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I’m still confused, her words aren’t quite clicking in my brain.
“Oh, there he is, he’s waiting by your car.”
I look up, relieved to see Jay leaning against my driver’s side door. Then the earlier part of the night comes rushing back in.
“Thanks, Daya, for checking on me. I’ll be okay.” I hug her, glad that I’ve never had any trouble receiving touch from women. My problem has only ever been with men. An issue that has haunted me for more than half a decade.
She closes the back door behind me, leaving me and Jay by ourselves in the back lot. I walk toward him but stop a comfortable distance away. I still need space. My panic attack wasn’t caused by him, but the wound is still fresh, and my rejection is still raw from earlier.
“Are you okay?” His hands are shoved into his pockets but his eyes are assessing every inch of me from under the brim of his hat.
“I’m fine.” Says every woman ever who isn’t fine.
“Did he hurt you?” He asks through gritted teeth as if it pains him to even think about it.
“No. I don’t know.” I examine my wrist, not paying attention to it up until this point. It’s tender, but I know it’s not broken. I’m sure I’ll have a bruise tomorrow. I rotate it, examining my skin in the streetlight, but not being able to see if the coloring has already started to change.
“You need to ice it.”
“Is that what I need? Thanks.” I can’t hide my annoyance at his sudden concern after ignoring me earlier.
“You need to stop working at this damn bar,” he practically growls.
“I need the money.”
“I need you to be safe.” He rubs his hand through his hair, looking exasperated with me. Or himself? It’s hard to tell.
“Why? You hardly know me.” You’ve been radio silent for days. I want to add, but don’t.
“I want to, Sunshine,” he admits almost painfully.
“Well. We don’t always get what we want,” I reply harshly.
“Thea. I’m sorry.”
I still don’t even know when he learned my real name, but somehow it stings every time he uses it.
“For what?”
“Everything. I can’t explain all of it right now, but I need you to know that I’m not intentionally trying to hurt you.”
“You acted like I was a stranger in there.” I throw my hand out, waving at the bar.
“I know and I’m sorry. It killed me to do it, but I can’t tell you why.” He folds over, bracing his hands on his knees before sinking to the gravel. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain crossing his features. I hear a grumbled “fuck,” as he rubs his head.
“Are you okay?” Despite my confusion and hurt over his absence the last few days, I can’t deny that I care. I can tell something isn’t right. He looks like he’s falling apart.
“Does your brother know that you work at this bar?”
My brother? Where the hell did that come from?
“No, he doesn’t know. Why?” He doesn’t respond, he just closes his eyes again and shakes his head before standing up and dusting his pants off. “Jay? What is going on?”
“Please, don’t call me that.” It’s all he says before he walks away, not looking back or giving me a chance to register what the hell just happened.
“Call you what?” I shout at his retreating back.
* * *
