Chat Page 4

  My calm before the storm.

  “Okay,” I agreed, holding my breath as I dialed my iPhone.

  And I retreated.

  I could barely remember the police arriving, or Jason’s words as he spoke to the officer. I was vaguely aware of my mother helping me to my room, getting me to change out of my robe into yoga pants and a hoodie. She promised me that everything would be okay, and that she’d be with me through it all.

  That she and my dad, and Jason, would never let anyone hurt me again.

  They tried to put me on a stretcher, but when I fought, Jason caught me in his arms, and insisted that he could carry me to the ambulance. “I don’t need an ambulance, I’m fine,” I protested weakly. I hated that my neighbors were watching from the doorway, whispering to my parents as Jason stepped onto the elevator with the paramedics and a police officer.

  I was vaguely aware of Jason talking to the police. He was finally allowed to stay in the ambulance with me, and at the same time the doors closed, waves of fatigue washed over me.

  “Close your eyes.”

  I turned toward Jason’s voice. “My throat hurts.”

  His warm fingers threaded through mine. “Close your eyes,” he repeated.

  I did.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jason

  Sandy lay on the hospital bed, curled on her side.

  She looked so small. Her hair had been wet when I showed up at her apartment, and now it surrounded her face in a soft nest of curls. Mr. Quinn was talking to the doctor, and Mrs. Quinn dabbed at the corner of her eye with a pale pink tissue.

  “Jason, you said he did this to her before?”

  Mr. Quinn’s tone was distinctly accusing. Shamefully, I nodded, glancing his way once before turning back to Sandy.

  “Four months ago. He hit her. They did counseling.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  Her father had the ability to sound both chastising and disappointed at the same time.

  “Jim, she’s thirty-four years old. We’re not kids anymore. As much as I wanted to intervene, it wasn’t my place.”

  “You were there for her tonight, honey,” Molly defended, patting my shoulder before giving me a half-hug. Her caramel eyes were so much like Sandy’s, and I nodded stoically. “Did you hurt your hand? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, Molly. Thank you.” I accepted her gentle hug. “I’ll stay here with her tonight. Both of you, please go home and get some rest. You know I won’t leave her.” I started for the hospital room, and Jim dropped his hand over my shoulder.

  “Jason, thank you.”

  If ever I saw her father close to tears, it was at that moment. I only nodded, moving to Sandy’s side.

  I slept in the chair, bent over her, our noses nearly touching.

  I knew the rhythm of her breathing, and the small sounds that she made while she slept. She moaned softly every so often, and I’d tighten my hold on her.

  Eventually, after the nurse came in around eleven, I slid the chair back and climbed into the bed next to Sandy.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and as she focused on my face, she broke into tears.

  “Shh. My arms are around you, okay? Just me.”

  She said nothing, only moved as close as possible to my chest and drifted back to sleep.

  I decided that, even after everything I’d been through with Elaina, that this had been the worst day of my life.

  I had still been reeling from my chat with Sandy when Carissa messaged me to tell me she wouldn’t be around until tomorrow. I’d sat on the couch with Joplin, thinking about Sandy’s words.

  We’d gotten each other off. Via chat.

  The day had spiraled out of control after that. I’d gotten in my pickup to go get something to eat for dinner. I was minutes away from Sandy’s apartment building when she’d texted.

  Help me

  Inherently, I sensed that something was terribly wrong.

  It’d taken all of my resolve not to kill Numbers. I knew that he’d hit her four months ago; she told me, in a fit of tears, and I’d made sure to speak privately to the asshole and officially threaten his fucking life if he ever touched Sandy again.

  They’d seemed happier over the consequent months, and after asking Sandy how he was treating her for the umpteenth time, she’s finally cut me off. “No more, Brew. We had some issues, but we worked them out.”

  Now, everything had changed in the course of twenty-four hours. I’d spent over an hour answering questions for a police report, Jack was in jail, and Sandy and I had come to a line in our friendship that we’d never intended to cross.

