3. Hadley
3
HADLEY
“Do you know where I live?” Jace asked as he pulled his seatbelt across his body. He couldn’t buckle the seatbelt with his casted hand, so I reached over and plugged the metal piece into the receptacle, taking great care not to touch him while I did it.
“Yes.”
I knew where he lived. I’d never seen it. Never wanted to see it. Still didn’t want to see it.
I backed out of the parking space, concentrating on the road so I wouldn’t have to focus on Jason.
“Do you still fill your prescriptions at the same drug store?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted with a shrug.
We pulled through the drive-through at the local drug store, and they did take the prescriptions, assuring me that he still gets his meds there, so I left them with a plan to come back and pick them up in thirty minutes.
He rode along quietly as we drove toward his apartment building, pointing out stores and buildings that weren’t there five years ago. “That’s new,” he said as he saw a fast-food restaurant on the corner.
“Yes.”
“Do I like it?”
“I have no idea,” I said with a huff.
He rode quietly. I parked outside his high-rise building, and he leaned forward and looked up. Way up. “I live here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Come inside with me?” he asked.
“I’d rather not.” I didn’t even unbuckle.
“I don’t know where to go.”
I pointed toward the front door. “I’d go in there.”
He blew out a breath. “Do I have a key?” He patted his pockets, found a lump, and pulled a ring of keys from the depths. “I guess I do.”
I sucked in a breath when I realized he had a lock of braided hair attached to his keyring. It was kept safe in a clear plastic bubble.
He must have seen the look on my face because he asked, “What?” He looked at his keys, studying them. He rubbed the edge of the bubble between the tip of his finger and his thumb. “Is this your hair?”
I cleared the lump from my throat. “No, it’s not mine,” I croaked out.
“Then whose is it?” He looked confused. “It looks like yours.”
He didn’t remember, and I was somewhat envious of that fact.
I unlocked my seatbelt because I would do almost anything to escape this conversation. “Let’s go,” I said.
He got out and stared at the building. “I don’t like this place,” he said.
I opened the door and walked through it.
“Mr. Jenkins!” the doorman sang out. “So glad you’re home!” He nodded his head at me. “Ma’am,” he said kindly.
Jason jerked a thumb toward me. “This is Mrs. Jenkins,” he said, and he grinned at me.
The man blanched.
“Jason,” I warned.
“It’s nice to meet you,” the man said, his face open and kind. And curious. So curious.
“Can you remind me which apartment is mine?” Jason asked patiently.
His aging brow crinkled. “That’d be eighteen twenty-four,” he replied. “The very top.”
“The top?”
“Yes, sir, the very best for you.” His brow furrowed. “I should probably call upstairs,” he suddenly said.
Jason waved a hand in the air. “No need. We’re on our way there no matter what.”
“Are you sure, sir?” he asked.
“Positive.” Jason patted the desk. “Thank you.”
The man smiled and gave him half a nod. “You’re quite welcome.”
We went up the elevator in silence. “Why did I choose this place?” Jason asked.
“I have no idea,” I said quietly. If I had to guess, it was because it was the best. The best view. The best service. The very best of everything. Exactly what Jason wanted.
We stopped at eighteen twenty-four, and he hesitated. “What do you think it looks like?”
Probably like desperate escapism. “It looks like an apartment. A very expensive one.” I shifted in my heels because my feet were killing me.
Jason looked down at my feet. “Why are you wearing heels? You hate heels.” He stuck his key in the lock and gave it a gentle twist.
“I had court today,” I told him.
He stopped short. So short that I ran into his back. “You passed the bar?” he asked, as a broad smile spread across his face. “You got your license?”
I nodded as I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, and he looked like he meant it. “Did I graduate, too?” he asked.
“You did.”
“Do I work?”
“Yes.” He slowly opened the door and stuck his head in, looking around like he had never seen the place before. I guess that was probably how it felt.
Suddenly, a laugh rang out from inside the apartment. It was actually more than a laugh. It was a giggle—a loud one. A woman raced across the living room wearing nothing but a towel, and her damp hair was tousled and wild. Behind her, a man ran from the bedroom toward her. And they both stopped because he was wearing even less than her. He was wearing nothing at all. Not a stitch of clothing. He froze.
