Now or Never (13 page)

“Looking.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a mechanic.”

Em couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Laughing felt like a sin—with all the bad that she’d caused, what right did she have to be happy, even for a moment?—but the two of them made it impossible not to. By the time she joined them on the sidewalk, her sides hurt. “Isn’t that in the guy book? Good with cars. Right after don’t dress up?”

“Har-har.” Mason got down on one knee and hung his head
to peer underneath again.

“Christ, Mason, I want you to fix him not propose to him. Get under there.” Ash waved frantically at the car while Mason scowled and tears
welled in Em’s eyes from the hilarity.

Giving in to Ashlyn’s demands,
Mason laid out flat on his back and scooted underneath for a closer look. The cold air bit through the thin layers of material shielding Em from the night as they awaited his verdict. Minutes ticked by and Em was beginning to wonder if he was actually doing anything under there, or just trying not to look bad. She was starting to feel bad for teasing him when the shadows around them shifted.

A
group of three guys around their age—maybe a little bit older—were headed down the alley. Nerves on high alert, Em kicked Mason’s leg.

“What? I’m trying to—”

“Mason.” Something in her voice caught his attention and he shoved back out from under the car just as the men surrounded them.

“Car trouble?” T
he guy in front of Mason, wearing a green and white bandana tied around his greasy hair and a white hoodie nearly long enough to cover up the fact that his jeans were hanging halfway down his ass, folded his arms and settled back on his heels.

“We’re all set. Just leaving.” Mason tugged Ash closer to the car as one of the other’s stepped closer.

“Actually . . . you aren’t.” Green and white bandana smirked, untucking a handgun from the back of his belt.

“We don’t
want any trouble.” Mason gripped Em’s elbow, pushing her closer to Ashlyn.

“Trouble isn’t what we’re looking for. Cash, cards, jewelry. Not trouble. So hand it over and we can all go on our way.”

“Okay. You got it.” Mason pulled out his wallet and passed it to the guy standing beside Ashlyn.

He wore a s
imilar cliché get-up. Matching bandana secured over his scraggly blonde hair that turned up at his ears. Gray hoodie. No coats, despite the cold. His pants weren’t quite as loose fitting, though. These were the details Em’s mind chose to latch onto, ignoring the more frightening aspects of the encounter. Hands shaking, she unclasped the necklace and bracelet Ash had given her.

“What else you got?”
The one with the gun seemed to be the spokesman for the group. Made sense.

“Nothing, man. I gave you my wallet. That’s it.”

“What about you?” He flipped the gun toward Ash and she yipped, tugging her clutch out from under her sweater and passing it off to her personal robber.

“You?” The gun turned her way and Em’s vision narrowed until all she saw was the barrel of the weapon pointed her way.

“She gave you everything.” Mason tried to step in front of her, but the third guy—the one Em hadn’t even realized had come up right beside her—shoved him away.

All she could see was the black sweatshirt that met her eye level, but she felt certain if she’d been brave enough to look up he’d be wearing the same kind of
hair accessory as his friends.

“Where’s y
our purse, pretty?” His breath reeked of tobacco and alcohol.

“I-I don’t have one.”

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, now would you? Because that would be very, very stupid.”

“She’s not!” Ash’s cry w
ent largely ignored.

“You got your cash in your pockets?”

“I d-don’t have pockets. O-or cash.”

“Is that so?” In one swift move, he spun her around and had her front plastered against the side of the car.

“Get off her!”

“She doesn’t have anything!”

Em could hear Ashlyn and Mason beside her, but they sounded very far away as her pulse roared in her ears. A steel band wrapped viciously around her chest and her heart went from racing to skipping beats entirely.

“Then it shouldn’t matter if we search her.”

Hot breath washed down the back of her neck and hands roamed over her body.
Hands
.
Touching. Demanding. Holding. Hurting. Everywhere.

Em frantically searched her dark surroundings and the band cinched tighter, compressing the last of the air from her lungs when she realized who she was looking for. And that he wasn’t there.
When a hand closed over her breast dark spots danced in her vision. Everything blurred as her head began to spin and her knees gave out.

“Em?”

“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with her, man?” The hands receded.

All of their voices seemed to be coming to her from underwater. She could barely make out what they were saying over the ringing in her ears.

“I don’t know. Em? Em, are you all right?”

“Yo, let’s get outta here, man.”

“I think she’s having a panic attack.” The sound of running footsteps overshadowed the concern in Ashlyn’s voice. “Come on, Em. Breathe. Come on.” Ash took a deep breath, and Em attempted to do the same. It was like trying to breathe through a straw. “There you go. Just like that. Again.”

