Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
ryder
Jax’s house is located on the outskirts of town. When I pull into his driveway, I cut the engine, and just sit on my bike.
Not only is my body heavy with exhaustion after riding most of the night, my mind is a fucked up mess of emotions.
The front door swings open before I make it up the walkway. Dressed in basketball shorts and a faded Metallica T-shirt, Jax’s hair is sticking up in all directions like he just rolled out of bed.
“Dude. You look like shit.”
“Fuck you.” I shoulder past him into the house. “Thanks for the warm welcome, dick.”
Jax chuckles.
His apartment is exactly what you’d expect from a single guy in his thirties—worn but relatively decent furniture, a massive 80-inch flat-screen mounted on the wall, and a couple of empty beer bottles still sitting on the coffee table.
I drop my duffel bag on the floor next to the couch and collapse onto it, scrubbing my hands over my face.
“Thanks for letting me crash.”
“Not a problem.” He eyes me suspiciously. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on? You and your girl have a fight?”
He moves into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge.
I blow out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” He tosses me a beer before cracking one open for himself. “You two were all over each other at the party.”
I tip my head back and stare up at the ceiling. How do I explain my current situation without sounding like I’ve lost my mind? There is no way I can tell him I’m actually fictional, and that until I showed up he probably didn’t exist either.
“Yeah.” I take a long pull from the bottle. “But it’s... fuck, I don’t even know where to start.”
Jax flops down in the recliner across from me. “Start with why you’re here instead of balls-deep in your hot writer girlfriend.”
I shoot him a glare.
He just shrugs and grins before taking a swig of his beer.
“When I first moved in with Noia, it was just to help with her writer’s block while my apartment was being renovated,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “She’d been stuck for weeks after her asshole ex left her at the altar.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“Well, what I came up with to help, worked. She’s been able to start writing again.” I pick at the label on my beer bottle. “But somewhere along the way, things got... intense.”
“You caught feelings,” Jax states matter-of-fact.
“Yeah.” I exhale slowly. “And now I’m having a hard time figuring out if what I’m feeling is real or if it’s just because of our current situation.”
“What situation?” Jax tilts his head. “You’re living with a hot blonde who writes smut for a living. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
If only he knew how far from straightforward my current situation actually is.
“I just need some space to figure my shit out,” I say. “See if what I’m feeling holds up when I’m not around her all the time.”
“Fair enough.” Jax doesn’t push, which is one of the many things I’ve always appreciated about him. “So what’s the plan? Just hide out here until you get your head straight?”
“Pretty much.” I finish my beer. “That a problem?”
“Nah, man. Stay as long as you need.”
“Appreciate it.”
“A little too early in the morning for this heavy shit.” Jax stands up and stretches. “How about you go crash and when you get up, we can order pizza, drink beer and play video games the rest of the day?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“Guest room is all yours.” Jax points down the hall. “Sheets are actually clean.”
I grab my bag and head down the hall, my body practically screaming for sleep. The room is small but neat, with a queen-size bed, small nightstand and blue light-blocking curtains framing the window.
Shutting the door behind me, I drop my bag on the floor and close the curtains. Then I collapse onto the bed, not even bothering to take off my boots. The moment my head hits the pillow, I’m out cold.
When I wake up, my mouth feels like sandpaper and my head is pounding.
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. I’ve been asleep for almost eight hours.
A quick knock sounds at the door before it opens.
“About time you rejoined the land of the living,” Jax says from the doorway. “I ordered pizza. Large meat lovers with extra cheese and a couple sides of wings.” He tosses me a cold beer. “Figured you could use this.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” I crack it open and take a long swallow, the cold liquid soothing my parched throat.
The doorbell rings and when Jax leaves to go answer it, I haul myself up and into the bathroom to grab a quick shower. Throwing on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, I head into the living room.
“Food’s here,” Jax says. “And I’ve got Call of Duty loaded up.”
“Good. ‘Cuz I really need to shoot something.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
The pizza smells like heaven, and my stomach growls in response. Grabbing a slice, I drop onto the couch and quickly scarf it down.
