Chapter 4
Chapter Four
J USTIN
I’ve been waiting for three days till a good opportunity turned up.
Now I’m hiding behind the car, trying to check the brakes while making sure nobody sees me doing it.
As I thought, the brake pads are fucking worn down.
Completely. I’d been hearing the loud squealing noise of dying brakes every time this rust bucket stopped at traffic lights or parked, and I could now confirm.
How she hasn’t been found dead in a ditch yet is beyond me.
The only place she should drive this metal can ever again is to a junkyard.
I squat next to the wheel again, making sure I got the right model.
“Huh, interesting.”
I jump like my ass is on fire and come face-to-face with a very smug-looking Freya .
“Lost something over there?” she asks, trying to stop her smile from spreading too wide. Her stance is that of a woman who knows a secret with which she could bury you.
“Over where?” I play dumb, even though I’ve been busted.
“Under Kayla’s car.” She nods at the old beast.
“Yeah, dropped my keys.” I pat my front pockets nonchalantly.
“Did you find them?” She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip, challenging me.
“Yep,” I affirm and start walking toward the grocery store. Freya falls in step behind me.
“I never thanked you for saving Kayla. So thank you,” she tells me.
“I didn’t do anything,” I grunt in the most neutral voice I can manage. “It was Alex who noticed the fire.”
“Really?” She perks up at the mention of his name, even though she’s heard this story a dozen times. This motherfucker better hurry the hell up because I don’t know how long I can keep up with this charade he’s putting me through.
“Yeah, he noticed that something was wrong and called me.”
“You got her out, though.” She pushes for more with a suggestive tone.
“Anyone would do the same,” I cut her off too sharply.
“Yeah.” Her tone dulls, indicating that she didn’t like my answer. What did she expect? For me to announce my undying love for that trailer trash? I did what everybody would do in my place, and then I had to get out before the firefighters arrived. I just had to. I had my reasons.
“How is Jake? He isn’t talking to me much nowadays.” Great. Another sore subject .
“He’s fine.” He’s not. He hasn’t been fine since he shot that asshole. I know he and Freya made amends, but I don’t think he’s in the right state of mind to dive into a friendship with her. Not when he killed her ex.
“Okay, good. Do you think Alicia will want to meet for lunch or something?” Her tone is hopeful, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that my sister is antisocial.
And for a good reason. She hasn’t really talked to anybody besides family for years now.
It worries us, of course, but we don’t know how to help her move on.
She said she has, but we all know she’s been stuck in that nightmare, that that moment defines who she is now, even though it shouldn’t.
We love her, and she’s perfect just the way she is.
I’d love to see her more open though, livelier, more like her old self—the social butterfly who attracted everybody to her bright light.
But she refuses to change anything. Or maybe she simply can’t.
I wish I knew, but she doesn’t share with me or anybody.
Our conversations now include only safe subjects: her books, our house, the weather, and family holidays.
“Sure, I’ll ask.” I nod regardless of my thoughts—I don’t want to be the villain and burst Freya’s little bubble of temporary happiness.
“Thank you! That would be so cool!”
She then proceeds to chatter about local gossip and living with Alex’s family, and I just nod and hum at the right moments.
My mind’s busy sorting out how to covertly fix the brakes on Kayla’s car.
If I didn’t know about them, my hands would be clean, and I’d happily move on with my life.
But now I know , and I can’t have her getting into an accident because of worn-down brakes that I could have fixed because I fuckin’ knew .
But then, while chatting about her recent encounters with every single person in Little Hope, Freya mentions Jake’s name again, and I get an idea.
He’s been giving Kayla tickets on a regular basis, and knowing her, she probably hasn’t been paying them out of spite.
I could remind him about all those tickets and ask why her car hasn’t been towed yet.
And once it’s towed, I can go and replace it.
Bobby, the guy who owns the towing company, owes me a favor. Yeah, sounds like a solid plan to me.
Once Freya’s dutifully informed me about everything I didn’t need to know, I hug her goodbye and head home to my place.
Where I get a bad fucking surprise.
Ashley’s sitting on my bed, clearly naked under the comforter draped over her shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I bark, toeing my boots off.
“Waiting for you—what else?” She lifts her skinny shoulder, and the comforter falls onto her lap, baring her big tits that used to make me all hot and bothered.
“I thought we had this conversation already.”