Ashlyn held her hand while Mason stood over the two of them casting anxious glances down the sidewalk as Em fought to drag oxygen into her angry lungs.

Slowly, the air started flowing. In and out. In and out. The burning in her lungs eased, but her chest still ached from the strain.

Mason squatted in front of her, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Better?”

Em nodded, still not trusting her voice enough to speak.

“
It’s okay, Em. They’re gone now. It was just a little money. Nothing to panic over.” He offered her a strained smile.

He didn’t get it. But, Ashlyn did. She squeezed Em’s hand, silently asking if she was all right. Em nodded almost imperceptibly,
and followed on shaky legs as Mason led them back to the car.

This time Mason got behind the wheel, with no argument from Ash. She climbed in beside him, knowing without having to be told that Em would need her space.

“Did you guys still want to go to the show or . . .?”

Ashlyn glanced back at Em and shook her head. “I think we’d better just go home.”

“Okay.”

They sounded disappointed and
though the guilt ate at her, Em couldn’t bring herself to argue. She had to go home. There was no way she could stand a crowd as big as a concert after what had just happened.

She barely made i
t through the front door before she started tearing off the soiled clothes. Dropping the sweater over the back of the couch, she shut her bedroom door before stripping off the dress and throwing it into the farthest corner along with the heels.

Em stood in the middle of the room, shaking
, in nothing but her underwear when Ashlyn knocked on the door. “You all right?”

“Fine.” Em was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t waver. “Just tired. Long night. Thought I’d hit the sack early.

“You sure? Mason’s calling the police to file a report. Do you want to come out and talk to them when they get here?”

“No. I didn’t even have anything stolen. Besides your jewelry, but I’ll replace that. I—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I got them on the sale rack at Macy’s. They aren’t worth anything. Don’t worry about it, Em. I’m just worried about you.”

Em steadied herself, cracked open the door, looked her best friend right in the eye . . . and lied. “I’m fine.”

Ash studied her face, looking for cracks, but Em held solid. Masks were something she’d always been excellent at.

Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, Ash nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure with—”

“I know. Thanks. Mason’s right, I overreacted. I haven’t eaten much today and I think all the excitement just sent my brain into a tailspin for a second.”

“Are you hungry? We could—”

“Just tired, really.”

“Okay. Well, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Good night.” Em barely got the door shut before she fell apart.

Hitting the floor hard, her knees were grateful for the carpeting. She buried her face in her hands to muffle the sobbing and tried to fight back the feel of his hands on her body.

A knock at the front door, voices in the living room, the squawk of a radio. Em stayed there, curled up on the floor, listening to all of it, afraid of getting into bed and falling asleep, terrified of what awaited her there.

At some point
, after the house fell silent and Ashlyn shuffled off to bed, she dragged herself across the hall and into a scorching shower. Her skin reddened under the hot spray as she sat huddled on the floor of the tub, frantically scrubbing away his touch, but she made no move to get out until it had run cold. It was nearly four AM before she finally collapsed into bed, and almost immediately the nightmares dragged her under.

Chapter Twenty-three

Jay

Morning shifts sucked, there was no two ways about it. Jay rolled out of bed and slapped the alarm harder than strictly necessary. He’d just closed last night and was running on a grand total of three-and-a-half hours of sleep. The rate he was going, he might as well just set up a cot in Bart’s office. He saw more of that place than he did of home anymore, and still it wasn’t enough. Nothing he did ever seemed to be enough.

Jay continued to set aside money for his father to make sure what happened with Em would never happen again, while the
unpaid bills piled up on the counter, the most recent labeled as “final disconnect notices”. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, though. Shit was falling apart faster than he could keep it together and he had no idea what to do other than keep his priorities straight, in which case Em would always come first.

After a quick shower—a luxury he wasn’t
taking for granted anymore—Jay dragged on his jeans and shuffled out to the truck. He was still rubbing sleep from his eyes when he stepped into Bart’s and found himself ambushed by Ashlyn.

“We need to talk.”

That woke him right up. “What happened? Is Em okay?”

“She says she is.”

“What does that mean? Is she or isn’t she, Ash?”

“I-I don’t know. Something happened last night.”

Jay’s jaw clenched hard. If his father had—

“We were robbed. On our way to this show
with Mason, we had some car trouble and I . . . I pulled over. And there were these guys. They had a gun.”

“What happened?” Jay felt like he floated in time
, not knowing whether to want or dread the end of that story.

“Everyone’s okay. No one got hurt. But one of them . . . Em didn’t have any money, but they didn’t believe her when she told them that. One of them . . . searched her.”

