Now or Never(54)

Jay’s arm flexed around her and she closed her eyes, not ready to face him yet. When he withdrew, she wondered if he’d leave without a word. As much as it hurt, it would probably be for the best. She didn’t know what she’d say to him now, anyway.

“Em?” His whisper caressed her cheek, tickling the hair draped over her neck.

Ignoring him was childish, but she was too ashamed to look at him. Keeping her eyes sealed tight, she heard Jay sigh.

“It’s early, but I have to go to work.” Again he waited for a response, but she kept up the charade even knowing he knew it was an act. He let her. “I’ll see you later.”

Warm lips pressed against her forehead and she had to fight to hold still. Because if she moved at all—even dared to breathe—she’d grab on to him and refuse to let him go.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

There was some quiet shifting and the sound of a zipper as Jay dressed. Finally allowing her eyes to fall open when she heard the door shut behind him, she stared out the window, watching the sun as it drifted above the trees on the horizon. Jay was gone. Again. And again she’d let him go. Only this time, like the coward she was, she’d done it with her eyes closed.

But, Em didn’t want to be that anymore. She didn’t want her uncle to be right about her. She had to find a way to show him—and herself—that he was wrong. To prove that Jay was right. That she was strong. Strong enough to help him. To be what he needed. And she knew exactly what she had to do to accomplish that. The only question was, could she?

Running on pure adrenaline and the determination not to overthink it—or think about it at all—Em tossed on jeans and her favorite sweater. She was going to need the added comfort. Pulling a brush through her hair, she vaguely noted that it was getting some of its shine back, thanks most likely to Ash’s fancy shampoo and conditioner. Normally she’d be grateful, but not today. Today she had no interest in looking good. Grabbing a knit hat from the coat closet, she tugged it over her head.

Ashlyn was just emerging from what looked like hibernation, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled toward the bathroom. She ran a hand over her bed head and scowled at Em’s ready appearance.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” Snagging the keys, Em ducked out the door before Ashlyn could pepper her with more questions she didn’t have time for.

With a long drive ahead of her, Em did anything and everything not to think about her destination. If she had, she very well may have turned around and gone running back with her tail tucked between her legs. For close to four hours, she played with the radio dial, kept a mental list of license plate states, and relived her morning with Jay again, and again, and again. But when she rolled down Main Street past the post office, the pizza shop, the florist, and old Mr. Frank’s house, she couldn’t deny it anymore. She was home.





Chapter Thirty-one





Jay



“Where is she?”

Jay turned around to find Mason looking royally pissed. “Who?”

“Who the hell do you think? What did you do to Em now?”

“Nothing.” Folding a dish rag in half, he hung it over the cabinet door. “What are you—?”

“Then why is Ash calling me for a ride to work because Em took her car and disappeared hours ago?”

“Where did she go?” Willing to overlook Mason’s bullshit if it got him information faster, Jay spread his fingers across the top of the bar to avoid hitting someone.

“My guess? Away from you.” Mason stormed off, presumably to go pick up Ashlyn, leaving Jay to work out the information he’d just been given.

Jay’s nail scratched absently at the scarred surface as he tried to put the pieces together. As understandable as Mason’s guess would have been, Jay doubted that was the case. Em was stubborn if nothing else. She wouldn’t just give up and walk away from him now. That conclusion inevitably led to the hundred other more horrifying possibilities he refused to even consider.

Time is one of the few absolute constants in the world. A minute is a minute is a minute. Except when it feels like an hours. And the twenty it took Mason to get to Ashlyn’s and bring her back felt like lifetimes. Christ, could gramps drive any fucking slower?

A balding man with a pot belly and grease stains on his shirt shot Jay an irritated look before glancing pointedly at his fingers, which had begun tapping incessantly. Jay growled and turned his back on him, looking for something—anything—to distract him. The last thing he needed was to go off halfcocked without all the information. But if Mason didn’t hurry the hell up . . .