  I couldn’t sleep if I’d tried.

  When she opened her eyes, I was there, and she pressed her forehead against my chest.

  “My throat hurts.”

  “I know, San.”

  “Did he damage anything? Is this… permanent?”

  God, her raspy voice killed me. Just ripped my whole fucking heart right out.

  “Mild laryngeal damage. Your voice will be hoarse for a while.”

  She widened her eyes, reaching for her throat. “I… we have to get to work-”

  “Stop.” I ignored the nurse that walked in, continuing to stare into her eyes. “I’ll get the paperwork together. You’re taking leave. I’ll make sure it’s paid.”

  “Jason,” she whispered.

  I expected her to protest. I waited for her bossy tone.

  Instead, she pressed her forehead back to my chest. “I hate what he did. He ruined everything.”

  I gripped her even tighter, pressing my lips to the crown of her head.

  “He didn’t ruin you, babe. Come here.”

  She couldn’t have come any closer.

  When she was released from the hospital, she went home with her parents. That weekend, I cleaned out her apartment, piling all of her belongings into the back of my pickup and making four trips back and forth to her parent’s house.

  Jack called her cell phone relentlessly. When I finally answered, he pleaded with me, begging just to let him say he was sorry. I gave him detailed instructions about where and when he could go fuck himself, and then had her phone number changed.

  I stayed for dinner at the Quinn’s every night for a full week. Sandy had moved into a state of denial, refusing to talk about Jack, the future, or the situation.

  Carissa and I chatted briefly on Facebook, but I let her know that I was dealing with some family issues and wouldn’t be around much that week.

  Carissa Steel: Aw, I really hope everything is okay. XO

  Jason Brewer: Thanks sweets. Me too.

  She really was a complete sweetheart. Always amiable, friendly, and we kept the chat to easy small-talk about our pasts, where we’d grown up, and our careers.

  When we got on the subject of her book, I mentioned that she wrote really steamy love scenes.

  Carissa Steel: Thanks, lol… yeah, sex definitely sells. Did you… like all the scenarios?

  Jason Brewer: The toys? Hot. Absofuckinglutely.

  Carissa Steel: Haha!

  Jason Brewer: Did you always want to be a writer?

  Carissa Steel: Always. Since I was a little girl. Hey, tell me your address. I want to send you a paperback… and a surprise.

  Jason Brewer: I’d love that.

  Quelling the rumors at the job was next to impossible with the small group that we worked with. Sandy was closest to Jessica Ranier, and Jess had obviously found out what had happened. She cornered me as we both left the building Friday night.

  “Is she okay? Eating? Sleeping? I need to see her,” she rushed. “I know you’re close with her. Come on, Jason.”

  “She’s healing,” I replied carefully. “We can’t talk about this at work, but you can call her. Here’s her new number.”

  I gave Sandy’s new phone number to Jessica, and barely made it out of my car and onto the Quinn’s driveway before Sandy burst through the front door, screaming at me.

/>   “I can’t believe you gave her my number! I don’t fucking want to talk to anybody! What in the hell is wrong with you?” she raged, hurling her iPhone at me.

  I caught the device before it hit the pavement and shattered. “Jesus fucking Christ, San! You have friends; they worry about you! Are you going to hide up there in your old bedroom forever? I thought you’d want to talk to Jess!”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone! I’m embarrassed- no, I’m mortified! I’m just another statistic, just some stupid, ignorant idiot who stayed and got hit, not once, not twice, but three times! I-”

  I cut her off with a look that forced her mouth to snap shut.

  “Three times? Three fucking times?” I teetered on fury, trying desperately not to come back at her with my voice raised. “Why are you embarrassed? Why? He should be humiliated! He hurt you! Sandy.”

  She choked, tears slipping from the depths of her dark eyes.

  “Babe, come here, please come here,” I begged.

  She did.

