31. Adair
31
ADAIR
T hree grand. It’s a weird feeling, opening up the app for my bank and looking at the amount in the account. I can’t remember the last time I had that much money. Even though Jack was a bossy asshole about it, his insistence that I just save my money rather than kick in for household expenses definitely benefited me. It was reassuring seeing that balance grow.
Although I guess that’s a moot point now. It’s been exactly a week since Jack stormed out after I told him that I contacted Sarah. I figured he might need a few days to cool off, but I haven’t heard a peep from him. Not even when I shoot him messages letting him know I’m out of the house. He reads them, but he never writes back. Living in his house while trying to avoid him has been stressful and awkward as hell. I’ve been spending a lot of time in my car reading; it’s the only place that feels like mine anymore.
Nights are the worst. The first night, I climbed the stairs to the loft and just stared. Jack took his pillow. That was the moment when I think it really sunk in for me. I cried until I was exhausted and my pillow was soaked.
I feel both lonely and guilty being in that bed by myself all warm and toasty. A few times, I made the mistake of walking over to the sliding glass door that leads out to the upper deck and pulling back the heavy drape to peer out at the backyard. Each time, I caught a glimpse of a warm light glowing in the window.
The first time, I crept back to bed, then felt like an asshole for tiptoeing when my sleepy brain remembered that the man I didn’t want to wake up was probably still awake because he was staying in a glorified shed. The second time, it was pouring rain so the light was blurry even before my eyes filled with tears. I told myself there was no way Jack would tolerate having a building that leaked, but it didn’t help me feel better about the fact that he was out there.
The last time, I’d made it all the way to fully dressed except for socks. I shoved my bare feet into boots and was by the door, yanking on my jacket, when I heard his voice in my head, warning me that he didn’t even want to see my face. I didn’t bother to get undressed, falling asleep on top of the covers that night.
Every time my phone chimes with a notification, I hope it’s a message from Jack telling me he doesn’t hate my guts anymore, but the radio silence I’m getting is louder even than when he shouted at me. I can take a hint.
It’s been a week, so I have to face the fact that things aren’t going to change, and that I blew up what might have been the best thing to ever happen to me. With a lump in my throat, I pull up a website for local apartment listings and start browsing.
I’m also realizing that sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and tell Sarah I failed in my stupid, none-of-my-business attempt to reunite her and Jack. But I’m still putting it off. I can’t deal with being a disappointment to both of them right now.
I ’ve pinned my hopes on that three grand, which I guess is my karmic mistake.
As I’m pulling up to a red light, I think of something. Grabbing my phone out of the cupholder, I set myself a reminder to stop by the store later. With his usual bossy asshole insistence, Jack had insisted I start doing that. I resented it almost as much as I had to admit that it worked.
Thinking about Jack brings a lump into my throat. I swallow it down. The person behind me lays on the horn. I drop my phone into the cupholder and jerk my head up, thinking I spaced out and the light already turned green.
I let out a squeak of fear when I see white smoke pouring from around the edges of my hood. I check both sides of the street before I blow the red light, pulling over onto the shoulder of the road as soon as I cross the intersection. I yank the key out of the ignition with shaking hands and nearly tumble onto the asphalt in my haste to get out of the car.
I feel like I’m watching the money in my account float up into the air and vanish, just like that smoke. I’m standing there, staring helplessly at it, when a Jeep pulls up behind me.
“Hey!” The driver’s shout jogs me out of my spiraling thoughts. “You OK?” He’s got his window down and a look of concern on his face.
I walk over on shaky legs. “Yeah,I’m OK, but I don’t know what’s wrong with my car.” I’m surprised and embarrassed by how wobbly my voice is.
The guy gets out of the Jeep. He looks like he’s about my age, with curly brown hair sticking out from underneath a knit beanie. Zipping up his puffy vest, he kind of squints at my steaming car. “Maybe you should call a tow truck?”
