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I frown. Rose sounds familiar.
She goes on, fiddling with the anchor bracelet around her wrist. “Rose was, is, just like me, like you. She needed a Jacob to fight the demons. That was her plight. Her destiny. She had one. His name was Maximus.”
I suck in my breath, knowing exactly where this is going.
“Maximus trained Rose,” she says. “They worked together as a team, banishing the demons or whatever back to where they came. But over time, or maybe it was in the blink of an eye, I don’t know, Rose and Maximus fell in love. He went rogue for her. Gave up his immortality, his abilities, so he could live the normal life with her. All for her.” She pauses, leveling me with her gaze. “Then she broke up with him. Broke his heart. And he eventually died. The end.”
“Jesus Perry,” I swear. “The other version of this story was a lot better.”
“This is the cold hard truth version reserved for my sister. Do you want that to happen to you and Jay? Do you want him to give up everything for you, so he can die too? No, you don’t. And then what happens? How do you have a normal relationship with someone who can’t die? How do you explain to dad when you’re sixty and he still looks thirty that he just has good genes? He’d be a damn test subject in a matter of seconds, absconded by the government.”
I look away, knowing everything she’s saying is true but I hadn’t let myself think that far ahead. “He makes me feel good,” I admit quietly. “Better than good. You have no idea. It’s like . . .”
“A missing puzzle piece,” she supplies swiftly. “Or a magnet. Your heart to his. Yeah. I get that. But in a case like yours, you have to think long term. Because living in the here and now with our lives doesn’t work. You may be attracted to Jay because he’s good-looking. And maybe he has some bond with you that I never had with my Jacob. But the fact is that you don’t know him, he doesn’t know himself, and you’re just latching onto him because he’s there. He understands you like no one else can.”
But isn’t that worth holding onto?
“You need to talk to Rose,” she goes on. “I can put you in touch with her.”
“That’s Maximus and Rose,” I tell her. “That’s not Ada and Jay. And it’s not Dex and Perry. Every single one of our situations is different, every single soul is different.”
“Except for those who don’t have one.”
I still, my heart rejecting her words. “Jay has a soul.”
“Whose soul does he have then?”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” I tell her, pushing past and storming back to the restaurant. I have enough on my plate as it is, I don’t want to doubt Jay any more than I have to.
Back inside I avoid Jay’s eyes and make excuses over the pasta. I pass on the espresso being served after dinner and manage to stealthily drink Rebecca’s shot of Sambuca she had second thoughts on.
But from the restaurant and all the way back to their apartment, all I can think about is Jay. And he sits right beside me, like a ghost, locked in his own head and haunting himself.
Fat Rabbit greets us like he did before—excited wiggles for me, barking at Jay. This time Jay seems to take it to heart. I’d never seen his face crumble, like the dog was hurling violent insults his way.
We retire to bed. Dex and Perry scoop up the pooch and take him into their bedroom. Jay takes the couch. I go into the guest bedroom.
I’m lying here now, knowing that Jay’s eyes followed me as I came in here. I could almost feel him flinch when I shut the door. I can feel him even now, this living breathing extension of myself. He calls to me whether he means to or not, the promise of our bodies fusing together, erasing our cares. I want to be back in that hotel room, where his pleasure was the only thing I had to care about.
That’s the effect of sleeping with him, my brain pipes up. That’s the consequence. Losing yourself in him as he loses himself in you.
Good lord, it’s like I have a catholic school lecture going on inside my head.
I shake it loose and bring out my phone from beside the single bed, unable to sleep anyway.
The room is small, crammed full of computers and Dex’s equipment, plus a bookshelf and music memorabilia. Despite the cramped quarters, the space glows ominously in the electronic light and I have the creepy feeling the shadows just outside of the glow are moving.
Crawling.
Creeping.
Closer and closer.
I have to keep pausing whatever fashion account I’m stalking and shine the light around, paranoid that there’s something really there. I can almost hear it breathing when I’m not paying attention, but the moment I listen, it stops.
