Twisted(124)

“At least they won’t be hauling me off to jail for it.”

“I could walk away tomorrow and be set for years. Can you say the same?”

“I don’t want to walk away,” Jazz said, forcing out the words through her way too tight throat.

“One difference among many between you and me.” Cricket saluted her with her fork. “Cheers.”

Jazz drove back to the apartment with Cricket’s words running through her head. For so long, she’d wanted nothing more than freedom. The ability to be able to pick up and go without any nagging foster parents or the system trying to tag her whereabouts. Eventually she’d admitted the reason she wanted freedom so much was because she truly didn’t have a place to belong, so landing anywhere for long felt like the worst kind of lie. People like her were meant to go where the wind blew and the music carried them.

She’d once imagined becoming a traveling minstrel, strumming a guitar for pennies that people tossed in her case. Back then she’d been sure she could live on that kind of appreciation, hollow or not. In time, she might learn to stop needing so much, though her wants seemed simple enough. Love. Affection. A family.

Gray.

Without conscious decision, she headed straight to his room once she arrived back at the apartment. The door stood open and music played on the sound system on low, serving as a backdrop for him to strum along with. Not Oblivion. He’d chosen one of his favorite classic songs, “Wasted Time” by the Eagles. Listening to him sing along in his husky, haunting voice made her fumble for the guitar pick necklace she never took off. Touching it forged one more link with him in spite of the hesitation that bolted her feet to the floor.

She wasn’t ready to have this conversation with him. Would never be ready. But it couldn’t wait.

Once the song ended, she stepped into the doorway and tightened her grip on the chain. He sat on the bed, holding his guitar in his lap. His fingers ghosted over the strings, playing a silent melody she could hear though it had no sound.

She bit her lip, aching for him. For herself.

“You can come in.” He lifted his head and gave her a smile tinged with a sorrow she understood all too well. “This was supposed to be your room now too.”

She abandoned her hold on her necklace to start fiddling with her ring. “I wasn’t sure that offer was still stood.”

His lack of response created a chain-effect reaction in her body. Her skin prickled hot and a wave of dizziness rolled through her. But her unsettled stomach didn’t so much as pitch.

Too bad she couldn’t feel any relief through her dread.

“Come in and shut the door, okay?” He shifted to set aside his guitar, allowing her to see the suitcase tucked between the nightstand and the bed. The packed suitcase.

“That’s from the cabin, right?” Her breath quickened. “You just haven’t unpacked—”

“Come in.” He gestured with his fingers for her to keep moving forward and she stopped, unwilling to make this easy on him. If he was going to break her heart, he’d have to travel the last few feet between them to do it.

Even if she suspected all he’d have to do was look, really look, at her to make her lose her last grasp on her composure.

“No. I’m fine here.” She held her ground just inside the doorway. “W-where are you going?”

“Jazz—”

No baby this time. No sexy smile or hungry expression to let her know that he was undressing her in his mind even while he was talking about something banal. His eyes were guarded, his mouth set in a line.

“Just say your piece. Don’t sugarcoat it.” She clamped her arms over her chest and prayed for the strength to get through this. To not fall to her knees and beg him not to turn her away when they’d finally gotten so close to having everything.

It was all about timing, she’d told him once. Without it, it was impossible to keep the beat going. And theirs was always fucking wrong.

“Please, come sit next to me. Don’t make this harder than it is already.”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t it be the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through? If I’d wanted easy, I would’ve stayed with Nick.” His face closed off even more, but she couldn’t regret her thoughtless mention. Not when he was about to trash their past and their future.

“It should be easy,” he said, his voice barely audible. “That’s what I always wanted for you. You deserve a man who can take care of you and treat you right. Who will never lie to you or hurt you or put you in danger for even a second. That’s not me.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of. I don’t need it. Newsflash, Grayson Duffy, I’ve been on my own for a very long time. If I let you share my life, it’s because I wanted you there, not because I couldn’t get by without you.” She wasn’t sure of that—not at all—but she was damn fed up with people acting as if she should hide out in an ivory tower all day. “Wanna know who I had lunch with? You might know her. She’s tall and blonde and claims to have handled your penis.”