  I held her in the driveway of her parent’s house, standing in the concrete square where we used to play O-U-T at the basketball hoop. Under the late spring sun, she broke down, crying too hard to stand. I supported her slight weight, noticing she was lighter than only a week ago when I’d carried her to the ambulance.

  “Jason. I loved him. I loved him so much and he…,”

  “He made the biggest mistake of his life.”

  The woman in my arms became the girl I once knew, so young and hurt, and all I could do was comfort her with words.

  “Boss.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I think… we’re ready.”

  She sniffed, turning to press her cheek to my chest. “Ready?”

  “Voorhees. Petron. Pizza.”

  She exhaled a tearful laugh.

  “Yeah.”

  That night, I got Joplin and drove back to the Quinn’s house. The unseasonably warm weather was perfect for sitting out. “Come on, we’re going to the dock. We can watch the movie and sleep in Mom and Dad’s camper.”

  She stuffed a few items into a backpack, following me out to my pick-up.

  I drove us to my parent’s house one street away. My dad met us in the driveway and took our bags, and my mom couldn’t wait for Sandy to open the passenger side door.

  “Come’ere, sweetheart. My heavens, Sandy, honey,” she crooned, taking a moment to tsk at Sandy’s bruised eye, and then her neck and throat. “Tea. With honey and anise. George, put the dog in the backyard.”

  Sandy sent me a fleeting smile before heading into the house with my mom.

  My dad slung Sandy’s backpack over his shoulder, sighing deeply. “Jason. It’s not right, what she’s been through. I know you love that girl.”

  I patted my thigh, waiting for Joplin to join me at my side. “Of course I love her.”

  “Then don’t take no for an answer this time.”

  “Dad.” I gave him a sideways glance, and he shrugged, his hand shaking as he reached to pat my back. I knew his Parkinson’s was acting up; I’d talked to my mom earlier that week.

  “I just call it like I see it.” George Brewer had never been a model of subtlety. I nodded, following him to the backyard.

  After a meat-and-potatoes dinner, Sandy and I lay out on the dock, and I chose the playlist I’d named “Boss Songs.”

  The Black Keys “Ten Cent Pistol” began, and I turned the volume down low enough to hear her speak.

  “Remember that concert last year?”

  Her soft voice mingled with the soulful guitar.

  “Of course I do. We both got drunk as shit and took a blood oath.”

  She laughed, really laughed, rolling onto her side to look at me. “We had so much fucking alcohol in our system, I’m surprised we didn’t bleed to death.”

  “I still have the scar,” I said, holding up the palm of my right hand. “So ugly. Elaina was pissed.”

  She continued to laugh, and I grinned, turning to stare up at the stars.

  “I wish,” she burst, half-laughing, “that none of this had ever happened. That I’d never met Jack, and you’d never met Elaina. And we just fucked off for our entire life. Together. Just… happy.”

  I turned to gaze at her, my pulse racing.

  Inevitably, I thought of our chat session. She’d acted as though it’d never happened, and never talked about it, not once, over the past week. I kept my eyes on hers.

  Silent.

  Finally, she tucked her hand under her head, turning to face me.

  “How are things with Carissa?”

  I shrugged, glancing at the camper. “Okay. We’re just getting to know each other. Random stuff about our jobs, our lives. Nothing heavy. I need a drink,” I added, climbing to my feet. “Come on, it’s movie time.”

  “Okay.”

  Something about her “okay” was suddenly so sexy that my dick decided to grow a mind of its own. I adjusted myself and cleared my throat. The overwhelming protectiveness was a new feeling that I couldn’t shake; I tucked my arm around her shoulders, leading her toward the camper.

  My parents had upgraded their camper two years ago, and this Winnebago was roomier and carried the latest technologies. The flat screen TV was mounted onto the wall, and I connected to the Wifi from the main house.

  “This place is nicer than my apartment,” Sandy breathed, moving toward the kitchen. “God, these cabinets. Oak?”

