Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“I’ll make sure he does,” I add, and I say that for CJ. I know he still cares.
Then I take off after Jake.
I rush out of the hospital and push around people and book it through the lot, yelling Jake’s name when I spot him near the back where we parked.
He’s almost at the driver’s side door, but he pauses when he hears me.
“I’ll drive,” I say, getting between him and the car. “Let me drive, Jake.”
He doesn’t look at me as he presses the keys into my hand. He doesn’t say a word either.
“Listen. Your brother didn’t mean any of that. He’s just upset, you know? People say stupid shit when they’re upset.”
Jake doesn’t acknowledge what I’ve just said. He keeps his eyes downcast.
“None of this was your fault, Jake.”
I cup the side of his face that isn’t sore and swelling, and he winces like it hurts. I watch a tear leak out of his eye.
“Baby. It’s okay.”
He sniffles and pulls away from me before I can haul him close, and I watch him move around the car and climb in. Our eyes never meet.
Then the door slams and I flinch.
And I know that wasn’t him reacting to me calling him “baby” for the first time. That’s not why Jake walked away from me either. Bigger things are going on right now. This has nothing to do with me, and I know that.
But my stupid brain…
Christ. Come on, Felix. You’re his sponsor. And his boyfriend. It’s your responsibility to say the right things that’ll somehow make this shitty situation better.
Don’t make this about yourself.
And do not blow this.
I get in the driver’s side and start up the car, and I try to think of something, anything to say as I pull out of the space and navigate us through the parking lot and out onto the main road.
Something Dean-like, because wouldn’t he be the best person in this moment? Probably.
(Jake can’t know that.)
But everything that comes to mind seems silly and insignificant, like how hot Jake’s face still looks, despite the swelling. Or better yet, how that’s somehow enhancing his overall attractiveness.
That’s so fucked up. I shouldn’t tell him that.
Get punched more. I’m into it.
How about the fact that we get to be roommates now. Because Jake’s obviously moving in. Even if he had somewhere else to go, I’d insist on him staying with me after what was just said back there. And I could spin this so it sounds positive and promising.
We get to have sleepovers every night!
Think of all the sex we’ll get to have!
My hands tense around the wheel.
Why am I so terrible at this?
“I’m driving you to get your stuff,” I finally settle on, because sharing my obvious plans with Jake is better than anything else I’ve been thinking about saying. “You can move in with me. It’s not like I don’t have the room, you know? It’ll be me, you, and Bella. Holy shit, she’ll probably love this. She’ll have a roommate now she doesn’t hate.”
I look over and watch Jake stare out his window.
“We’ll move you in and then go to our meeting. Okay?”
Nothing.
No response. Not even a little head jerk, letting me know he’s on board with this or even hearing me.
I clench my teeth and go back to focusing on the road.
I don’t know what else to say. I’m still absolutely terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Some sponsor I am.
No. You know what? Fuck that.
I might not be as good as Dean is in moments like this, and I may never be, but I at least know what I would want right now if I were Jake.
Especially if it came from someone who cared about me.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I reach over and grab onto his hand, and I’m fully prepared to be the only one holding on right now. Whatever he needs me to do, I’ll do it.
But I’m not. At all.
And now I know I’m doing the right thing, because even though I was the one initiating the contact, it’s Jake who grabs on to me so severely, our joined hands tremble, and his blunt nails dig deep into my skin.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, squeezing just as hard as he is now.
Our eyes lock, and a shuddering breath leaves him.
“I promise, Jake.”
He holds our hands together in his lap.
We’re silent the rest of the drive.
It doesn’t take long for Jake to pack up his stuff, or for me to gather the few things of mine he had grabbed for me (back when things were fucked, but not as fucked), and within the hour, we get Jake moved out of his brother’s house and over to mine.
After I park, I’m slower than usual approaching the house, and I really hope Jake doesn’t notice.
It’s my first time back here since I relapsed, but not the first time I’ve felt uneasy coming home.