“He’s about to go have angry sex with the hot blonde,” Nic informed them.
“What are you and Kitty Cat fighting about now?” Javi’s tone was as exasperated as Ryder felt.
His eyes drifted back to the bar where little miss I belong to no one, was pouring three shots into one cup. “Same shit,” Ry grunted, tipping his chin in her direction. “I’m all in and she’s afraid of commitment.”
“Dude, I’m afraid of commitment. Kitty Cat is a straight fucking savage.”
“Yeah, but he’s gotta take it easy on her. You’re too intense. Not everyone is ready for marriage after two months,” CT said, because apparently it was, give Ryder unsolicited advice day.
“I said we’re good,” Ry grunted.
“Do you believe that shit?” CT asked looking to Javi.
“Nope.”
CT then turned to Nic, “What about you?”
Dominic’s answer, while more diplomatic, was also a negative. “It did seem a bit tense when I walked up.”
“Since when do you fuckers give relationship advice?”
“Don’t get all pissy, dude,” CT said, punching Ryder in the shoulder. “All I’m saying is cut the girl some slack.”
“No, she’s got to give a little too. Ry’s a good guy and she’s playing mind games with him.”
“Do you assholes just sit around and talk about my love life?”
“Love?” CT raised a brow. “See it’s that shit that makes Kitty Cat think you’re a fucking psycho.”
“Fuck you. And you,” he growled pointing at his friends. “Nic, thanks for the invite, but I’m out.”
Ryder turned and stomped his way toward the exit. They could kiss his ass. His and Jamie’s shit might be messy and imperfect, but it was theirs and no one else’s. He’d take real and complicated with Kitty Cat over superficial and easy with anyone else.
Shouldering his way out the door and into the Seattle night, Ryder closed his eyes. The wind felt good against his face and the cool air calmed the fire in his belly.
Jamie evoked emotions he spent his life burying under the easy-going, sensitive façade. It was easier to be that Ryder than the Ryder he was born to be. Erratic. Volatile. Angry.
She was a wild cat, one who couldn’t be tamed. It wasn’t that he wanted to change her. He liked her fucked up, because even with the sadness, she persisted.
“Hey,” he heard the familiar voice calling from the distance. Turning in the direction of the sound he spotted Kitty Cat standing there, a plastic cup clutched in her palm and a frown etched on her beautiful face. Her sad, droopy, eyes were like a healing balm to his rage. “Why the long face, Kitty Cat?” he asked as he approached.
Jamie studied him for a beat, searching, for what, he didn’t know.
“Why did you tell Nic I was your girlfriend?” Accusation pierced her tone.
“Because you are,” he answered simply. It was a truth she needed to accept. They weren’t casual. This wasn’t for fun. It was difficult. Jamie was a pain in Ryder’s ass most days, but she was also the other half of him. The ice to his fire. It was the stuff of tragedies. A soul burning, slightly toxic, and totally unhealthy kind of obsession. It was the exact thing he swore off, but with Kitty Cat, Ryder found himself grasping at whatever scraps she threw his way.
“When did that happen?” she asked. It wasn’t her usual brand of smartassness. She was being sincere. She was falling just as hard as he was. The fundamental difference was that Jamie wanted to catch herself.
“Does it matter?” he asked, pulling her to him by the lapels of her leather jacket.
“Yes, it matters. I never wanted this.” Her voice was haunted. Like he did this to her. Like he was the monster.
“Why can’t you just let me in. This could be easy, and fun. We could be happy, but you won’t let me in.” His grip on her tightened. The wrath bubbling and fizzling in his stomach.
A thousand emotions played out on Jamie’s features: fear, self-loathing, and frustration, chief among them. For a brief moment, he could see the broken bits of her soul. They were jagged, sharp little pieces that stabbed at something deep inside his brain. His compulsive need to protect. But they vanished just as quickly as they came. Her mask was back in place. She was shutting down and shutting him out.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?
