"Yeah, well." He glanced around. "There's not ten. But you're right, there's a few."
Stalling, I asked, "How many is a few?"
"If you want, I'll give you a tour." He smiled. "Tomorrow." And with that, he reached for my hand and gently tugged me from the chair. The blanket fell onto the floor, and I glanced back, wondering if I should fold it up or something.
After all, it felt pretty rude not to.
"Leave it," Jax said. "The cleaning crew will get it tomorrow."
"But—"
"And," he said, "there's fresh blankets in the bedroom. Now c'mon."
Chapter 20
He was right. There were fresh blankets, along with a queen size bed, a private bathroom, and huge windows that faced the rear of the house.
In the bathroom, I found fresh towels along with a basket of toiletries. The way it looked, the room had been pre-stocked with anything a surprise guest might need, well, except for clothes.
And Jax solved that problem, too.
After showing me to the room, he told me that he'd be returning in a few minutes with some clothes that I could borrow. True to his word, he returned five minutes later with a neat stack of folded clothing.
Burning with new embarrassment, I took the stack from his hands and thanked him yet again.
"Not a problem," he said. "If there's anything you need, just holler, alright?"
It was a funny thing to say, because with the size of the house, I probably would need to holler. And loudly, too. For all I knew, he'd be on a different floor entirely.
"Actually," I said, "I really do need my phone. You said it's here in the house?"
Silently, he reached into his pocket and pulled out my phone, along with my wallet. He placed both of them on the stack of clothing and asked, "Anything else?"
I shook my head. "Thanks for everything. And sorry for all the trouble."
He smiled. "Like I said before, I don’t mind a little trouble."
I'd caused him a lot more than a little, but this time, I didn't argue. Instead, I said goodnight and watched as he turned away, only to stop in mid-step. He turned back and said, "Do me a favor. Lock the door, alright?"
I gave the bedroom door a nervous glance. I would've locked it anyway, out of habit if nothing else. But his warning wasn't exactly comforting. "Why?" I asked.
"Better safe than sorry." And with that, he turned and strode off, leaving me watching from the open doorway.
When he disappeared around the corner, I shut the bedroom door and locked it behind me. And then, I ran a hot bath and washed the grit out of my hair.
I emerged after a long soak feeling a lot warmer and nearly human. Wrapped in an oversized towel, I began sifting through the stack of clothing, which I'd placed on the bathroom countertop.
Rifling through the pile, I found several pairs of shorts, black yoga pants, a Michigan State sweatshirt, a bunch of socks, and a few cotton T-shirts in varying colors and sizes.
Tucked within the folds of the largest T-shirt, I discovered a wad of lacy undergarments with the tags still attached.
Feeling incredibly self-conscious, I lifted a pair of pink panties and glanced at the tag. I couldn’t help but swallow. They cost more than my best pair of jeans.
Whose panties were these, anyway?
Obviously, they'd never been worn, but they surely belonged to someone – unless Jax kept a supply on-hand, just in case.
On that disturbing note, I dropped the panties onto the stack and stared at the whole pile. There was enough clothing for several nights.
It was incredibly thoughtful and just a little bit unnerving.
Wrapping the towel tighter around my chest, I looked up to study my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Just like always, my mom's face stared back at me.
My hair was still dripping, and any makeup was long washed away. But the face was all too familiar, and I tried to smile at my reflection. Why, I wasn't sure. To reassure myself that everything would be okay? Or to remind myself that I wasn't my mom?
If she'd gotten her way, it would be her inside this house, not me. And one thing was for darn sure – she wouldn't be staying in the guest room.
In the end, I dressed in the cheapest of the undergarments along with pink running shorts and a little gray T-shirt. And then, I dried my hair and wandered into the bedroom area.
With my cellphone in-hand, I sat on the edge of the bed to check my messages.
As I listened to one after another, I felt my stomach twist into knots. None of the messages were good, particularly the ones from Allie. They made me feel – and rightfully so – that I was the most thoughtless person in the universe.
When I finished listening, I blew out a long, shaky breath. Somehow, I had to reach her.
Chapter 21
With growing desperation, I clutched my cellphone tight against my ear and listened to the ringing on the other end. Silently, I repeated the same prayer over and over. Please answer, please answer, please answer…
But my prayers, like the phone in Allie's apartment, went unanswered as the call went eventually to voicemail.
Damn it.
I disconnected and tried her cellphone. This time, there was no ringing at all. Instead, it went straight to voicemail, like her phone was dead or turned off.
Double damn it.
I listened with growing impatience as her cheerful greeting told me to leave a message.
After the beep, I said in a rush, "Hey, it's me. Listen, I'm so sorry that I didn't call you sooner, but things are okay, so don't worry, alright?" I hesitated. "I mean, they're not a hundred percent okay, but it's nothing I can't handle. And…"
I tried to think. And what?
I took a deep breath and admitted, "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but it's not like I need you to drive through the night or anything." I forced a nervous laugh. "Not that you could, thank goodness, huh?"
