon I’m going to be taking pills as meals if this keeps up,” I answer, sitting back on my stool out of his way.
He studies me, from the corner of his eye. I don’t think I’m supposed to notice, but I do. “What’s this one for?” he asks. I hesitate, he’s just being polite after all. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I do care. I really do want to know if you want to tell me,” he says and I wonder if he’s reading my mind.
“It’s an anti-anxiety med. We talked about it a little bit when I was in the hospital but it wasn’t in my discharge instructions so I thought he had decided against it.” I look down at the table, a wave of shame washing over me.
“How do you feel about that?” he asks, turning to face me, and hitching his hip up on the counter.
“I don’t know,” I push my hair behind my ear. “I don’t think I need it, but he does and he’s the doctor.”
He nods.
“Do you think I need it?” I ask before I even realize I’m going to.
He steps over to the island, leaning his elbows on the counter, face to face with me. “Well, I think you have a good point about him being the doctor, but I also think that it’s important how you feel about it.” He says.
“No, I mean do you think I need it,” I ask again. I don’t even know if I want the answer, but I can’t stop asking. His blue eyes search mine, as though trying to figure out what it is I want to hear, or maybe just trying to gauge if I can handle an honest answer. “You know how sometimes you meet people and you know that they’re desperately in need of medication, a new job, a divorce, whatever? But they can’t see it, because they’re in it, and they’ve been in it so long that it all feels normal to them and they’re just living their life. They can’t see it.” I try to clarify.
“Yes, I know what you mean,” he says.
I meet his gaze as steadily as I can. “Is that me?” I can hear the fear and uncertainty in my voice, and look away as tears well in my eyes. I will not cry.
His arm is around me, before I even realize he’s moved. He pulls my head gently over to his shoulder, “Aw, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.” He murmurs, stroking my hair.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me. I feel crazy. Am I crazy?” I ask, and this time I really do want the answer.
“Absolutely not. You are not crazy, Bayleigh,” I laugh at the seriousness of his voice, but it comes out as more of a hiccup sob. He backs up and steps to the side a little, tilting my chin up so I’m looking him in the eye. “You are not crazy. You’ve been through some stuff, physically, and I’m sure mentally and emotionally. I can’t say for certain, because you’ve never talked about it with me, but I can see it in your eyes. In the way your face changes when you lose yourself in your thoughts. You’re afraid. Of what, I don’t know, but it’s written all over you.” He tucks my head back into his shoulder as tears slide down my face. “I think you need to talk to someone, like we talked about before. And maybe the anti-anxiety meds will make that easier for you.” He says, stroking my hair.
“I can’t talk about it, Jace,” I say, desperately trying to get a hold on my emotions.
“Okay,” he says simply. He tilts my face up, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. It’s so unexpected it makes me laugh and he smiles wide. “There you go,” he says. He squeezes my shoulder lightly and steps over to the coffee pot, pulling a cup down from one of the hooks under the cabinet. “Want a cup?” he asks me, and I nod as I start to stand. “No, I’ve got it. I know how you like it,” he says and his words bring to mind everything I liked last night. My face reddens and though he’s facing away from me, I can see the back of his neck flush and I know he’s thinking the same. It’s oddly satisfying, knowing he’s thinking about it too.
I settle myself back on the stool, and wrap my hands around the cup when he hands it to me. He sits down next to me, and I wait until he looks away to take a drink. I don’t want him to feel bad if it’s not the way I like it and I can’t trust it not to show on my face. I’m shocked to discover it’s exactly the way I would have made it for myself. He laughs.
“I do pay attention, Tiny. I know I might seem like a caveman sometimes, but I do make mental notes about things that people I care about like.”
“I don’t think you’re a caveman,” I say, laughing. That’s the second time he’s alluded to caring about me. It’s confusing. If not for last night I would think that he thought of me as a sister, but he definitely doesn’t. I don’t know what to think about it. I know that he doesn’t do the relationship thing, and I wonder if this is how he gets so many women to fall into bed with him so easily. He really makes you feel like you matter. I remind myself again not to read too much into it.
“That’s a relief,” he says.
“What is?” I ask.
“That you don’t think I’m a caveman,” he says.
“Oh that. Definitely not,” I reply.
He takes another sip of coffee, his eyes distant and thoughtful. He sets the cup down, “Where did you go?” he asks.
“Huh? I’m right here.”
“I know, I mean, in your head. Where do you go in your head?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Just thoughts I guess. I should pay more attention.”
“No, I was just curious,” he says.
We sit in companionable silence, watching the snow fall outside. It’s so pretty and everything looks so clean and new. It’s a completely different world.
He finishes his coffee and gets up to get another cup. “What do you want for dinner?” he asks.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know what we have. I don’t think about food very much.”
“I know. I’m trying to help with that,” he says with a smirk.
“Are you trying to say something?” I ask grinning.
“Yes. You need to eat more,” he says, smiling.
“I do, do I?”
“Yes ma’am! So, think about what you want, and let me know.”
“I don’t know what we have and nothing ever sounds good. Except for french fries. They always sound good.”