“Why do you shut down every time I start talking about anything deeper than the fucking weather?” he spit. Rage colored his vision, and his world went red. The beast that laid dormant inside him was rearing its ugly head. This was what Ryder was afraid of, this reaction. It was his worst nightmare, but beneath the anger was shame. Shame that took the form of his ten-year-old self. It screamed for him to stop, to breathe, but he couldn’t. Leaning in, inches from her face, Ryder seethed, ”Do you like this? Seeing me like this? Is it a game? How far can I push him until he snaps? Well, guess what? You’re fucking winning. I give up, okay?”
Pushing him back, Jamie sneered, “I don’t know what you want from me. The first night we met you fucked me and another girl in the back of a bar. What did you think this was?”
She brushed past him, but he caught her elbow before she could get far. “Fuck that Jamie. You can’t throw that shit in my face now. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t want that! You did!”
“I didn’t hold a gun to your head.”
“That’s not fair.”
“But it is life.”
The two of them stood, toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose. “You don’t always have to be a bitch. You know that, don’t you?”
Jamie stiffened at the harshness of his words. “And you don’t always have to be a possessive asshole.”
“You know what James, I’m not doing this with you,” Ry grunted. He took a step back, and then another before turning and heading back into the gallery. It was a lie. Ryder was willing to love her through anything. She was dancing with demons, but he was powerless to help if she refused to tell him what he was up against.
Cinnamon filled the air, rousing Jamie from a merlot induced slumber. The unmistakable whizzing and whirling of her KitchenAid Stand Mixer forced her out of bed for the first time in two days. She stood, then instantly regretted it. “Too fast,” she groaned, plopping back down on the bed. Empty wine bottles were strewn on her night table, and her leather jacket laid discarded on the floor. It had been there since the art show, her pièce de résistance in self-destruction.
There were times when Jamie doubted she was a normal person. One with a heart, feelings, and emotions. She wasn’t a sociopath, she felt remorse, after the fact, but in the moment, she couldn’t help herself. Her brain was wired wrong. She couldn’t accept that Ryder liked her, not just having sex with her, or the idea of her, but the real, broken, spiral mode Jamie.
The last month with Ryder was nice. She grew to enjoy the time she spent with him in his world. She knew she would fuck it up. Jamie always fucked it up, but a tiny piece of her hoped it would last longer, maybe even forever.
Jamie tried standing again, this time slowly. She pulled the hood up on her green footless onesie, not bothering to look in the mirror. No need to confirm what she already knew. She hadn’t showered or left the bed for anything, other than to pee or open the door for the Postmates delivery person, in the last couple of days. She even called in sick to work, something she only ever did once, last fall.
Jamie stumbled into the kitchen to find Kensie with her face buried in one of their cookbooks. “Good morning,” Jamie grunted. She opened the cabinet and pulled down a coffee mug, filling it with the remains of the half-drunken bottle of wine abandoned on the counter.
“There’s coffee,” Kensie said, pointing to the pot.
Coffee was for people with plans and goals and motivation. Jamie had none of those things. So instead, she ignored the inference and steered the subject to safer waters. “Where’s Trey?” she asked, sipping from the mug of wine.
Kensie eyed her friend, her lips puckered
like she was dying to protest, but knew to tread lightly. “At his place.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re here?” Since the beginning of their relationship Kensie and Trey had spent every night together. An unwanted pang ran through her chest. She had that with Ryder. She used to think it was obsessive, his need to be in almost constant contact with her, but now after forty-eight hours of radio silence, she missed it. The phone calls and text messages were what got her through those long hours at the station. As much as it killed her to admit it, she finally understood why Ken was always with her boyfriend.
Trey was still a dick though.
Kensie looked up from the cookbook, giving Jamie her best, don’t be a smartass look. “I thought we could hang out today, just you and me.”
“Rain check,” Jamie snorted. She topped her coffee mug off with the rest of the wine in the bottle and turned to leave. She loved Kensie, but she was giving herself one more day to mope. Whatever little intervention her friend had planned would have to wait until Jamie was less hungover and more drunk.
