The Exception(51)

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

I looked away to try to prevent the tears from falling, but my eyes landed on Max. He was standing in the doorway, his hands in his back pockets, Saints hat backwards on his head. His stance may have been casual, but his eyes were unrelenting, accessing the situation in a way that only he could.

“Drop it.” I turned back to Kari, my eyes hard. “I’m just going to go to bed, okay?”

“Jada,” Kari said, reaching out to pull me in close.

As soon as her fingers touched my arm, I jumped back in pain and covered my arm with my other hand.

“Jada?”

I tried to turn away, but Kari pulled up the sleeve of my shirt before I could take a step.

“Jada!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand. “What happened to you?!”

“Nothing.” I brushed her off, pulling the sleeve down over the purple marks that were starting to appear. “Just leave it be.”

“I will do no such thing! What happened?”

Max quickly covered the distance between us and picked up my arm gently. There was no point in fighting him so I just let him look, closing my eyes, knowing that things were about to get real.

I hadn’t had time to process what had happened. I didn’t know whether to call the police, to go to the doctor, or to just go to bed and cry. But this was about to get ugly with or without my consent.

“I’m going to ask you this one time, Jada,” Max said, his voice eerily calm, “and you will answer me. Who did this to you?”

I pulled my arm away from him and he let it go, but his eyes forced me to stay put.

“I don’t want to go into this right now,” I said, my body starting to shake. “Just give me a few minutes to sort this in my head.”

“You can take all the time you want to sort whatever you need to. But you have about five seconds to tell me who did this.” His unyielding voice overwhelmed me. I knew he was looking out for me, but I just needed a damn minute.

I turned, frustrated, and walked across the kitchen with every intention of grabbing my purse off the island and going to my room and locking the door.

I really need to make getting my own apartment a priority.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder and then picked up my phone. I looked at the screen and gasped, a chill tearing through every fiber of my being.

Simon: I owe you one.

I stared at the message, my mouth dry. Tears sprang to my eye with a renewed urgency, filling my lids before spilling down my cheeks.

Max grabbed my phone from my hand.

“Give that back to me!” I shrieked, reaching up to take it away. Blood was pounding through my ears as I became fully aware that this was no longer my secret. “Max! Give it to me!”

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he said, shooting me an angry look as he sat my phone on the counter. “I reckon shit is about to hit the fan.”



CANE

There was no sense in trying to get any work done.

I slammed my pencil on the drawings, turning a circle in my chair.

I had brought a bid home to work on over the weekend, hoping that it would keep my mind occupied, but it wasn’t working. It hadn’t worked all day. Here it was, after ten on a Saturday night, and I was no better than I was twelve hours earlier.

All I could see was her face as she watched me walked out of that fucking bar and all I could hear was the sound of being sent to voicemail a few hours earlier.

She actually liked my fucked up self.

Liked. Past tense. Dumbass.

I got up and walked to the window. I rested my head against the cool glass, wishing I could just redo the whole night before. I expected her to be a little pissed at me when I got there, but I should have stayed calm. And I sure as shit shouldn’t have walked out with that chick.

That was low. Even for me.

My phone buzzing on my desk broke my thoughts. I turned and watched it bounce around.

Maybe it’ll bounce off the desk and smash into pieces.

I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging it roughly. I needed to feel something other than whatever this feeling was.

Is this what guilt feels like? Don’t you need a conscience to feel that?

I need to hit the bag for a while. Work this shit out of my system.

I headed back to the desk when the phone started ringing again. I saw it was Max.

“What’s up?”

“We have a problem,” Max bit out angrily.

For fuck’s sake. The last thing I wanted to deal on a Saturday night was a construction issue.

I pay him to handle this shit. Let him handle it.

“Oh, do we now? What can you not take care of yourself, Max?” I instantly felt bad for being a dick, but I really just wanted to be left alone.

“Okay,” Max said, his words and their anger hitting me hard. “I just won’t tell you that Jada has fucking bruises on her arm.”