“So did I,” he says, “but even then, I never looked as bad as you do right now.”
He slows down for a second, staring at me with more pity than I’ve ever seen him use before – and this is a guy who stops to feed stray dogs. He steps in front of the coffee table and sits down on it, straight in front of me. Finally, he nods.
“So what happened with Haley?” he asks. “No bullshit this time.”
I push a hand back through my hair – the most grooming I’ve done in a week. As much as I hate to admit any of this, it’s time to come clean.
“That night, the one where you and I bumped into Lexi, that scumbag Davis made a bet with me. If I made a hit with Haley in one month, he’d give me Lexi back.”
Jax cocks an eyebrow. “And you won.”
“I won.”
He nods slowly, finally understanding. “But you don’t want Lexi anymore. Do you.”
I sigh— this is way too much to think about on just two quarts of whiskey.
“I don’t know what I feel for Lexi anymore. But I do know that I had pretty much given up on having anything with her ever again. Losing Haley, though…” I shake my head.
“So here’s the part I don’t get,” Jax says. “How did you lose Haley? I thought things were going great.”
I stare at him, using his compassion as a point to fix on, so that I don’t get angry, or depressed, or frustrated, or any of the other negative things that thinking about it makes me feel.
“She found out about the bet.”
Jax takes a moment, then rubs his temples like he’s suddenly got a killer headache as bad as the one I have.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Oh.”
“She thought you were faking all along. Well, damn.”
“I don’t blame her,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. “To top it all off, Rowland – my boss – has us all by the balls. Davis gave us Lexi. Then Rowland threatened me and Haley with his lawyers and forced Haley to sign a deal – with my help. And now I’m supposed to manage both of them.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Ouch. You know, it took a really long time, a lot of days like this, and a whole load of women, before I could even stop dreaming about Lexi. And Haley…I…I don’t know. But this time it’s even worse. I’m so fucking stupid!” I ball my hand up into a fist and slam it on the sofa.
“Jesus, buddy! Calm down. It’s not over. Not yet, anyway.”
“Shit. Sorry,” I say, putting my hands on my face and leaning over to calm myself down. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, dude?”
“Here’s what you do,” Jax says, leaning forward and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t think. Remember when you told me that? Well do it. Just go take a shower, put some clothes on, and come get something to eat. One step at a time. Get yourself off the couch, and then just follow your instincts. Keep on moving. Don’t stop to wonder.”
I let out a sigh.
“That sounds like good advice. But it’s the same damn reasoning that got me into this mess in the first place.”
“Sure it is.” Jax just grins. “And it’s the only thing that’ll get you out of it.”
Chapter 2
Haley
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve written down my dreams when I woke up. From the recurring one about a white horse, to the strange ones about flying through an auditorium. Even the anxiety dreams where I feel like I’m falling, and the nightmares about Freddy Krueger. I’d wake up and write them all. Maybe it was some way of trying to make my dreams come true, maybe it was an attempt to cling to the fantasy and weirdness in my otherwise typical life. At the very least, it gave me a lot of stuff to work from with song lyrics. I’ve done it almost every morning for over ten years.
But not anymore.
I’d like to say it’s because my life this past month has been pretty much a dream come true – which it has – but it’s not. I’d like to say it was because it takes me at least five minutes every morning to remember and realize where I am, in a beautiful new apartment I’m sharing with Jenna – but it’s not that either.
It’s because I keep dreaming about him.
The more I try to suppress it, and the more I try to fill my head with junk so that I don’t have to think about him, the more vivid and explicit the dreams become. It’s gotten to the point where I can almost smell him, taste him. The dreams are different, but the feeling’s always the same. The guilt mixing with ecstasy, the bitterness mixing with sweetness. But in them I can’t help myself. I can’t pull away. It’s only when I wake up, my thighs rubbing together, my hearth thumping, that I feel real enough and strong enough to remember what he did to me. The bet. Then I get angry.
This morning is no different. I wake up and realize my hand is between my thighs, the other against my neck where he was kissing me. I pull them away in annoyance and jump out of bed. I can hear the sound of the juicer outside my room, and Jenna’s voice. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants I push open the door, eager for the distraction of company.