Seventeen

Jay

Nevada was an ugly state. Dry, hot, and barren. Miles and miles of desert and red rock laid out in front of them. On all sides, it was sand and cactus. No water. No ocean. Just desert. Jay didn’t like the desert, and he especially didn’t like the heat. He enjoyed the rain. He enjoyed the snow. He did not enjoy Goddamn Nevada.

“I couldn’t imagine living in a place like this,” Addy mused, staring out the window. “It’s so…” she hesitated, searching for the right word.

“Ugly?” he offered.

He was taken by surprise when she smiled. “Yeah. Ugly.”

She rested her head against the window with a sigh, closing her eyes. The sun was coming in through the windshield, masking her face and skin with light. Her hair shimmered when she moved, and Jay had a sudden desire to lean over and touch it. Some of the color had returned to her face, and she was no longer so pale and sick-looking. She looked almost vibrant—happy.

“I don’t know about you, but this heat is making me thirsty,” Jay said. He looked over at her, gauging her reaction. “How ’bout a drink?”

Addy looked up at him, surprised. “Um. Sure.”

“Mesquite is just up ahead. We can stay there tonight and take off in the morning. Does that work?” He found that nothing satisfied him more than making her happy, even if it was with something as simple as a drink. She had a beautiful smile, and he longed to see it. When she smiled, his world lit up, and he knew that she had no fucking idea the effect she was having on him.

“Does it matter?” she asked, frowning at him. “You haven’t asked my opinion yet.”

“Well,” he said. “I am now.”

She was quiet as she pondered this as if she were searching for some underlying cruel joke—a hidden agenda, maybe. Finally, she said, “Yes. It sounds fine.”

“Good.” Jay stared at the road in front of them, one hand resting on top of the yellow dog’s head. “You thirsty, dude?” he asked. “I bet you’re thirsty as hell, huh?”

The dog’s head lifted at the sound of his voice, and his ears cocked forward.

“Dude?” Addy repeated. “Is that what you ended up naming him?”

“I haven’t named him yet,” Jay said. “This should be a mutual decision.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking less than enthused over the prospect of naming their four-legged companion.

“How about Rover?” she said.

Jay grimaced. “Dear Jesus, woman.”

“Well, I don’t know! God!” she flung her hands in the air, already looking overwhelmed. “He’s a damn dog, Jay.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jay said to the mutt. “She’s just cranky.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

Jay frowned, wracking his brain. Ahead of them on the road, a mileage sign popped into view. “I know,” he said. “How ‘bout Vegas?”

“Vegas?” Addy repeated doubtfully. “Like Las Vegas?”

“No,” Jay said. “Like Vegas.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It is not! It’s better than Rover.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head at him, turning away with a pointed look, her gaze out the window. On the radio, a familiar song came on, and Jay leaned down to turn it up. It was a song he had grown up with; a song his mother had played for him and Ashley on long road trips. Somewhere deep inside of him, a black hole of buried emotions arose suddenly as he tapped his fingers to the melody, nodding his head to the music. Addy was staring silently out the window, still, pouting, and Vegas had retreated to his spot on the seat in the back.

“When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you—” He saw Addy look over at him, eyebrows arched, and he caught her gaze with a smile. “When I go out, yeah, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you—”

“If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.” Addy finished.

Jay met her gaze again, feeling a soft flutter in his heart as he watched her sing. She smiled, a tiny dimple appearing on her right cheek. She was cute when she smiled. She had a great smile. After the news of Ryan had battered her down to near death, and the miles had passed far behind them, she was opening again, and that made him soar with pleasure. When she was upset, he found that it affected him as much as it did her. When she was okay—he was okay.

When they were okay, the world was okay.

Jay turned back to face the road, unable to keep the grin off his face. It was such a bizarre situation they were in, and yet it felt so normal and so right as if every moment in his life had been leading him up to this exact moment in time.

“But I would walk five hundred miles—”

“And I would walk five hundred more—”

“Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles and falls down at your door.”

The motel room wasn’t glitzy, per usual, but it got the job done.

It was warm in Mesquite, so different from the rain in Washington, and Addy allowed the sun to flood her skin as they grabbed their things from the car and checked in. The sun was setting, painting the sky with an array of pastels. The purple and blue colors above embraced her in a moment of perfect contentment.

Despite the situation, despite her mood, despite everything going on in her life, Addy stopped in the parking lot, watching the sunset in the distance. She took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill her lungs. It was the first time she felt at peace in so long. Even with Ryan—even before Ryan—her life had been in shambles, a puzzle waiting to be put together, only half done and pushed to the side, forgotten. She had settled for what she thought she deserved—a cheating, abusive fiancé, and a bleak, boring life. But now—now, standing in the parking lot of a Nevada hotel, looking up at the brilliant, painted sky with Jay beside her, she felt wonderful.

“Is that a casino?” she asked, squinting across the parking lot. Jay laughed, stopping to wait for her, but the yellow dog—dreadfully named Vegas—tugged anxiously at the homemade leash Jay had thrown together. It dawned on Addy how much she enjoyed his laugh when he wasn’t mocking her. It was a nice laugh. She liked hearing it.