“Jason,” he said. He looked at the woman and then back at Jason. And suddenly, I knew who she was. I knew exactly who she was. She tugged the towel higher on her chest and dragged the bottom lower at the same time. The man with her picked up a throw pillow to hide his junk.
“Quinn,” I said with a nod.
“Um,” she began. Then she smiled at Jason. “Hi, Jason,” she said. She looked from the man to Jason and back. “I didn’t know you’d be coming home.”
Well, that much was obvious.
Jason pointed to the plush carpet under his feet. “Do you live here?”
“What?” She looked at me, confusion marring her beautifully plucked brows. “What’s he talking about?”
“He got a bump on the head,” I explained. “His memory is a little fuzzy.” I took a deep breath when I realized my lungs were burning from how long I’d held my breath. “But I’m glad you’re here. Jason, you won’t have to be alone. Quinn, he’s yours from here on out.”
I turned to leave, but his voice rang out. “Don’t you dare leave me here.” His voice was clear and strong, and it brooked no argument.
I stopped and hung my head.
“We didn’t know you’d be home, Jace,” the man said.
“That’s obvious,” Jason replied.
“You don’t remember me?” Quinn asked Jason. She laid a hand on her damp, glistening chest. “Seriously?” She looked as though he’d just slapped her with an open palm right across the face.
“I have no idea who you are,” Jason admitted.
“Well, that stings.” She sank onto the arm of the sofa.
“Jason, I can explain,” the man started.
Jason held up a hand. “Not necessary. I just came to get a few things. I’ll get out of your way in a minute.”
Jason disappeared into the room they had just run out of. I saw the light flip on and heard him rummaging around in drawers. He came out with a small bag over his shoulder and nothing else. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Jason,” I said slowly. “This is your home. And Quinn is here.”
“Quinn’s my girlfriend.” He didn’t ask me the question. He already knew. He winced as he said it. “And Quinn has been sleeping with this guy while I was in the critical care unit.” He glanced at me. “Does that sum it up?”
I nodded. “Probably.”
“It’s not that simple,” the man added.
“No, it really is,” Jason said, cutting him off. “Who are you?” Jason asked.
“Tripp,” the man replied. He laid a hand on his chest. “We’re friends.”
“No, we’re not,” Jason bit out. He looked at Quinn. “I’ll expect you to leave my apartment. Get dressed.” He looked at Tripp. “You too.”
Quinn nodded. Tripp gulped.
He looked at Tripp. “And I’ll expect you never to speak to me again.”
“But…” Tripp asked.
“Ever,” Jason said.
Tripp nodded.
Jason turned toward the door.
“Can I keep my job?” Quinn called out.
He turned back. “You work for me?”
“Secretary,” I muttered under my breath.
He closed his eyes, groaned quietly, and turned to me. “Why did I shit where I eat?” he asked me. He looked utterly offended.
“I have no idea.”
He turned and finally walked out the door. In the corridor, he stopped and looked back at me. “Are you coming?”
I walked toward him with my hands still jammed in my pockets. I followed him to the elevator, where he leaned against the wall and hummed a jaunty little tune all the way down, saying nothing.
“Jason,” I said.
“Not yet,” he replied as we continued to descend. “Please.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
When we got in the car, he put his hand on top of mine to stop me from pushing the button to start the car. “Why did I pick a shitty girlfriend and a shitty friend?” he asked. “Can you at least tell me that?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t involved in either of those decisions.”
“Was I fucking her?” he asked.
“She was your girlfriend.” I'd heard she was, at least. They’d been dating for the past few months, at least.
“I don’t know why I would do such a thing,” he spat out. “I kind of hate myself right now, and I don’t even know who I am.”
I didn’t know who he was, either. And I hadn’t known for a very long time.
“We need to go get your meds.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod.
I reached over and clicked his seatbelt closed.
“Thank you.” He leaned the back of his head against the headrest and stared straight ahead. He said nothing else the rest of the way home. Nothing at all.