I shook my head. “What?”
She sat on the edge of the bed and wrestled with her shirt again. “I was struck by lightning.”
I yanked her shirt off once it was over her head. I guess the Princes shirt I got her, though amazing-looking on her tits, was a bit too tight. I’d get her a bigger one. “Seriously, Jessalyn? You survived?”
There she sat, shrunken and slumped forward on my bed, in just her bra and underwear. And her socks, randomly. She was stunning, but she was so sad that I wasn’t focused on how much of her I was seeing. “I survived. My best friend died.”
My mouth fell open as a sob choked her. “Oh, Jessie. That’s terrible. How old were you?”
“Thirteen. At summer camp.” I sat next to her and wrapped her up in a hug. She shrugged me off. “I hardly ever cry about it. I’m usually fine. I usually just try not to show my back.”
“You don’t have to be fine with me, hon,” I said, squeezing her shoulder. “Is this why you have nightmares?”
She nodded, wiping her tears with her hands, then on her legs. “Always storms. I always lose her again. It’s part of why I like living here. Fewer storms.”
She sucked up her tears, but the sadness hadn’t left her. I knew it probably took a lot for her to share that with me. I thought about how she said the most peaceful thing in her life was from summer camp, too. Probably from before she lost her friend.
Poor little girl Jessie.
I went into caretaker mode. I’d been a breakup helper for Kitty in college. I’d helped Jessie with her feelings about Cole. I could be a childhood trauma helper, too, right? This was a thing friends did, right? “Which of your little jammie sets do you wanna wear?”
Her tear-stained eyes met mine. “Can I wear your shirt?”
Chapter 25
Mikey
Jessie actually slept in. I woke up to her arm and leg thrown over me, her face tucked into my shoulder. Her breath was fucking awful but she was so cute cuddled up to me that I forgave it.
It had taken me a while to fall asleep. I was buzzed off the day: all of Jessie’s kisses, her trauma with the storms, and I couldn’t stop fixating on how mean Cole was to Jessie. My mind stewed the same few facts over and over: him calling her a whore, her notbeing allowed to eat tuna in his holy presence, him picking on her for wanting flavored coffee, him not wanting to marry her, and worst, him cheating on her. If she hadn’t stopped me, he was in to get knocked out by a Mikey knuckle sandwich. No one gets to treat my Jessie that way and get away with it. I plotted my revenge instead of counting sheep.
While I waved my mom and Aunt Lori off at 5:30 a.m. and put them in an Uber, I noticed Jessie’s car on the street, covered in bird shit. I mean like solid lines of bird shit all up and down her car. That just wouldn’t do.
Trying to move fast before she woke up, I went back upstairs and got her keys off the hook by the door. I took her car through the car wash and filled up her tank. I went to my favorite coffee shop and got us each a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I stopped by the grocery store when it opened and found a cheesy card, plus some items I needed for my revenge plot.
I got back and stopped by our building’s office to get one more thing for Jessie, then headed up to pack for the team’s road trip.
With a little pit stop next door.
I knew Cole went out for his stupid weekend run on Saturday mornings, a fact Jessie had confirmed when she was complaining about him at one point. Running isn’t intrinsically stupid, but Cole is, so it’s his stupid little run. Either way, he was due to be out of his apartment. I unpacked what I needed from the grocery bags, listened at the door, and used Jessie’s key to go in. If I got caught, I was screwed. I had plans to tell him I was grabbing something Jessie forgot as a cover. But if I succeeded? He got every last thing he deserved.
Jessie was starting to wake when I got back home. I placed her hazelnut latte and breakfast sandwich on the nightstand, along with two ibuprofen. She grumbled as I sat them down.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“Hey,” she croaked.
“How you feelin’?”
“Pain.”
“Here.” I placed the two pills in her hand and gave her the Princes water cup I’d gotten for her. She always complained about her glass sweating when she put ice in it, so a stainless steel monstrosity seemed to be the cure.
“Thanks.” She flopped back on her pillow. “I was pretty bad, wasn’t I?”
The corner of my lips lifted as I sat on the edge of the bed. “You were fine. I wanted you to cut loose for a night. You’re always so uptight.”
“Oh God. Did I kiss—? Was I all over you?”
