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How long do broken hearts last? A month? Two? When will this crushing weight come off my chest? When will I wake up in the morning and not immediately think ofJake?
It’s pitiful.
And now I don’t even have a car. It’s a good thing I was able to save most of the money I made from working at the Anders Group. If not for that, I’d be in trouble. Since I now have a small amount in savings, I should at least be able to put a down payment on a semi-decent used car. Until I can find something, I guess I’ll have to take the subway.
I wonder where Jess went. She told me that she had an errand to run and would be back in an hour. It’s been almost two hours, and I can’t find my phone to call her. It’s surprising that she left me alone at all, considering how she’s been hovering over me since my accident. Even though the damage to my car was pretty bad, I was left with very small injuries. That hasn’t stopped Jess from fussing over me constantly. I was almost relieved when she told me she had to leave for a bit. I didn’t even think to ask her where she went.
Pounding on the door interrupts my search for my phone.
“Lana! Open up.” I hear a brisk voice from the other side of the door.
It’s Jake.
I’m so glad he can’t see my face through the closed door. Hearing his voice has me going through a myriad of emotions. Fear. Happiness. Concern. Confusion.
Yes, confusion. Why is he here?
I go to the door and yank it open.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” I demand, with no softness in my voice.
“What happened? Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He pushes past me and into my apartment without waiting for an answer. I reluctantly close the door behind him. When he turns to look at me, I’m startled by his wild appearance. His eyes are wideand frantic. His hair is mussed, as though he’s been running his hands through it. He obviously hasn’t shaved in days. But the panic is what I see most of all.
He’s looking me up and down in a frantic search. His eyes stop on the small splint I have on my wrist. His eyes narrow as they reach my face, and he notices the cuts and bruising on my forehead and cheek.
“Jake, I’m fine. Why are you here?” I ask again.
“Jessica came to my office. She told me that you were in an accident. She said you broke your arm and have a concussion.”
“Well, I sprained my wrist, and yes, I have a concussion. It’s not a big deal. The doctor put me under a twenty-four-hour concussion watch, and that time is almost up, so I should be good to go soon. If that’s what you needed to hear, you can leave now.”
“You need to sit down. You shouldn’t be walking around with a concussion. Why did Jessica leave you here alone?”
“I don’t know, but I will talk to her when she gets home. She had no right to go to you.”
“She was dropping off your car,” Jake explains.
“It’s not mine; it’s yours. I don’t want anything from you.”
He sighs and looks uncertain, as though he doesn’t know how to respond. “If it’s the issue with the insurance cost, I’m taking care of it.”
“I don’t want your money. I don’t want your car. I don’t want anything at all from you. I just want you to leave,” I say through clamped teeth. He sure knows how to offend a person. I’m doing my best to appear calm, though I’m seething inside. How dare he think he can just throw money and cars at me—the insensitive jerk.
“Can you please sit down?” he asks softly. “You’re making me nervous standing there.”
Just then, I notice his pale complexion and tense posture. By his tight and drawn face, I can tell that he’s really nervous. Reluctantly, I sit down on the sofa and lean my head back onto the cushion. Despite my act of bravado, I do have a really bad headache. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
“Fine. But I’m good now. Stop pretending to care. I’m no longer yours, so no need to worry. Just lock up when you leave.”
He levels a worried look at me, then grabs a pillow and leans me forward so that he can put the pillow behind my back. He gets a blanket from the chair and puts it over my legs. His touch is light, and he takes care not to jostle me as he moves around. All the while, I am speechless as I watch him. He heads into my kitchen, but I’m too tired and sore to turn around to see what he’s doing. I hear him going through cabinets and running water.
He comes up beside me and runs his hands down the side of my head, his fingers lingering in the strands of my hair. “Do you have a headache? I can get you some medicine.”
I shake my head to tell him no, but the movement causes the pain in my head to worsen, and I unknowingly wince.
“Don’t bother denying it. I see that you’re in pain. Hang on a second, and I’ll get you one of your pills.”
His voice is gentle and soothing. I almost think he may care. But of course he doesn’t. After all, I know why he’s here.