“I don’t have the money for that,” I say reflexively.
He looks uncertain. “Were you going somewhere nearby? Do you need a ride?”
I shake my head, realizing that I’m out of options. I open up my contacts and tap Bossy Asshole with a sigh of resignation. “Alright. I have somebody coming,” I tell him a minute later. I take a look back to my car. Smoke is still coming from the hood and the grill.
He sees me grimace. “Do you want to wait in my Jeep until your ride gets here?” He blows into his hands and rubs them together. “It’s warm in there.”
H is name is Mark, and he’s right; the heat in the Jeep is cranking. There’s a guitar jam-band satellite radio channel playing. Since I’m concentrating on my phone, I jump about a mile when there’s a rapping on the passenger window.
Through the glass, Jack scowls at me. Mark looks nervous. “Um, is that your ride?”
“Yeah.” I scramble out of the Jeep. “Thanks for letting me stay warm.” I try to shut the door right away but I’m not quick enough.
Jack pins his dark stare on Mark. “This isn’t your business. Get out of here,” he snarls. I cringe and give Mark what I hope is an apologetic smile.
“Who was that fuckface?” Jack scowls after the Jeep as it pulls away. He walks quickly towards my car. I hustle to keep up.
“His name is Mark. You didn’t have to bite his head off! He just pulled over and was nice enough to let me wait in his car until you showed up.”
“Seriously?” Jack reaches the front of my car and turns to glare at me. “You just got in some stranger’s car?”
“It’s cold out!”
“Why couldn’t you wait in your car?”
I stare at him, incredulous. “Um, because I wasn’t sure if it was on fire or not.”
Jack snorts derisively. “Jesus H. It’s not on fire . Smells like antifreeze. Probably blew a radiator hose.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that? I figured probably-not-murderer was safer than maybe-on-fire.”
Jack opens my driver’s-side door to pop the hood, rolling his eyes as he does. “Dumb bunny.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed your sparkling personality,” I mutter. He throws me a fierce glare but doesn’t snap back with another cutting comment like I’m expecting him to.
I look at him as he opens the hood and studies the guts of my car. He makes a face at one point and leans over to get a better look at something. His hair is pulled back like usual, but one dark lock he must have missed falls into his face. Shit, he looks so good. I hate myself for thinking that. I miss the way he smells so much. Maybe there’s a way I could pretend to trip into him, just to get closer to him for a few seconds. I feel pathetic just thinking that and shift my gaze to stare at the clumps of dead weeds along the side of the road.
The sound of the hood slamming shut makes me jump. “Yeah, radiator hose. I’ve got a tow chain in my truck. I’ll get it back to the house.”
“Can’t you take it to a mechanic for me?”
Jack frowns. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to save money?”
“I have to get it fixed.”
“ Christ .” He brings a big hand to his face and rubs his temples like he’s got a headache. “This isn’t a big deal. I’ll fix it,” he says gruffly. “It’s not going to derail your plans to register for classes next semester.”
A pit forms low in my belly at those words. I’d wanted to avoid this next part of the conversation, but these circumstances are painting me into a corner.
“Uh, actually, I’d sort of assumed at this point I was going to have to push any school plans back by… a semester.” A semester sounds better than indefinitely .
Jack frowns, and I weigh my next words carefully. “I was figuring school would have to wait because I’d need rent money again.”
Astonishment flashes over Jack’s face for a split-second. By the time I blink, his expression is cold. “ What?” His voice is icy, too. “ What did you say?”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I just hadn’t found a new place yet, and I figured it would be better not to bring it up until I had a plan.”
His brows drop low over his eyes. “Have you been looking?”
He glares at me so intensely that I squirm. “Um, yeah,” I say quietly.
“No,” he says in the same frosty tone. He doesn’t spare me another glance as he walks to his truck, flipping down the tailgate so he can hop into the bed.
I frown as I trail behind him. “What do you mean, no? About what?”