“Welcome to Nevada,” he said. He picked up her bag of clothes and slung it over his shoulder, unlocking the door for them. It was chilled in the room, much more like home with the AC running. Addy kicked off her shoes and claimed one of the queen beds, realizing how bizarre it was that she was falling into this routine. She didn’t even bother questioning it anymore.

“I’m going to run to that gas station across the road,” Jay said. He dropped his bag to the floor and shrugged off his jacket. Under the T-shirt, his muscles rippled and tensed, and she could see the white shirt cling to his body where he was sweating in the heat. “Do you want anything?”

“No. I’m okay.” Addy watched as he gathered some change and walked out the door. She stared after him for a moment, admiring the way his ass looked in those jeans. She could hear people laughing outside; listened to the cars on the road near their room. At her feet, Vegas stared at her with big, chocolate brown eyes, begging for a scratch behind the ear. He scooted between her knees and rested his slobbery mouth on her knee, whimpering quietly.

Outside, there was more laughter. Joy. A girl shrieked playfully, yelling something indistinct at her lover. Addy thought of home, wondered if she should call Abby and tell her she was okay. Could she do that? Were the phones bugged? As Addy stared at the phone on the nightstand, debating, lyrics played in her head.

When I’m dreaming, well I know I’m gonna dream, I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you…

Jay tossed a wad of cash onto the counter and waved a half-hearted goodbye to the gas station attendant. He gathered up the six-pack of Bud and the flowers he’d found for Addy and made his way back over to the motel. Yes, he was giving her another out. If she were smart, she would be gone. Long gone. Would she report him? Probably. She should. He had hurt her, and he had done it more than once. Why did he assume she would still be there when he got back? Was he an idiot? He couldn’t let her grow on him. That was unfair. It was unfair to both of them, especially to her.

Addy had once been his prisoner, and yet, recently—it didn’t feel like it. Seeing her smile, listening to her sing, even watching her cry had started a fire in him—had lit up emotions he hadn’t even known he’d had. He’d had some girlfriends in his life, quite a few one-night stands, and now, as he thought about it, he realized one dreadful thing: no one had made him feel the way Addy had in the last few days. No one had made him think, made him feel like she did—no one had touched his soul. But how could he expect her to feel the same way? He couldn’t expect that. She was probably just playing him; looking for a way out.

Balancing the beers and bouquet under one arm, Jay pushed open the door and went inside, setting the case of beer down on the edge of the bed. He looked around. The room was empty except for his pal Vegas, who was curled up on one of the two beds. He barely lifted his head as Jay stepped into the room. Some unwarranted feeling of betrayal fell over him. He had no right; no right to feel so scorned. A part of him had known this was coming, and he had to let it go. She would be better off without him.

He would be better off without her, too; even if it hurt. No, it didn’t just hurt—it was tearing him up inside, and it was fucking painful. But, yes, this was best for both of them.

He popped the cap off one of the beers and took a sip, letting the bubbles tickle his tongue. He figured he should load up his things and go, hopefully before the police got there. Maybe he’d make it to Las Vegas tonight before it got dark. Once there, he’d finally be able to abandon the car. It was Vegas, after all—the city, not the dog. He would blend in there among the rest of the freaks and criminals. He was still determined to do what he’d set out to do—with or without Addy Harding. He had planned to do it without her, to begin with, and now all that had happened is that he was back on track. No more distractions.

No more Addy.

He picked up the bouquet of roses and tossed them into the trash bin near the TV. Then, still holding his beer, he gathered what he needed and dropped them into his bag. He thought he was smarter than that. He had been certain he wouldn’t let emotions get in the way. She was just a girl. Just a stupid, naïve, pain-in-the-ass—

“What are you doing?” Startled, Jay spun toward the bathroom door, spilling his beer in the process. Foam poured over the top, running down his shirt and onto the floor. He set it down on the TV stand, shaking the droplets of booze from his fingers. Addy was standing in front of him, dressed in Levi’s and a tank top, drying her brown hair between the folds of a towel. On her chest, where the top didn’t cover her skin, she was still damp with droplets of water. At first, he didn’t know what to say. He’d expected her to be long gone. And yet, here she was, standing in front of him. Still here.

And she was smiling.

“I thought you’d left,” he said. It was all he could think of to say as she dropped the towel onto the floor and ran her fingers through her hair. Then she crossed the room, peering into the waste bin. She reached in and pulled the bouquet out.

“Who are these for?”

“Uh. I—” The words he couldn’t say felt heavy on his tongue. He picked up the bottle of beer and took a swig, wishing it was a flask of whiskey instead. Some liquid courage would serve him well right about now. He turned away from her. “You, I guess.”

She said nothing, only put her nose in the buds and smelled the flowers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jay sat down on the bed and watched her, taken by the way she moved across the room, the way her hips sashayed, and her wet hair clung to her cheeks.

“Are you going to offer me a beer?”

Before he could respond, Addy leaned over him and reached for a Bud. She smelled only of hotel shampoo and soap, but it caught him off guard, anyway. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to reach up and touch her skin. As she straightened up, he caught sight of her cleavage peeking through the top.