“Pf-f-f,” she dismisses, waving her hand, the clicking sound of those bracelets I absolutely fucking hate grating on my ears. “It was just a joke.”
“It was not,” I say, clenching my jaw.
She stands up and walks toward me, trying to force her skinny hips to swing.
It looks unnatural—too wide of a range. I’m surprised she hasn’t dislocated her pelvis.
When she comes closer, she traces her finger from my bicep to my chest and then down.
Aaaaand… nothing. No movements happening down there .
None. She used to do it for me, but not for a while now.
Not at all. I’m relieved, to be completely honest.
I grip her wrist and use it to keep her at a distance. “I said this —” I gesture with my free hand at the space between her and myself—“is done.”
“Why?” she screeches, snatching her wrist from my grasp, and I let her. So much for staying classy—her face, growing rapidly blotchier and twisted with offended fury, doesn’t predict a mature conversation to come.
“Because it was a good arrangement while it lasted.” I step back and look at her with a cold stare. “And now it’s passed its expiration date.”
“ Arrangement? ” she parrots, her voice pitchy and loud.
“What else did you think it was?” I’m taken aback—surely, she doesn’t think it was more than that. For fuck’s sake, I’ve been sleeping with a lot of people besides her, and she knows that. So has she.
“ We were dating! ” she shrieks, turning her heel to storm back to the bed, where she picks up her watch from the nightstand.
My laugh borders on a scoff. “No, we were not. We never even went out. We fucked other people. We didn’t meet each other’s family?—”
“I’m friends with Alicia!” she screeches again, hitting my nightstand lamp with her clenched fist, sending it flying to the floor with a loud crash .
What in the ever-loving hell is happening with lamps recently?
Alex first, and now Ashley. I’m going to have to start factoring in a monthly lamp-replacement budget if this keeps up.
“Oh, I highly doubt that.” My chuckle is dark. Alicia can’t stand Ashley, threatening to cut my balls off if I ever brought her to a family dinner. Not that it ever occurred to me to do so.
“Oh, you just don’t know anything. Nothing, Justin.” Then she begins laughing like a cartoon villain, and as melodramatic as it is, I get chills. There’s something in the way she says it. As if she really knows something I don’t.
“Are you done?” I level her with a stare.
“Yeah, I’m done! I’m so fucking done with you!” She begins collecting her clothes from the floor. She created a fuckin’ mess just trying to be sexy, throwing her underwear everywhere. She was always a mess, and I absolutely hated it; there can only be one slob in this space, and that slob is me.
As she reaches the door, I stop her with a question: “How did you get in, Ashley?” I ask in my calmest voice.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she sneers.
“How?” I repeat firmly, and she sobers up instantly. She knows better than to fuck with me when I’m in no mood for games.
“The key under the rug at the back door,” she sniffs, calmer now but still thoroughly pissed.
“Forget it’s there.” My stare could freeze a lake to the damn bottom in a blink.
“Whatever,” she says, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder.
I make a mental note to change the location of my emergency keys and tell my parents about that.
I take a shower, microwave some dinner, and go to watch some TV. Cringing at the first bite of my barely edible meatballs with pasta, I yearn for my mom’s food. I need to visit them tomorrow. I haven’t been for a while, plus I’m missing the home-cooked food.
My phone rings, and I pick it up without looking. “Yeah?”
“Jus,” Alex’s tired voice says.
“Hey, motherfucker. Are you back yet?” I ask through huge bites. It helps to ignore the generally disgusting taste if I just shove it down the gullet. I probably look like a pelican eating.
“No, not ready yet. It’s fucking tough, man.” I hear his heavy sigh.
I stop chewing. “I know, man, I know. But you’ll get better.” He makes a pensive hum. “I’m really proud of you right now,” I tack on. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah.” A heavy silence follows. “How is she?” We both know he checked into that place because of Freya. He always needed to do this for himself, but he’s doing it now for her.
“Missing you. Constantly on my ass about you.” I swallow a sip of beer, washing the awful taste of the food down.
He huffs a small laugh, then pauses before adding, “Have they been talking?” I know who he means—he’s trying to spare me because the mention of Kayla’s name usually causes a burst of anger. Alex is one of very few who knows the whole story.
“Yeah, I saw them at the diner together,” I answer, instinctively crinkling my nose in distaste.