Jace quickly signs, “Please don’t look so sad.”
“But what about Tony?” I sign. “He’s going to report me.”
Jace shakes his head. “No, he isn’t.”
“What? But he said he was going to.”
“And I convinced him not to.”
I blink hard, not understanding. Tony had been so mad. There’s no way he’d just walk away and not report me.
“What’d you say to him?” My stomach churns as I ask the question. I don’t really want to know the answer, do I? The only way Jace could have scared away Tony is with some sort of threat, and probably a pretty severe one. And I don’t like that angry side of Jace.
Jace chuckles at my nervous expression and kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t threaten his life or anything.”
Sweetheart. I remember the first time he called me that, and how scathing and demeaning it had seemed. Now it seems the exact opposite, and the smile that forms as he signs it makes a little of my cold dread melt away.
“What did you tell Tony?” I repeat.
“I told him the truth.”
I jerk back from him. Is he serious? He can’t just go around blabbing about my abusive situation. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.
Jace shakes his head and gently wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me back to him. “I didn’t tell him anything you wouldn’t have wanted me to.”
“Then what the hell did you tell him?”
Jace chews at his lip, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty. He releases me from his grasp, slowly raising his hands to sign, “I told him that I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. I said that I’m going to stand by you, and that if he reported you, he’d take both of us down.”
I stare blankly at his hands, certain I’ve misread what he signed. But he’s smiling at me now, and the tender look in his eyes tells me that I saw everything right.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Then I hesitantly sign, “You really think that will work? He won’t report me?”
Jace bites his lip. “He promised not to report you today, since he wants tonight’s concert to happen without any drama. And he wants to meet with me and the rest of the band tomorrow and discuss what to do. But we’ll convince him not to tell anyone you’re with me. I’m sure of it.”
He wraps me back in his arms, pulling me against his chest and pressing his lips against the top of my head. I squeeze him back tightly, silently hoping Tony keeps his promise and stays quiet for now. We stay there for a minute, until Jace hesitantly pulls away from me, freeing his hands.
“I need to go now,” he signs. “Tony is furious enough without me being late to our rehearsal.”
“When will you be back?”
“Not until really late,” he signs. “We’re doing a publicity event at a club right after the concert. So I won’t be back here until early morning.”
I nod and try not to show my disappointment. With the threat of Tony reporting me looming over my head, waiting around alone in the RV is going to be even harder than usual. Jace frowns at my anxious expression and presses a firm kiss against my lips.
“I meant what I told Tony,” he signs, and then reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. “I’m usually no good at commitment, but this is different. You’re different. I’m not just going to let you go. Not unless you want me to.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to go.”
He nods seriously and kisses my forehead. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”
31
ALI
JACE STUMBLES INTO the RV around 12:30, and I immediately know something is wrong. His steps are heavy and uneven, like he’s drunk. Wasn’t he supposed to get back way later?
He heads straight to the room with the couches, where I’ve been waiting all evening. He texted me earlier not to bother staying up for him, but I’ve never been very good at listening. I’ve been an anxious ball of nerves ever since Tony found me, and since there’s no chance of me getting sleep, I want to spend every moment I can with Jace.
Those plans go flying out the window as soon as Jace steps closer. In the dim light of the lamp, his skin gleams with sweat, and the whites of his eyes are red. I jump up from the couch and run to his side, wrapping my arms around his waist to steady him a little. He’s so unstable, I’m afraid he’s going to topple right over.
“How many did you have?” I demand. It seems really weird that he’s drunk; he never drinks. Never, ever. He’s made that more than clear.
Jace blinks at me a few times and squints, like he can’t figure out what I’m doing in his RV. “What? How . . . how many of what?” His words are slurred, and it’s nearly impossible to read his lips.
I let out a frustrated sigh and guide him toward the couch. He’s totally, utterly smashed. Tomorrow morning is so not going to be pleasant . . .
“Drinks,” I answer. “How many drinks did you have?”