  “Yeah. And the recessed lighting is nice.” I ran my hand along the beige, leather couch. “Mom and Dad have waited a long time for this.”

  “I’m so happy for them.” She pulled off her hooded sweatshirt, gathering her hair into a ponytail. “They look good. Your dad felt thin though, when he hugged me.”

  I nodded, watching as her breasts pushed against her thin, white t-shirt while she worked at gathering her curls into place. She’d thrown on a pair of those thin, black pants that she wore to yoga every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, and her feet were bare.

  The swelling in her cheek and eye had gone down measurably, but the purple ring that remained refueled my temper every time I looked her way.

  As though she could feel me staring, she gave up on the ponytail and left her hair down to surround her face. “Okay, I think we’re on to number five. A New Beginning.”

  I reached for the remote, nodding toward the bottle I’d picked up from the liquor store earlier. “Do you want to play the game?” We’d usually do a shot for every Jason kill, but she shook her head firmly.

  She stood and began opening kitchen cabinets. “I want to be drunk before the opening credits. And Jason had no kills in this one. It ended up being Roy.”

  “Right. Easy there, boozer,” I chided with a laugh, but I heard the seriousness in her tone.

  “Shot glasses. Check. George Brewer, you’re a man after my own heart,” she murmured my dad’s name as she reached for the glasses.

  As the movie began, we settled onto the couch with an oversized throw blanket. I ordered the pizza to be delivered directly to the backyard, but Sandy ignored the slice I served her.

  Halfway through the movie, we’d both had several shots.

  “You need to eat.”

  She turned to my voice, but only snuggled closer to my chest. “Not hungry.”

  My phone lit up and buzzed on the table before us, and she sat forward.

  “Is that Carissa?” she asked, nodding toward my iPhone.

  I saw the Facebook banner roll across my screen. “Yeah. I’ll talk to her later.”

  “No, don’t do that,” she slurred, sitting up and turning the volume down on the little TV. “Ask her what she’s doing.”

  I could tell by her voice that the alcohol was definitely affecting her. Narrowing my eyes, I typed the response quickly with my phone.

  We half-heartedly watched the movie for about ten seconds, and my phone lit up again.

  Carissa Steel: Just got home from a long day, relaxing in a hot bath. This feels amaaaaa
zing.

  Sandy cringed, and then blew a drunken raspberry as she burst out laughing. “Ah-maaaaaaazing,” she mocked, slurring a lot heavier now.

  “San.” I spoke under my breath, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, ask her if she’s alone.”

  I sighed, typing quickly.

  Jason Brewer: Nice. Are you alone?

  Carissa Steel: All alone. Just listening to some Nickleback.

  Sandy read over my shoulder, and then proceeded to gag theatrically. “Jesus. She’s a douche. A she-douche.”

  “Come on.” I narrowed my eyes, irritated. “Give her a break.”

  “Okay, ask her if she’s holding a book, or if her hands are free?”

  I listened to her, flashing her a slow grin. “That’s good.”

  “So fucking type.”

  Jason Brewer: Are you holding a book, or are your hands free?

  We both waited for what seemed like an eternity.

  Finally, she replied.

  Carissa Steel: I’m holding my phone, silly. But… my right hand is free. I just put it under the water.

  “Thundercats a go!” Sandy whooped, giggling and reaching for the bottle of Patron. “Now we’re talking. Tell her to do what you told me to do.”

  The fact that she brought up our chat floored me. I held my breath, and she tilted her head back to down another shot.

  “This is uncomfortable.”

  “Why? You want to jerk off? I can leave the camper. Or cover my eyes.” She laughed again, those long, dark lashes batting my way. “Or I can help you.”

  Holy fucking hell.

  I’d had a few shots, but it took about five full seconds for me to process what she was suggesting.

  A threesome? With Sandy… and my iPhone?

  “Sandy.”

  “Go on, you’d better write her back. She’s waiting.”

  I took a deep breath, texting rapidly.

  Jason Brewer: What am I seeing?