“He touched her?” How Ashlyn made out the words gritted so harshly between his teeth that he barely understood himself, he didn’t know, but she nodded solemnly. “And Em?”

“She kind of freaked.”

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Jay had barely removed his coat before Ashlyn dropped this shit on him, and he was already pulling it back on.

“When we got hom
e, she went straight to bed. I checked on her first. She swore she was fine. She looked okay. Said she overreacted. Blamed it on not eating anything all day and too much excitement. I just . . . I thought you should know.”

Overreaction, his ass. That was bullshit. That was so much fucking bullshit, and Ash knew it or she wouldn’t be standing there, telling him all of this.

The door opened again behind them and when Mason strode in like he hadn’t a care in the world, Jay lost all control.

“What the hell happened last night?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, shoving Mason against the wall.

“What the hell? Nothing. We got robbed by some thugs, but everyone’s fine. No big deal. Chill out.”

“
No big deal?
You let those assholes put their hands on her and that’s no big deal?” He knew damn well it was a big deal to Em.

“No one got hurt. They just—”

“No one touches Em. You get me? You let
anyone
put their hands on her again and I will rip yours off.”

“All right. I get you.” Mason threw up his hands in surrender.

Jay didn’t have time for this shit. He had to find Em. Part of him knew it was a bad idea. He should leave her alone. But he couldn’t do it. Not after what Ashlyn had just told him. He needed to see her. See for himself if she was okay. Em was good at putting on a show, making people believe she was fine when she wasn’t—she’d done it for years—but he could see through all that crap straight to what was going on behind those damn walls of hers.

Ashlyn was still standing beside the bar,
gaping at him in stunned silence.

“Where is she?”

“My house. She doesn’t work til later.” Her gaze drifted past Jay to Mason and back again. “You know, it wasn’t his fault we—”

“I’m going over there.”

Her attention snapped fully to him. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“I have to see her. Tell Bart I’ll be back in an hour.”

“What if—?”

He didn’t hear the rest of her question. He was already out the door and headed across the lot to his truck. He was only
going to look. Play the creepy stalker for a few minutes, catch a glimpse of her, convince himself she was okay, and go back to work. But when he pulled up to the curb outside Ashlyn’s house and saw her through the bay window, curled up on the couch in a little ball, arms wrapped protectively around herself, staring at a blank TV screen, that plan was shot to hell.

With no clue what he was
going to say, Jay rang the bell and waited. A moment later, the door cracked open an inch and anxious eyes peered out at him. The fear lurking in their depths made him sick to his stomach.

“Jay?” T
he relief in her voice made him want to hit something. If he’d just been there last night . . .

“Em—
”

The door
flung open and before he could get another word out, she flew into his arms. Jay wrapped her up tight, just glad to have her there again, even if only for a minute. Ushering her back into the house, out of the cold, he shut the door behind them.

“Ashlyn told me what happened. Are you all right?”
She stared up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes before becoming intensely focused on her mismatched socks. Fingers knotted in front of her, she shuffled back toward the living room.

It was a stupid question. He didn’t even know why he bothered asking it. One look at her was all it took to know that she was far from all right. But it was the fact that she didn’t want to tell him—to talk to him—that got to him the most. He’d given her no reason to
. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even be there, but he couldn’t let her retreat behind her walls. Not from him.

“Em .
. .” He tailed her into the living room, refusing to have her out of his sight even for a moment. “I know we’re not . . . No matter what we are or aren’t, you can always talk to me, Em. I will always be here for you, no matter what. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I just . . .” She picked up a sofa pillow and tucked it neatly into the corner of the couch. She was hedging. Because she couldn’t say how she really felt.

“Don’t trust me.” It wasn’t any less than he deserved, though it ruptured his heart.

“What? No!” Em spun around, facing him for the first time since they’d entered the
house with disbelief. “It’s not that. Of course I trust you.”

It was selfish, and wrong, and screwed up on just about every level there was, but those words soothed his
wound and made him feel whole again. “Then, what? What is it?”

Em sighed, her dark lashes fanning across her pale cheeks as she hid from the truth. “I feel . . . foolish.”

Jay found he was having a hard time dragging his attention from the way her lips quivered as she spoke. “Why?”

“Because . . .” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, worrying it between her teeth, and Jay was beginning to feel as though he had ADD.

What she was saying was important, but damn, it was distracting when she did that.
Wrong
. That was wrong. She had a boyfriend, for chrissakes. A boyfriend who
wasn’t him
—and that was a sledgehammer to the chest.

