Chapter Seventeen
Dani
The cab ride to Jase’s apartment was short, his building only a few blocks from Ardena. We rode the elevator to the fourth floor in silence, him in his chef clothes, me in my sleep shirt, pajama shorts, and flip-flops. Whereas I was still shivering—and not from his building’s AC—he appeared totally relaxed, leaning against the railing along the elevator wall, eyes casually tracking the numbers as they lit up above the doors.
When we reached the fourth floor, he led me down the hallway to his unit and unlocked the door, holding it open for me as he flicked on a switch. The track lights above his kitchen island brightened, illuminating the rest of his living space with a warm glow.
It was simple and masculine with mostly gray and black furniture, but little touches brought the space to life—potted plants on the windowsill, framed posters on the walls, a throw blanket folded over the back of the couch.
It felt comfortable.
Lived in.
My shoulders lowered another inch as I took in a full breath. I was safe here.
This was why I’d called Jase, I realized. Maybe I should have called the police instead, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Not when Jase was the one who managed to slip protective blinders around me again and again, blocking out everything that made me want to run. Even when he wanted nothing to do with me.
There was every chance he would go back to avoiding me tomorrow, but tonight, I was just grateful he’d answered my call.
“You can go ahead and sit on the couch,” he said, walking into the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea.”
I started toward the living room when a flash of gray caught my eye.
“Who’s this?” I asked, kneeling to extend my hand. A large, fluffy cat with storm-gray fur rounded the corner of the island, rubbing against the wooden leg before stretching its nose to sniff my fingers.
“That’d be Baxter,” Jase said, leaning across the counter to glimpse at us as he filled the electric kettle. “He’s a shameless flirt, so if you have a problem with cats, let me know, and I’ll shut him in the bedroom.”
Baxter brushed his head against my hand, then slid his soft body down my arm and between my legs before going back the other way, a purr rumbling through his chest.
I smiled. “No, I love cats. I’ve wanted one for a while, but I’ve moved so frequently over the years that it never seemed like a good idea.”
“The same was true for me before this year. When my ex and I split, I thought of getting a dog, but it would have been a nightmare with my hours. Then I saw this guy at the shelter, and that was it.”
My curiosity piqued at the mention of his ex. He hadn’t talked much about his past relationships before.
Not that he had reason to. Just like I had no reason for asking.
It didn’t stop me from wanting to know.
Baxter followed me to the couch, which was easily twice as large as mine, and quickly curled against my side as I settled onto the cushions. A minute later, Jase approached with two mugs, handing me one and setting the other on the coffee table before disappearing down the short hallway. He reemerged wearing a black T-shirt and gray drawstring pants, a soft-looking navy blanket bundled in his arms.
“Here.” He set the blanket on the couch beside me. “So you can get cozy.”
Emotion tightened my throat. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this cared for by another person. Or even the last time I’d put myself in a situation to allow it.
I tucked the silky fleece around my shoulders, carefully maneuvering it over Baxter, who eyed me as if to warn me I wasn’t allowed to move from my spot. It gave me the time I needed to compose myself enough to speak.
“Thank you,” I said as Jase lowered onto the opposite side of the couch.
He did a quick scan of my bundled-up form before meeting my gaze. “You feeling better?”
I nodded. An electric charge still coursed through my body, keeping my nerves on edge, but it was easing with each moment that passed in his presence. Baxter’s weight and continued purrs helped too.
“So…” His brows rose. “Tequila shots?”
A laugh burst from my chest, shaking loose more of my body’s tension, and I lowered my eyes to the warm mug in my hands. “Karaoke night,” I explained. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”
He shot me a grin. “Been there. Just be glad you don’t have to be on your feet all day tomorrow picking and chiffonading twelve quarts of cilantro with an asshole of a boss screaming in your face every ten minutes.”
I laughed. “That a regular experience of yours?”
“It used to be. More than I care to admit.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. It seems like you hardly ever drink.” I’d only seen it twice—the afternoon after the Citizen Daily interview and the night the staff had drinks. Both times, he’d stopped after one beer.