“Jamie,” Kensie whispered, “are we okay?”
Jamie, not Jam.
Shit.
Jamie wasn’t emotionally stable enough for this conversation. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she asked cautiously, her back to her friend.
“I know I’ve been pretty shitty in the best friend department lately—”
“You think.”
“—but so have you,” Ken added coming around to face her.
“How would you know? You’re never here.” Jamie was deflecting. It was a bitch move but she was on a roll this weekend. Why stop now?
“I didn’t realize how bad it got until the other day. I’m sorry, but I’m here now.” Everything in her brown eyes read sincere. Kensington Grace Roth could be clueless and at times, immature, but she was a loyal friend, and the only person who was there when it happened.
“Ken, I’ve had a tough few days and I just want to wallow.” Jamie wasn’t ready to talk about her latest fuck-up in the string of near constant fuck-ups that was her life. She wanted to drink wine, binge watch Friends, and gorge herself on whatever it was Kensie was baking.
“I’ll let you wallow, for now,” Kensie said, switching off the mixer. There was flour everywhere, and broken egg shells and apple peels discarded in the sink. Kensington was a decent cook, but baking wasn’t her thing. If she was home, and awake, and baking, Jamie didn’t stand a chance. “But look at you. You’re a mess, and you smell bad—like really bad.” She sniffed Jamie’s blonde hair, lifting a greasy, matted strand with her finger. “When’s the last time you washed this?”
Jamie swatted Kensie’s hand away. Months of being ignored for her douchebag boyfriend, and she chooses now to pay attention?
“I just…work is kicking my ass.”
“Work?”
“Yes, Sarah’s going to be out for another month and my workload has doubled,” Jamie rambled around her mug.
“So, we lie to each other now?”
Jamie sighed, nibbling on her tattooed finger. “What do you want from me Kensington?”
“The truth, for starters. Did something happen with your parents?” She was doubling down. Nothing good could come from this.
“No.”
Kensie stopped, her too big brown eyes widened. “Jam,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, “Is it about last fall?”
“No, Jesus,” Jamie shrieked. It was time to come clean. She was a bitch, but she wasn’t a big enough bitch to let her best friend think she’d fallen back into the depth of depression just to keep the Ryder secret. “It’s a guy, okay. Just a guy. I’ve turned into a cliché, moping around in pj’s and pining over a fucking guy.”
Kensie’s lips twitched, “All this angst is over a guy?”
“I hate you,” Jamie groaned.
“James Michele Manning is sad about a penis? I never thought I’d see the day.”
Jamie narrowed her eyes at her friend, doing her best to suppress her grin. “He’s…different. Amazing, and gorgeous, and kind, and talented.”
Holy shit she belonged in a Kate Hudson movie.
“JAM!” Kensie screamed, jumping up and down. “This needs something stronger than wine.” She ran to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of tequila, grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet and practically dragged Jamie to the couch, forgetting all about whatever it was she was mixing in the mixer.
“Okay, tell me everything.” Kensie said after they each took a shot.
“There’s nothing to tell. We met and had sex. I Jamie’d it up, and now he hates me.”
“Did he say he hates you or did you assume he hates you so that you had an out?” Kensie asked.
Sometimes Jamie loved having a friend like Kensie, one who knew her well enough to know her quirks. One that wasn’t afraid to call her on her bullshit. This was not one of those times.
“He called me a bitch and walked away. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“He called you a bitch? Do you want me to kick his ass?”
Jamie laughed, then frowned, then shook her head. “No, I deserved it. I was being a bitch.” Bitch wasn’t even the right word. She was like the angel of death, roaming the earth, snuffing out joy and happiness wherever she went.
“Did you apologize?” Jamie took a large drink of her wine, avoiding Kensington’s gaze. “Jam, no wonder he hasn’t called you. Here.” Kensie jumped up from her spot on the couch. She jogged the distance to Jamie’s room and was back within seconds. “Text him,” she demanded, thrusting her cell in her face.
