My stomach tumbled a little. “He didn’t—”
“No! He didn’t. It was the opposite.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. I put a hand on her arm and squeezed. “He apologized and cried and begged . . .” She shook her head. “He got angry at the end, but I left before it could go any further.”
“Good.”
She looked up, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you on Sunday and for what happened when I came back with Erik. I do think it was an accident, but it shouldn’t have happened because when he gets angry, he doesn’t think.”
“Is that what made you break up with him?”
“Yes. And no.” She cleared her throat. “When Jase confronted him Wednesday morning and I found out that your knee was completely blown—”
“Jase confronted him?” I cut in, feeling my eyes widen as I stared at her.
She nodded. “He showed up right before we were leaving for classes. I didn’t know he’d hurt you that badly.”
I waved that off, feeling my pulse pick up. “What did Jase say to him?”
“Not much really. Jase told him that if you ever ended up hurt again, that he’d pretty much put him in a grave. Erik was in a mood.” Reaching up, she tugged her ponytail down. “He mouthed off and called you . . . called you a nosy bitch who needed to stay away from me.”
I didn’t give two shits what Erik said about me, but my stomach fell out of my butt.
“Jase didn’t take to that well,” she continued. “Neither did Erik’s face when it was all said and done.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I fought for breath as I flashed hot and cold. Images of Jase’s knuckles rushed through my head. He’d gone after Erik. Just like Cam had gone after Jeremy. In a way, history had totally repeated itself. Anger and disappointment and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge crashed together inside me.
“You okay?” Deb asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Things are going to be so much better now for you.” My voice was hoarse as I focused on what was important right now, which was Debbie, and not what Jase had done. “I really do mean that.”
“I know.” She hugged me tightly, and when she pulled away, the tears had dried. “My life starts over now, and I only have good things to look forward to.”
Nineteen
Debbie and I had stayed up late talking. At first it had been hard to hear about how Jase had confronted Jeremy the morning I believed he’d been with Jack. Maybe he’d done both. Not that it mattered, because it didn’t change anything. But eventually I told Debbie everything about Jeremy. I watered down Cam’s reaction, but it still felt so, so damn good to get it off my shoulders. To share what it had been like with someone who could truly understand. And Deb told me about the good times, the bad times, and the downright horrifying moments. There were moments when I could sense that Deb was having doubts and that was natural. They’d been together for years and sometimes it was hard to let someone go, even if he was a sociopath. People who hadn’t been in a situation like we’d been in just wouldn’t understand. They’d think we were stupid and weak, but the smartest and strongest girl could fall prey to a poison-tongued charmer.
And there had been tears—cleansing tears. The kind that renewed instead of hurt.
I ended up sleeping late on Friday; when I was up, Deb told me she was going to visit her parents and break the news. I wished her luck—luck that I needed.
I’d ended up canceling the lunch date, Debbie had left the dorm, and Jase was now minutes away from picking me up for dinner—for our first real honest-to-goodness date—and all I could think about as I waited outside, holding my crutches, was that he’d done nearly the same thing my brother had done.
I still hadn’t worked out how I felt about what he did, if I should be as angry as I felt or if I should be angrier? Jase knew the kind of guilt I carried around because of what Cam had done.
When Jase pulled up to the curb, he hopped out and came around the front of the Jeep. He was wearing jeans and a dark V-neck sweater that somehow made me feel underdressed in my jeans and cardigan. No matter what he wore, he looked damn good, like he was ready to step off the pages of GQ. Not like every other guy around; they all looked like they belonged in a Sears catalog.
He helped me in, taking the crutches and then holding my arm as I climbed up. Waiting for me on the dashboard was a square pink box. I picked it up and glanced at him.
“For dessert,” he said, grinning.
I didn’t want to pop the lid, but the light brown frosting looked tasty. “What flavor?”
“Guess?”
“Chocolate?”
“Boring,” he said, easing away from the curb. “It’s peanut butter icing and filling.”
“Oh.” Momentarily distracted by the awesomeness that was peanut butter and chocolate, I was tempted to crack the bad boy open and devour it.