Page 68 of Like You Know
She’d brought over a clearly store-bought pie, saying she was dropping off a home-cooked meal for me while suspiciously eyeing Jet. I reassured her I was OK, and she left.
The pie was from an artisan bakery nearby, and it tasted delicious. I had it for dinner and didn’t offer Jet any. He helped himself to some anyway. Jerk.
I went to bed early, determined to avoid him, and tried to read. But I had trouble focusing on the words and sentences. My mind was racing.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom and where she might be. If she was OK. If I’d ever see her again. Then some alarmed voice in my mind would cut in with horror scenarios that included masked men barging into the house, shooting Jet dead, and taking me.
Every little sound from outside, every shift of the house, put me on high alert. I was a fucking mess inside, and I didn’t have the adrenaline crash and absolute exhaustion that had made me pass out the previous night.
A little before midnight, I gave up trying to sleep and slowly padded my way downstairs.
I didn’t want to admit to myself I was looking for Jet, but I was. I felt so alone, and he was the only other person in the house.
All the lights were out, but the telltale flicker of the TV in the front room lit up the foyer, so I headed there. This room was a bit more formal than the open-concept space at the back of the house with the kitchen. It wasn’t used as often, but it was expertly decorated in creams and royal blues. The TV—normally hidden behind built-in cabinet doors—was on with the volume down. I didn’t even register what was playing; I just headed for the couch under the window and folded myself into the corner, leaning against the armrest.
There was a whole other three-seater on the opposite side of the coffee table, and a comfy armchair, but I’d plonked myself down next to Jet. He sat reclined in the couch’s other corner, a throw blanket over his lap.
He tracked my movements carefully but didn’t try to talk to me. I was more thankful for that than he knew. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sit in silence and just be. Only not by myself.
I turned my face to the screen but didn’t even remotely pay attention to what was on it. Jet was looking at the screen too, but I could sense his focus on me.
After a beat, he sat up, draped the throw over my lap, and leaned back into his spot.
He’d changed out of his slacks and shirt and tie. The sweats and ribbed tank he had on now made his shoulders look even bigger than they were. He looked like the Jet I knew—the one I’d been falling for—in his casual clothes. It made my heart ache.
He was sitting right next to me, and I missed him so damn much.
Life was a fucking bitch sometimes.
I tried to spread the blanket so we could share it, but it was way too small. With a resigned sigh, I scooted closer and draped it over both our laps. Our legs were touching.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Neither of us really needed a blanket on such a warm night anyway. But I was still in the whole self-denial stage. The blanket made it easier to pretend I wasn’t trying to get closer to him, because it hurt to have any distance between us.
He draped one arm over the back of the couch and looked at me, still not saying anything. His expression held no judgment, no expectations. He was just ... open to whatever I needed.
Not allowing myself to think about it, I leaned sideways and settled into his side. After a beat, he gently wrapped one arm around me.
In a corny moment worthy of a Lifetime movie, we both released a small sigh, relief palpable in the sound. Why did it feel so damn good to be in his arms? He made me feel so safe. Despite all the bullshit keeping me up, I actually felt calm. He made something deep inside me, something intrinsic, believe everything would be OK.
But the practicalities of everything going on just wouldn’t let up.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked, my voice small.
He leaned back to look at me. “What do you mean?”
I started fiddling with the hem of his tank. “I don’t know. Like, what am I supposed to do now? What if Mom needs to be in the hospital for a really long time? What if they don’t find her ...” I couldn’t even go there. “I know I’ve had to learn to be really independent, but fuck. This is different, Jet. Is the house mine now? What about all the other assets? I don’t even know who our lawyer is. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he said, not a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Jet, what’s going to happen?” I asked again.
He stared me down, a million complicated things in his gaze. “I don’t know, princess,” he finally answered. “No one ever really knows what’s going to happen. Life just doesn’t work that way. But what I do know is that you won’t have to deal with it alone. You have the fiercest, most supportive friends I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt whatsoever that they’ll be ready to do whatever you need. And I know shit between us is ... uncertain right now, but I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’m absolutely sure you’re safe. Not as long as you want me around.”
“I don’t want you around,” I declared, gripping his tank in a tight fist. I appreciated what he was saying. I’d needed the reminder that I had people in my corner. It soothed some of my panic. But I didn’t want to dwell on it.
My head was all over the place—wanting to sit in silence one minute, then wanting to talk the next. Wanting him gone, then searching him out. Asking questions, then deflecting when he answered them.
“You sure about that?” Jet raised one eyebrow, glancing pointedly at where I was clutching his clothing.