“I can do that,” he says, walking over to the fridge and opening the freezer. He rummages around in it, then closes the door. He walks into the laundry room and comes back out with a bag of potatoes, “Guess I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,” he says, grinning.
“Oh no, I can’t ask you to do all that work. I can live without fries, Jace.”
He drops the bag on the counter and rummages in the freezer again, “The lady wants fries, the lady gets fries,” he says in a weird creepy voice that makes me laugh. “Vous do not argue wif ze chef, Madame!” he says in a truly terrible French accent. He keeps going, but I can’t make out words over my own laughter.
Loud knocking erupts at the front door. He spins around, slamming the refrigerator door, “Pardon moi, Madame, I hear people at ze door!” he marches towards the door, my laughter following him out of the room.
“Well, hello there,” a woman’s voice drifts back to the kitchen. A sickeningly sweet, flirty woman’s voice.
I hear murmurs from Jace, but can’t make out his words. “Is that any way to treat a beautiful woman, Jace? You should have better manners than that.” Her giggle sounds forced and fake, as her voice comes closer. I look around in a panic. I don’t think I want to be in the middle of this, but my only option is the laundry room. “Aren’t you even going to offer me a dr
ink?” she says and it’s too late to hide. Why should I hide? I live here.
“He’s not here, and he wouldn’t be happy about you being here if he was,” Jace says. “You really need to go.”
She spins around in the doorway, before she sees me. I see tall leather boots, a camel colored, expensive looking coat, and long blonde hair. It appears that her arms are around Jace’s neck.
“Come on, baby. You should be happier to see me. I’ll make sure you have a very good day.” She purrs. Jealousy hits me and I remind myself, again, he’s not mine.
His hands reach up and pull her arms from around his neck. “Knock it off, Misty. I’m not interested. Never have been, never will be.”
His words make me feel better than I care to acknowledge.
“Oh please, Jace, we both know you’re the biggest whore in town. You’ll fuck anything with a heartbeat,” she growls.
“Well, now that you’ve solved the mystery of why I’ve never fucked you, you can be on your way.” He sneers. His contempt for her is coming off of him in waves as she turns around, instantly locking eyes with me. She’s gorgeous, in a perfected, not a hair out of place, plastic kind of way.
“Oooooh, case in point! You really will fuck anything, won’t you, Jace?” she makes a tsk tsk sound and points to me, “these little trailer trash sluts are reproducing like rabbits around here.” She says pointedly.
“I guess trailer trash beats plastic then. Good to know.” Oh my god. Why did I say that?
“This one bites! Not as hard as I do though,” she swings her gaze to Jace, “luckily, I only bite for pleasure, most of the time.” Her gaze travels back to me, “I think I like you, Trailer Trash. You’re more on my level than Chance’s little slut.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not insulted that easily.”
“Insult? That was a compliment, dear,” she actually looks confused. I feel a little bit sorry for her.
“Comparing anything to you will never be a compliment. Dear.” I reply.
“Well, I tried to be nice. You’ll wish you appreciated it later,” she says, turning her attention back to Jace. He doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Jace, be a love and tell me where your brother is. He’s been calling me for days, saying he needs to see me so bad. I miss him, and he obviously misses me.”
“Misty, go try your lies on someone else. Chance hasn’t talked to you since before him and Alex got together. It’s really time to go,” he says, putting himself between her and me.
“Shows what you know. He misses me. He knows how good of a time I am, obviously better than the trash breeder.”
He grabs her arm, “You will not call my nephew trash,” he growls.
She leans into him, “Does that make you mad? Punish me, baby,” she lurches forward and licks his face. He jumps back, shoving her away.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells. “Out. Get out.” He walks to the door and opens it wide.
“This isn’t your house, Jace. You don’t even live here. You can’t tell me to get out,” she grins like the Cheshire Cat.
“I live here, and I’m telling you,” I say, shoving her towards the door and out of it, before I even realize I’m doing it, “Get the fuck out.” I turn and walk back in, Jace slamming the door closed behind me.
“That’s fucking assault, bitch! You’re going to pay for that. You’re ALL going to pay!” she screams, then stomps down the stairs to her car.
I’m shaking. I can’t believe I just did that. “Oh my god,” I mutter, looking at my hands. They’re shaking so hard it’s like they belong to someone else. Jace takes both of them in his.
“I’m sorry, Bay. I didn’t look before I opened the door, I just opened it and she pushed right past me.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine in a minute. People think I’m a really confrontational person because I kind of jump right in, but it terrifies me,” I try to explain. I feel like an idiot. He pulls me back to the kitchen and pushes me down on a stool.
“I’m okay, Jace. Please stop fawning over me,” I say.
“I do NOT fawn,” he says with mock indignity. “And if I did fawn, which I don’t, but if I did, I would do it in a manly and protective way.”
The laugh surprises me. Being around him is like living on an endless roller coaster full of constant surprises. “Okay, well stop being protective in a manly way,” I say between breaths.
“I’ll try,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“So, who is she?” I ask when my giggles subside.