“Christ.” He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the bottle out of her hand as he did so. Addy stared at him, taken aback.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jay stared at her, eying her up and down, and then lifted the bottle in his hand and pointed it at her. “Why are you still here? Why haven’t you left?”

He watched her pop the cap off her beer and take a drink. She looked down at her hands, and her shoulders rose and fell slightly.

“I don’t know, Jay. I don’t have an answer for you.”

“Bullshit.” He set his beer down again, feeling irritation boil in his chest. “I gave you an out, Addy. I gave you an out, and you didn’t take it.” He crossed the room in a split second, taking her face in his hands. She met his eyes, looking almost fearful. “Why didn’t you leave?”

He followed her gaze to the floor. A tear appeared in the corner of one eye, and she tried to pull her head away. He wanted to resist at first, but then thought better of it and dropped his hand to his side.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I’m still here, Jay.” Her hands were trembling. She sat down on the edge of one of the beds, cradling the beer between her legs. Then she looked up, meeting his eyes once more. He could see the pain in her expression.

“I hoped you would have an answer for that.”

* * *

She was three beers in by the time she finally felt the buzz go to her head. It was an incredible feeling; one of euphoria and relaxation, a feeling she had not felt for days. Weeks. Months. She leaned back in the office chair near the desk, sipping the foam from the top of her bottle. On the bed, Jay was on his back, propped up on his elbows, a nearly empty bottle of beer cradled in one hand.

“I told you about Ryan,” she said. “Now it’s your turn to tell me something.” Her fiancé’s name was hot on her tongue, but not in a good way. It made her angry to think of him, and she hated when Ryan made her feel like that. Which, granted, was most of the time.

“I don’t have anyone,” Jay said. He, too, was buzzed, and she could see the muscles relaxing visibly under his shirt. He wasn’t as fidgety now; there was no leg tapping or smoking or running his hands through his hair. He was just—there. And, my God she was enjoying it. “I’ve never had anyone that important to me,” Jay said. “So perfect, like you thought Ryan was for you.”

“He wasn’t perfect,” Addy said. “But he was a catch. Or so I thought.” She took another drink of her beer, watching Jay’s brow furrow.

“A catch?” he repeated. “Are you talking about men or fish?”

“Don’t tell me there wasn’t someone like that in your school,” Addy said. “That flawless girl with the winning smile and picture-perfect body. A girl who was probably valedictorian.”

She took the last drink of beer and tossed the can into the mini trash can, reaching for another.

“There was, actually,” he admitted. “My sister Ashley.”

Addy watched as his eyes traveled down to the bottle of beer in his hand as if focusing intently.

Ashley, the sister he’d allegedly killed.

Or had he? He’d denied it before now, told her a story she’d wanted desperately to believe; but did she? The uncertainty was still hovering over her head, warning her not to dig herself too deeply into this mess.

Trying to ward off the sick feeling that was back, she watched him, sipping her drink, unable to avoid noticing the way his muscles tensed under the white tee. She had the sudden urge to run her hands over him, to brush her fingers through his hair, to feel the muscles tense under her touch.

Jay stood a moment later and went to the sink, filling his palm with water before he ran it through his hair. She watched this, mesmerized, as droplets fell down his face and onto his shirt. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him, and it made her sick to think that she was noticing things like that. Her attraction toward him was wrong. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t like him. She should have taken her chance to leave earlier when he’d left her there alone. She could be on her way home and Jay would be behind bars—where he belonged.

But was that the truth? Was that where he belonged? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know.

Fighting with the demons of emotion that gripped her, Addy sat up. If she were going to be here, with him, she would make the best of it.

“I don’t know if this beer will do,” she said. She stood up, swishing the beer around in the bottle. “I’m more of a tequila and lime kind of girl if you catch my drift.”

Jay looked over at her, dabbing the moisture from his face with a hand towel.

“You’re awfully outgoing when you’re buzzed,” he observed. “I feel like tonight is the first time you haven’t wanted to shoot me in the face since I’ve known you.”

“Outgoing?” She smiled. “Ryan hates it when I drink. He says I get—flirty.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“To him it is. Apparently, he’s the only one allowed to screw around. Not that it fucking matters anymore.” Addy set the bottle down on the desk and shoved her hands in her pockets. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before her temper got the best of her. She paused, refusing to let thoughts of Ryan destroy her night. “I bet that the casino across the parking lot has a bar.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jay said. He turned back to the mirror, running his hands through his hair. She had the sudden urge to do the same but to him. “Someone could recognize us.”

“It’s a casino, Jay,” she said. She took a step back before she did anything stupid. “The people there have more pressing matters than to watch out for me and you. Like, you know, losing money and getting drunk.” She reached up to run a hand through her hair, shaking it out. It smelled good; freshly washed.

Jay straightened up and tossed the damp rag onto the counter. His eyes were on her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt attractive. Sexy.

“Come on,” Addy said. She pushed her hair away from her face and smiled at him. “Buy the lady a drink.”