I finished by saying, "Anyway, I'm really sorry for worrying you, and could you please call me when you get this? I have my cellphone back, so I'll be waiting, okay?"
With that, I disconnected the call and sank backward onto the bed.
In my mind, I could practically see Allie's reaction to my earlier call. No doubt, she'd cussed up a storm. She did that sometimes when she was upset, and the way it sounded, my call had rattled her, bigtime.
I knew this because during the last couple of hours, she'd left me at least a dozen messages, each more frantic than the last.
I couldn't blame her, especially when I considered my desperate call from the redhead's phone. To think, I'd practically begged Allie to drive all the way down here to get me. And then, like a total dumb-ass, I'd neglected to call her again when Jax returned.
I still didn't know what I was going to do about my living situation, but at least I had a few hours to figure things out. After all, it's not like I was sleeping outside or anything.
As far as the situation with Allie, there was at least one lucky break. Her car was in the shop, as she'd informed in her very first voicemail.
Thank God.
I wasn’t happy that her car needed repairs, but I was thankful for the timing. If her car weren't out of commission, she might be driving through Alabama by now.
Just to be safe, I dialed the number to the apartment and left a message there, too. It was the middle of the night, and if she was asleep – which I hoped she was – she'd get at least one of the messages first thing in the morning.
It wasn't much of a comfort, but it was the best I could do.
I stayed awake for another hour just in case she called me back. And then, when she didn't, I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes.
The mattress was pure perfection, and the sheets smelled fresh and clean. They weren't cotton. They were something else – something softer and smoother. Silk maybe? I didn't know, and I didn't have the energy to speculate.
I fell into a deep, blissful sleep, only to wake far too soon to the sounds of yelling.<
br />
And it was coming from inside the house.
Chapter 22
My eyes flew open, and I bolted upright in the bed. My gaze darted around the room as I struggled to remember where I was.
And then, in a rush, I recalled everything – the car crash, the party, and most of all, Jax.
Pale light was creeping in through the windows, lending a dreamlike quality to my surroundings. I wasn't sure what time it was, but judging from the light, it had to be very early.
From somewhere inside the house, a woman yelled, "She called me a cunt!"
Woah. That was bigtime name-calling. In my whole life, I'd never even said the word, even if I had thought it a time or two.
Jax replied, "So?"
I froze at the sound of his voice. He sounded a lot closer than I might've expected. Unless I was mistaken, the argument was taking place just down the hall or maybe in a neighboring bedroom.
After all, he hadn't yelled, and I could hear him just fine.
The woman hollered, "This wasn't part of the deal!"
Sounding almost bored, Jax replied, "What deal?"
"My employment deal, that's what! Because if you think I signed on to be verbally abused, you've got another thing coming."
"So, you're gonna quit?"
After a long pause, she said, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I would. So go on, get it over with."
"Get it over with?" she scoffed. "I can't believe you just said that. After all our history?"
"Hell, I've got more to say than that."
"Oh, really? What?"
"Later."
"What do you mean later?"
With a distinct edge, he replied, "We'll talk later."
"Why not now?" she demanded.
"Is that a serious question?"
"What, because you're in bed? Big freaking deal. It's not like I haven't seen it all before."
I frowned. His bed? That's where they were arguing?
Jax said, "Yeah, well you're not seeing it now."
In a disturbingly flirty voice, she replied, "I could if you'd ditch the blanket."
Oh, for God's sake.
"Forget it," Jax told her. "And who the fuck let you in?"
She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, this is just great. So now you're cussing me out, too? What is this? Abuse Morgan Day?"
I sucked in a breath. Morgan?
I recalled snippets of that conversation I'd overheard between Jax and his brother. Assuming that this was the same Morgan, Jax had been – in Jaden's words – fucking her.
And yet, the way it sounded now, that sort of thing was firmly in the past.
I was obnoxiously glad, even if I did feel slimy for listening in. But in my own defense, it's not like was doing it on purpose.
She was yelling, after all. And what was I supposed to do? Run out there and announce that I could hear them? I could only imagine.
I glanced toward the bathroom. Should I take a shower? That would drown out the noise, right?
That's what a decent person would do, and I always tried to be decent.
I was still debating this when Jax said, "You never answered my question."
"What question?"
"Who let you in?"
"Oh, fine," she said. "If it's soooo important, it was Jaden. I caught him on the way out."
Jax replied with something too low for me to catch. Still, I was able to get the gist of it because a moment later, Morgan said, "No kidding. The guy's a total tool."
With that same edge, Jax replied, "Yeah. But he's my brother. So lay off, alright?"
"Oh, so you can insult him, but I can't?"
"Pretty much."
"I'll never get you guys."
"You're right," he said. "You won't. So stop trying. And I meant what I said."
"About what?" she asked.
"About you and me talking." His voice hardened. "Later."
She paused. "Maybe over dinner?"
"No," he said. "At the office. Eight o'clock."
"Tonight?"
"No. Tomorrow morning."
In a tone of pure temptation, she said, "We could meet for breakfast."
"Forget it."