Jack is rummaging through a black bin in the back of his truck and doesn’t respond. I figure he either didn’t hear me or — more likely — is ignoring me, even though I’m right next to the truck.
“No what?”
Jack makes me wait before he acknowledges me. I’m just about to repeat myself yet again when he answers without looking up. “You’re not moving out.”
“You can’t tell me that. You can’t make me stay.”
Jack huffs out a laugh like I said something funny, shaking his head a little. He lets the lid of the bin fall shut with a slam. I think he’s going to make a crack at my expense, buthe’s being weirdly dismissive instead of antagonistic.
I hustle to the tailgate and intercept him as he’s about to hop out. “I said you can’t make me stay there.”
Jack looks down at me and sighs. There’s a tinge of exasperation in his tone and his face, but he’s not acting like usual. It hits me all at once. He’s acting like he’s trying to avoid an argument. Huh.
Problem is, I’m indignant enough that I’m spoiling for one at this point. I prop my hands on my hips. “What, so you don’t want to be with me but you don’t want me to leave, either? What kind of possessive caveman bullshit is that?”
“Bullshit?” His eyes widen. I don’t think he’s faking it to be sarcastic; he looks genuinely surprised. And maybe even a little… hurt?
“Fucking bullshit?” He shakes his head as his brows draw together. “You fucking little snot. I’m trying to do the right thing for your slacker ass. I’m trying to give you an opportunity you seem determined to piss away.”
He hops out of the truck bed, a heavy chain in his hands, and skirts around me. I’m embarrassed to feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “Hey! You said I wasn’t allowed to call myself a slacker anymore. If I’m not, you’re not either.” I swallow down a lump in my throat and meet his scowl with one of my own. “That’s not even you being a bossy asshole. That’s just you being mean.”
His glare is flinty. “OK, fine — sorry . What would you prefer? Want me to tell you instead how you’re one of those fuckups who’s afraid of being happy and fulfilled? Is that why you work a dead-end job and shut out reality with your —” he rolls his eyes, “ smut books and pervy drawings?” He barks out a laugh. “I bet that’s why you don’t want anybody else to see them.”
“I’m not fucking ashamed . I’m just tired of people judging me,” I say with a bitter laugh. “You think I ought to be ashamed of what I draw?”
“No, you fucking dumb bunny,” he snaps. “I think you’re talented and you should be proud of your art. But I think you’re afraid to acknowledge you could do something with those skills because that would mean leaving the rut you’ve ground yourself into.”
I frown. That’s not true. That can’t be true. So why can I suddenly not find the words to deny it, to tell Jack that he’s full of shit and and a thousand percent wrong about me?
Goddammit. “I’m not in a rut,” I mumble.
“Then fucking prove it,” he shoots back, his tone of voice a challenge as he stalks up to me. “Re-enroll in school like you said you were going to do, or find a graphic design job you don’t need a degree for. Or, shit —I don’t care — just do something with your art like I was saying the other day.”
I set my jaw and glare at him. “I don’t need a lecture! And I don’t understand why you feel like you have to take care of me.” I hate the way my voice sounds —sullen, like a petulant teenager. “You’re treating me like a fucking kid.” I know, I know .
Jack scowls. “I’m not taking care of you. It’s just that you do a shit job taking care of yourself.”
“Not true.” I fold my arms and glare at him. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.”
His eyes narrow briefly. By the time I blink, his face is devoid of expression.
“Yeah? That so?” His voice isn’t mean. It isn’t even challenging. This should be setting off alarm bells, but I’m too fired up to pay attention.
I frown at him. “ Yes .”
I jump at the metallic crash when Jack drops the chain in a heap at my feet. “Glad to hear it. Why don’t you get this rigged up between my hitch and your front bumper. I’m going to wait in the truck where it’s warm. Let me know when you’re done.”
He turns on his heel and walks away as I try and fail to blink back hot, furious tears.