He took a sip of his tea. “I don’t much anymore. Not since last year. I wasn’t really in the healthiest place.”
“How so?” I asked before taking a sip of my own tea. Chamomile with honey and lemon. It soothed its way down my throat.
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck.
“Sorry, you don’t have to?—”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “It was just a lonely time. Which isn’t how you expect to feel when you’re living with your girlfriend of two years.” He traced his thumb along the rim of his mug. “You know that shift drink we had after close the other week?”
I nodded.
“It’s a regular thing in the industry. Staff going out and having a few drinks after shift, maybe more. I did it all the time when I was a line cook, but when I was at my last restaurant, I started going hard. Didn’t really think anything of it. I was just having fun, you know? I thought I was happy. It’s not like I had any reason not to be. Good job, beautiful girlfriend, all the boxes checked off like they were supposed to be. But then every night, I would go out and drink until I couldn’t see straight ’cause that’s a happy thing to do.”
He tried to say it lightly, but there was a strain to his voice.
“One night, I had borrowed my ex’s car to get to work, and I tried to drive home drunk. Aubrey was the one to take the keys from my hand. She dragged my sorry ass to her place so I could crash on her couch.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, and mine followed suit. Something in me warmed at the knowledge he and Aubrey were “get sloppy drunk and blackout on your couch” friends.
“The next morning, she reamed me out. Told me I needed to change something or I would end up losing everything I’d worked for. Or worse. When I got home, my girlfriend was looking at wedding dresses. She didn’t ask where I’d been, just turned to me and said she thought we should get married. When I asked her why, she said, ‘Well, why wouldn’t we?’ I puked in the toilet, then broke up with her. And then I moved out, changed jobs, got a cat, and found a therapist. I swapped out drinking for going to the gym too. Seemed like a better use of my time.”
“Wow,” I said. That was a change all right. One most people wouldn’t have been brave enough to make.
His gaze dropped to his lap. “I probably could have handled it better. It’s not like my ex was a bad person; she didn’t deserve to be blindsided like that. But I realized our entire relationship had been surface level. Just us going through the motions that had been scripted out by someone else, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t ever want to be back in that place, living under a layer of smiles, pretending.”
His words from the night of the shift drink floated back to me. Something about him not being interested in anything that wasn’t real. It made more sense now. Spoke to the part of me that hadn’t been willing to settle for the few guys I’d dated since Alec, none of whom had sparked anything within me despite all the figurative boxes they’d ticked. Maybe even spoke to the part of me that had broken up with Alec in the first place.
Jase shifted in his seat. “Sorry. You didn’t need to hear my life’s story.”
“Don’t be.” I lifted a shoulder. “I asked.”
He peered at me, our stares connecting for the first time since he’d begun his story. We studied each other quietly for a moment before he turned away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” He leaned forward to get up.
“Wait,” I said quickly.
Forearms on his knees, he glanced back.
“Stay a little longer?”
My muscles no longer trembled, and my pulse had returned to normal, but the thought of being alone just yet had my stomach clenching in knots that made me want to cling to him like I’d seen baby pandas do to their zookeeper’s legs.
His eyes filled with understanding, and he sank back into the cushions. The knot around my stomach loosened.
“What’s your favorite dish on the menu to cook?” I asked.
He raised an amused brow. “Why do you want to know?”
I gave another shrug. “I like hearing you talk about food.” Almost as much as I liked watching him cook it. Where I saw a zucchini, he saw unlimited possibilities. It was fascinating getting a peek into his mind in that way.
He fought a smile but humored me, telling me all about the pear and chestnut agnolotti and how it reminded him of cooking in Italy. Then he moved on to which dish he liked least and what he might replace it with. I shifted to face him, my shoulder pressed against the couch, and tilted my head to rest against the back cushion.
I didn’t notice my eyes close as the low, steady cadence of his voice enveloped me like a blanket. At some point, I registered the mug lifting from my hands and strong arms wrapping around me. Then weightlessness, nothing but the solid warmth beneath my cheek tethering me in place. A moment later, I sank into a cloud of softness, my mind following close behind.
Swaddled in the comfort of safety, I slept.