He looks up from stirring two cups of coffee, and I’m grateful when he hands me mine. “She’s a… troubled woman.”
“Troubled how?” I ask.
“You know what you said earlier, about people needing help and not being able to see it themselves?” he asks.
“Yeah. So, she’s like that, you think?”
“Don’t you?” he asks me.
I think about my answer. “Well, maybe. I mean she’s obviously rich, and used to getting her own way.” He nods. “But if I really had to guess, I’d think she’s got some major self-esteem issues. She feels worthless, no matter how much she argues that she’s amazing. She’s baiting people into telling her what she already believes. She has attachment issues, latching onto people she knows have no interest in her, so that it will validate her own opinion of herself.”
He’s staring at me like I have three heads. “I’m sorry, it’s just speculation. I don’t know anything about her. It’s just… that’s how she seemed. To me.” He’s still staring at me. “Like, throwing herself at you, and, apparently, Chance. She desperately wants to be loved, but she doesn’t know what love is, so she can’t find it anywhere. She’s looking in all the wrong places. I guess you do that when you’ve never felt love.” Still staring.
I push my hair behind my ear, feeling my cheeks flush. “What? You asked.”
“Yes, I did. Did Alex tell you about her?”
“No, Alex never mentioned her. It’s just the way she acts, the way she dresses, the things she said. I’m probably wrong on most of it, it’s just what came to mind.”
I take a sip of coffee, happy that it gives me a moment of not filling the awkward silence.
“And, her threats? What do you make of those?” he asks.
“If she gets the chance, she’ll follow through. She’ll make us pay, whatever that means to her.”
“You believe she’s dangerous?” he asks, eyes wide with shock.
“I believe that anyone can be dangerous, in the right circumstances. Her stars and moons are all aligned.”
“Anyone?” he asks. “You think I’m dangerous?” He grins, trying to be funny.
“I think you have the potential, everyone does.”
The air rushes out of his lungs in a whoosh, his eyes so sad it breaks my heart, “I’d never hurt you, Bay. You have to believe that. I’m not made that way.”
My voice sounds as resigned as I feel, “Of course you would.”
His eyes wide, his mouth forms a solid oh, but I rush ahead before he can argue, “I’m not saying you’d want to. Think for a minute. If someone hurt Alex, or Chance, really hurt them, what would you do?” I ask.
“I’d hurt them back.”
“And what if someone hurt Cadan?”
“I’d kill them,” he says with no hesitation at all.
“Would you?” I ask.
“No doubt. I’d happily spend the rest of my life in prison if someone hurts that baby.”
I nod. “Now… what if I hurt Cadan?” I ask.
“You would never do that!” he almost yells. “Why would you say that?”
“Wait. Just listen. I would never hurt Cadan on purpose, but forget that part. What if he and I were going somewhere and I answered my cell phone and plowed into a telephone pole and he got hurt. Would you hurt me?”
His stunned look dissipates into one of confusion, “I can’t… I mean, it would be an accident, I don’t…” his voice drifts off.<
br />
“See? Circumstances can change in a second, and all we can do is what feels right in the moment. You can’t say you’d never hurt me, because what if I hurt someone who’s higher on your protection list?”
“But…. you couldn’t,” he says.
“You’re right, all things being equal, I liked to believe I’d take my own life before hurting someone I love, but I don’t know that anymore. Neither can you.”
He stares into his mug, searching for answers in the steaming black liquid. “Until we’ve been tested, I don’t think any of us knows what we’re capable of. Take Alex, for example. I watched her let Travis beat her down, emotionally, physically, mentally. Over, and over again. I picked her up off the floor, literally bruised and bloody, more times than I care to count. Not one time did I stop him. I wanted to. I considered it. When he was rough with her in front of me, I tried to get in the middle, but she would beg me not to, and I knew it made things worse for her, so I did as she asked. Because I love her.” I look up and he nods in understanding. “But when push came to shove, when it was her or me…” I regret the words, even as they’re coming out of my mouth. I can’t finish.
I see realization all over his face. I jump up, start to run away, a feeling of panic tearing my chest apart. He grabs my arm, “Wait, Bay. Wait. You can talk to me, I swear. Whatever you say, it stays between us. I won’t judge you.”
I try to yank my arm away, but he won’t let go. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Please, Bay. You have to let it go. It’s killing you.”
I’m hyperventilating. “I c-c-can’t b-breathe. P-p-p-please.” My legs buckle, and he catches me around the waist before I hit the floor.
He picks me up, and carries me through the living room to the couch. He sets me down and shoves my head down between my knees. I try to fight, but he won’t let go. “Breathe, Baby. Just breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe. I swear to God, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t hurt you. Just breathe,” he’s begging and sounds panicked himself. I realize I’m scaring the hell out of him.
I try to drag in air, but it feels like shards of glass and I cough, tears streaming down my face. I’m drowning on land. My heart is beating so hard, it’s all I can hear now. It pounds in my ears, faster and faster, blocking everything else out.
Faith (Stregth Series Book 2) Page 6