After downing the rest of my beer, Jax hands me a controller. “Prepare to get your ass handed to you,” he grins.
“In your dreams,” I grin back, already feeling better.
We spend the next several hours playing video games, talking shit, and demolishing the pizza and wings. It’s easy to fall back into our usual rhythm, and for a while, I forget about everything else.
By the time we finish our sixth—or is it seventh?—beer, I’m pleasantly buzzed. The game ends with my character getting blown to bits, and I toss the controller aside.
“Fuck that shit,” I mutter with a grin.
“Want another beer?” Jax asks, heading to the kitchen.
“Sure.” I settle back against the couch.
Then it hits me. I wonder what Noia is doing right now. Is she writing? Is she thinking about me? Does she miss me as much as I suddenly realize I miss her?
“Hey. You good?” Jax asks, handing me another beer.
I take it with a grunt. “Just thinking.”
“About your girl,” he states.
“Yeah.”
Jax studies me for a moment, then sets his beer down with a decisive thud. “Alright, that’s it. We’re going out.”
“What? No, man. I’m good here.”
“Nope. I’m not gonna spend the rest of the night watching you sit around and mope.” He points in the direction of the hall. “Go get dressed. We’re hitting The Brew.”
“Fine,” I grumble, pushing myself off the couch. “But just for a couple of hours.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re walking into The Brew. The place is packed, music thumping as we make our way across the room to where Claire and Lizzy are hanging out at the bar.
“Ladies,” Jax grins, sliding onto a barstool. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I nod at them and order a whiskey, wishing I was back at Jax’s place. Or better yet, with Noia.
Claire slides onto the stool next to me, eyeing me carefully. “What’s up with you? Where’s Noia?”
“Not here.” Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I take a sip of my drink, bracing myself.
“Everything, okay?”
I shrug, this time downing half my drink.
Lizzy shoves Jax out of the way and leans on the bar next to me. Now I’ve got both women boxing me in.
“Why do you have sad puppy dog eyes?”
I glance over at Jax for help, but he just grins.
Asshole.
“I do not have sad puppy dog eyes,” I growl.
“Oh, you definitely do,” Claire agrees as she slides off the stool and grabs my arm. “Come on, broody. Let’s go play some darts.”
Next thing I know, she’s dragging me over to a dartboard in the corner, Jax and Lizzy not far behind.
“So what happened?” Claire asks as she sets up the game.
She hands me the darts and I roll them over and over in my hand while I think about what to say. “It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated,” she says, lining up her shot. “Doesn’t mean you should run from it.”
Her dart hits the bullseye dead on.
Moving into position, I take my turn. “I’m not running,” I argue, my dart landing just outside the center. Yup, definitely off my game, and in more ways than one. “I just needed time to think.”
“About what?” Lizzy asks, perching on a nearby stool.
“Whether if what I’m feeling for her is real or not.”
Claire’s second dart hits the triple twenty. “You mean you’re afraid you only like her because you’re living in the same house?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“Come on. You’ve been taking her out on these… adventure dates to help her with her writer’s block, right?”
I nod and throw another dart, knocking one of Claire’s off the board and onto the floor.
“Well, it makes sense with you spending all this time together that you’d start having some kind of feelings.” Snatching the dart from the floor, she pins me with a look. “You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “ Jesus, Claire—”
“That’s a yes.” With a knowing smirk, she throws her final dart. “So, what’s the problem? The way you two were all over each other at the party, it was pretty obvious.”
“Yeah, we’ve slept together.” I down the rest of my whiskey. “Multiple times.”
“How was it?” Lizzy grins wickedly.
“Jesus Christ.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m not talking about this with any of you anymore.”
“That good, huh?” Jax chuckles.
I turn to glare at him. “Who the fuck’s side are you on?”
“The side that wants to see you stop being a moody asshole.” He signals the waitress for another round. “Look, man, I’ve known you for over a decade and I’ve never seen you like this about anyone.”
I down the rest of my whiskey, reveling in the warmth as it burns its way down my throat. How do I go about explaining that I’m questioning my entire existence?
“Like what?”