"I don't know why you're so crabby," she said. "No one called you a cunt."
"Hey, I've been called worse," he said. "Now, shut the door on your way out, will ya?"
A moment later, I heard a slam followed by the tip-tap of heels across a hardwood floor.
Listening, I breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived. The footsteps weren't receding. They were growing louder.
Oh, crap.
My room was at the end of the hall, which made it impossible to believe that the footsteps would simply pass by and keep on going. Sure enough, I soon heard the rattle of a doorknob. My doorknob.
Sitting upright in the bed, I watched in horrified silence as the knob turned back and forth, again and again. The rattling grew louder and more ferocious, even as I heard new footsteps thundering down the hall.
They ended just outside my door. In a quiet voice, Jax demanded, "What the fuck are you doing?"
The doorknob gave a final rattle as she asked, "Why is this locked?"
"Because it is. Now, get out."
"Is someone in there?"
I was holding my breath. Yes. There was. And the someone was me.
Stupidly, I couldn’t help but wonder what Jax was wearing. What did he sleep in, anyway? Was he standing out there, naked?
No, I decided. Because if he were, Morgan surely would've commented on it by now.
Right on cue, she said, "Nice boxers."
"Screw this," he said. "Let's go."
With a smile in her voice, she replied, "Oh yeah? Where?"
"To the office. You wanna talk? Great." He definitely wasn't smiling. "Me, too."
They went back and forth a few more times before their footsteps receded down the hall. And then, I heard absolutely nothing.
Well, that was strange.
As quietly as I could, I settled myself back under the covers and stared up at the ceiling. It was pretty, with ornate trim all around the edges.
It looked expensive, just like everything else in the room. I so didn't belong here. And I'd caused Jax nothing but trouble.
On top of that, it was weird to think that I was in his house, wearing clothes that he provided, and yet, I knew nearly nothing about him.
But soon, all of that changed, courtesy of who?
My mom.
Chapter 23
It was still early, and I was huddled with my cell phone under the covers.
My mom had just asked, "Why are you whispering?"
"Because," I said, "it's early, and I don't want to wake anyone."
This was only partly true. Mostly, I had no idea who was in the house, and I dreaded the thought of yet another ugly scene.
Already, I'd double checked the bedroom door to make sure it was still locked after all that rattling.
Was I paranoid?
Definitely.
But, as Jax had said last night, better safe than sorry. Still, this made me wonder, had he known all along that something would happen?
Either he was totally psychic or even more paranoid than I was.
On the phone, my mom asked, "So, where are you, anyway?"
I couldn’t help but scoff. "Do you care?"
"Of course I care. I'm your mother."
I recalled the voicemail that she'd left for me late last night. It was one of the rudest things I'd ever heard. Sadly, it wasn't nearly as rude as the message from Tabitha, who'd called me every name in the book, including the c-word.
Funny, I hadn't realized the word was so popular.
Last night, I hadn't called either one of them back. But this morning, my mom had called me, and I'd felt compelled to answer – not out of family loyalty, but rather because a bunch of my stuff was still at her place, and I wasn't ready to give it up.
I told her,
"I’m staying with a friend."
"Oh, please," she said. "You don't have any friends."
"Gee, thanks."
"I meant here, in town. You don't know anyone."
I did now. And he was by far the most intriguing person I'd ever met. I replied, "I know some people."
"You're with him, aren't you?"
She didn't say who she meant, but it wasn't hard to guess. Looking to change the subject, I said, "Is there a reason you called?"
"Well, you are my daughter. Can't I call just to say, 'hi'?"
She never called without a reason. In fact, she seldom called at all, not unless she could benefit in some way.
I said, "Alright, what do you want?"
"Who says I want anything?"
"So, you don't?"
"No. I don't. In fact, I'm calling to give you something."
The idea was laughable. "Oh, yeah? What?"
"Some advice."
I stifled a groan. Over the years, my mom had given me plenty of advice. If I'd followed even half of it, I wouldn't be in a stranger's guest room. I'd be in some women's prison, stamping out license plates – assuming that was really a thing.
Bracing myself, I said, "Okaaaaay. What's the advice?"
"Don't leave."
This was so unexpected, I almost didn't know what to say. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You want me to keep living with you?"
"With me?" She laughed. "Sorry. That's not gonna happen."
I muttered, "Well that's nice."
"Oh, don't be insulted," she said. "We both know it wasn't working out."
She was right. It wasn't, especially last night when she tried to hook me up with her meal ticket. Still, her breezy dismissal hurt to hear.
How pathetic was that?
Now, I couldn’t help but sigh. "I've just gotta ask, why'd you beg me to come down here in the first place?"
"I wasn't begging."
"You were, too," I said. "You were crying and everything."
Now, it was her turn to sigh. "It was just one of those days. You know how it goes."
I wanted to kick myself. Like a dumb-ass, I'd moved ten hours south just because my mom was having "one of those days”.
From experience, I knew exactly what kind of day she meant. "Let me guess. Dominic was gonna kick you out."
One Good Crash Page 9