She didn’t say anymore. She didn’t need to. The answer was clear in the tense set of her jaw, her
small hands fisted at her sides, her shoulders slumped forward trying to make herself even smaller—invisible.

“Because you’re terrified.” And his heart broke all over again. Th
is girl—this sad, scarred, frightened, beautiful girl—was going to be the death of him.

Em freed her lip—thank God
—and her throat made hard work of swallowing. He watched her fight it. A bystander in her struggle against the truth. But eventually her arms folded around herself and she gave in with a single nod. The admission alone seemed to break her into a million pieces right before his eyes.

“Baby.” That one whispered word was all it took to shatter the walls she was trying so desperately to hide behind, and she collapsed into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Her body shook with sobs as he lowered them both onto the couch. Time passed as he ran his hand over her hair, whispering soothing words of comfort. He had no idea how much time. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the girl in his arms. She was his world, his life, his everything.

“I want to be okay.” Her voice was muffled against his chest and thick with tears.
“I’m sick of being this way. Ashlyn and Mason were both there and they’re fine. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, I just—”

“E
m.” Slipping his fingers beneath her damp chin, Jay tipped her face up until he could meet her watery eyes. “It
was
a big deal for you. It was dark, and you were scared, and they . . .” His teeth ground so tightly together he couldn’t even get the words out. “It stirred up a whole lot of shit you shouldn’t have to deal with anymore.”

“It’s been months, Jay.”

“That doesn’t matter. Everything you’ve been through? That shit doesn’t just go away, Em. You can’t expect it to.”

She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder, taking comfort from the one person who could give it to her. As selfish as it made him, Jay was glad that person was still him.

“I’m just so sick and tired of being afraid.”

“I know.
Things will get easier, Em. You just have to give yourself time.”

“How much time?”

“As much time as it takes. This isn’t a race, baby. You’ll get there, I promise. Don’t give up, Em. Never give up. You’re too strong for that.” He knew she didn’t believe it now, but he didn’t have to prove it. He just had to keep her fighting long enough to prove it to herself.

Jay
pressed a brief kiss to her hair and immediately hated himself for giving in to the impulse. There was a line between friendship and something more. He couldn’t keep sending her these mixed signals. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t even be there. It wasn’t his place anymore. How could he expect her to let go when he kept hanging on?

***

He was back at work for an hour before Em arrived. Jay knew he needed to keep his distance, that going to Ashlyn’s house had been a mistake on his part. He needed to give her space, let her stand on her own two feet, not suffocate her with concern. But he couldn’t bear not seeing her. The constant worry that she was in pain, that she needed him and he wasn’t there, wriggled in the back of his mind like a worm in the mud, burrowing its way in until it consumed his thoughts. He’d been screwing up orders all afternoon and if he didn’t get his shit together, Bart was going to start docking his pay for all the wasted alcohol he’d been pouring down the drain.

When she walked in, it was like a vice that had been clenched around his chest suddenly eased away. He could breathe again. She was there, and she was still in one piece. The cracks were obvious to anyone who cared to look, but she held herself together.
All on her own. So damn strong.

The reminder as to why he couldn’t duck beneath the bar and pull her into his arms like he wanted to
came fast and brutal as Mason met her just inside the door. He looked genuinely concerned about her—and after Jay’s reaction that morning, he damn well should—but the understanding behind that concern was absent. There was a key to her suffering, a missing piece to the puzzle that unlocked those walls and allowed you to see behind them. A key only Jay possessed.

Deep down, Jay knew he couldn’t blame Mason for not understanding, but it didn’t make him want to throttle him any less.
The smile on Em’s face was so plastic she looked like a friggin’ Barbie doll. How the hell could he not see that? He had to be blind not to see how much she was still hurting even if he couldn’t grasp why.

Wh
en he grinned back at her, obviously placated by her BS facade, Jay grit his teeth against the word echoing through his brain.
Idiot!

“What do ya say, Jay, you up for a little fun tonight? My roommate’s out of town for the weekend.”
Sahara strutted by the bar, distracting him from Em’s performance.

“Not a chance
, Sahara.” Grabbing an empty glass, he tossed it in the sink and snapped on the faucet.

Her lower lip jutted out in the most seductive fake pout he’d ever witnessed. That girl could really work it.
“You hurt my feelings, Jay.”

“
Please. I could no more hurt your feelings than a John could hurt a hooker.”

“Ouch. Harsh.” She
cast a coy smile his way. “Yet accurate. You weren’t nearly as good as I thought you’d be, anyway. False advertising.”  With a flip of her bottle blonde hair, she sauntered off, sashaying her hips for everyone at the bar to witness.