“Happy,” Claire cuts in softly. “For the first time since I’ve known you, you actually seem happy. Aside from tonight.”
Her words hit me hard. She’s right. I have been happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.
Lizzy pipes up again. “Are you scared?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “Sorry. I just...” I rub the back of my neck. “I just need to know if my feelings are genuine.”
“Why do you think your feelings aren’t genuine?” Lizzy raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. “What if I only think I care about her because of our current situation?”
Claire throws her hands up. “Ride, that’s literally how all relationships work. You meet someone, you spend time together, you develop feelings—especially now that you’re sleeping together. You should’ve known that would take everything you’re doing to a whole other level.”
“But what if—”
“Nuh-uh,” she interrupts. “You’re seriously overthinking this. Do you miss her?”
I hesitate, then nod reluctantly.
“When you think about her, does it make you happy?”
Another nod.
“When you imagine your life without her, how do you feel?”
The question hits me hard. Just the thought of never seeing Noia again twists something tight and painful in my gut.
“Empty,” I reply, my voice hoarse. “I feel fucking empty.”
Claire gives me a knowing look. “There’s your answer.”
Several rounds later, the room is spinning. My head has taken on that pleasant, fuzzy feeling where everything is wobbly and soft.
“I think we should call it a night,” Jax says, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady me when I start to sway on my barstool.
“Jus’ one more,” I insist, raising my empty glass.
“Nope. You’re done.” Claire plucks the glass from my hand. “Time to go home, big guy.”
The thought of going back to Jax’s place, to that empty guest room, makes me anxious. Then the back of my neck tingles, and I know where I need to go.
“My place,” I blurt. “Take me to my apartment.”
Jax frowns. “I thought your apartment was getting renovated.”
I shake my head, immediately regretting doing so when my head feels like it’s going to pop like a balloon. “Pretty sure it’s done.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay with me?” Jax asks, concern written all over his face. “You can stay at your place tomorrow.”
“I’m good.”
“Okay,” Jax sighs.
Claire and Lizzy help us out to Jax’s truck. As soon as I’m in the front seat, I promptly slump against the window, the glass cool and soothing against my forehead.
“You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow,” Jax mutters as he drives.
“Already do,” I mumble.
After we park in front of Skin & Ink, Jax helps me out of the truck and up the stairs.
Fumbling with my keys, I drop them twice before Jax lets out an exasperated sigh and takes them away from me.
The door swings open, and I step inside. Every light is on, and the place looks... good.
Books fill the shelves lining the back wall, and a red throw blanket is lying over the back of a brown leather couch. A 60-inch flat screen sits on top of more bookshelves that are shorter than the others, lined up next to each other to form a makeshift entertainment center.
Framed posters and art hang on the walls. The floors look like they’ve been refinished, and the kitchen has been updated as well.
“Wow,” Jax exclaims. “The place looks good, man.”
Despite my inebriated state, somehow I knew this would all be here.
“Weird,” I mumble, running my hand along the back of the couch. “This is exactly how I imagined it would look.”
“Whoever did the renovation did a great job,” Jax says, looking around appreciatively. “You want me to hang for a bit?”
I shake my head, surprised when the room doesn’t spin as bad as it did before. “Nah, I’m good. Just need to sleep it off.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”
Jax looks skeptical, but heads for the door. “Call me tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
As soon as the door closes behind him, I throw the lock, toe off my boots, and head into the bedroom.
Flanked by two nightstands, a king-size bed with a fluffy tan duvet sits on a large multicolored blue area rug up against the wall to my left.
In just a few strides, I’m across the room. I throw open the doors to the built-in closets and find they are no longer empty. All my clothes are hanging neatly inside—jeans, Henley’s, T-shirts, my boots are lined up on the floor. There’s even a couple of suits.
Swaying on my feet, I hear Jax’s truck start up and pull away from the curb.
Making my way back through the apartment, I turn off all the lights. Back in my bedroom, I strip and collapse onto my new bed.
My last coherent thought before darkness claims me is of Noia’s face and the hurt in her eyes when I told her I needed time and space.