“And say what?” Jamie held the phone like it might explode. Would he even respond? He shouldn’t. If he knew what was good for him, he’d have blocked her number. Then again, can you block numbers on a flip phone?
“Uh, how about I’m sorry?” Kensie snarked.
Jamie rolled her eyes, wondering where the sweet, demure, little Kensington she pretended to be around Trey went. “It’s better this way. I’m sure I’ll just do something else irrational. Why bring him into my shit?”
Kensie looked at Jamie with sadness in her eyes. Pity wasn’t what Jamie was going for, but the angel of death had struck again. Their eyes met, green to brown. Words weren’t needed when the bond was as deep as theirs.
It’s not your fault.
I deserve this suffering.
You deserve to be happy and if this guy makes you happy, then fuck your pride and say sorry.
Jamie’s phone rang, interrupting the unspoken conversation. “Hello,” she answered cautiously, the number unrecognizable.
“Jamie, hi, it’s Jared, from Easter.”
“Oh, Jared, hi,” Jamie said, looking at Kensie. She deleted his number after Ryder fucked her on the hood of her Rover, figuring it best to leave well enough alone. Jared was the last person she was expecting to hear from, but he was probably the best thing that could happen. She’d caused enough destruction in Ryder’s life.
“Is that him?” Kensie mouthed.
“I was wondering if you wanted to join me for dinner? I know a great Italian place downtown.”
“Dinner?” she asked, looking to her roommate.
“Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.” The giddy brunette chanted, raising to her knees. It was ridiculous, seeing her all worked up over a phone call. Her excitement was beginning to permeate Jamie’s two-day layer of grime and sadness.
“Sure,” Jamie agreed. A reluctant smile tugging at her lips. She was a complete asshole for lying to her friend, but honesty was an illusion. Kensie was happy to be able to help her and Jamie had a reason to shower.
“Should I pick you up or would you like to meet there?”
This night would require lots of alcohol, so she opted for the former. “Pick me up at seven. I’ll text you my address.”
“Sounds great, see you then,” he said, before ending the call.
Biting down on her tattooed finger, Jamie silently recited her affirmation.
Be thankful.
Be mindful.
Be kind.
“OMG,” Kensie squealed, grabbing Jamie by the hand and pulling her up off the couch. “Let’s go. We only have eight hours to make you presentable.”
“Now who’s the bitch?” Jamie grumbled, following behind her friend.
Jamie made her way downstairs at seven sharp. Kensie had ensured she was showered, shaved, and that her hair no longer reeked. She even forced her into a dress, an emerald green off the shoulder number that stopped just below her knees. Kensie said it was Gucci and perfect for a romantic Italian dinner.
Ignoring the dull ache in her chest, Jamie stepped off the elevator and out into the lobby. Her legs pushed her forward, powered by her brain and its eagerness to erase the memory of Ryder. Mere seconds after passing the reception desk, Jamie spotted the black on black Tesla parked in front of her building. Jared was standing there, leaning against his pretentious car, smiling at her with a predatory gaze.
Each step felt less like freedom and more like captivity, but she brushed off the ominous feeling, nodding her head at the doorman as she passed.
“Hey,” she greeted. Her voice was soft, breathy. She was fucking flirting with the guy because when the going got tough, Jamie pulled on her party girl mask and pretended like nothing affected her.
In reality, she hated herself, for two hours ago, and for two days ago. What was she doing getting into this man’s car while the man she really wanted to be with was probably home, burning the stuff he insisted she keep at his place?
“You look gorgeous, although you always do,” Jared said, his hand at the small of her back. Opening the door, he guided her into the passenger’s seat. Jamie acknowledged the gesture with a plastic smile as he trotted around to the driver’s side.
Breathe James, just breathe.
She didn’t get out of bed and wash her hair to continue her pity party. Jamie was determined to have a good time, even if it killed her. “This is only the second time you’ve ever seen me.”
“In person, maybe,” Jared said putting the Tesla in drive, “but I watch you most nights on the six o’clock news.”
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 13