Page 67 of Hey Jude


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Love isn’t part of the equation anymore, but I need to think about the rest of what he said.

And neither can I.

I’m still rubbing my temples in the car with my eyes closed when a knock on my window makes me jump like I was shot. Jace momentarily grins at his accomplishment before returning to his resting annoyed face.

The sunlight makes his eyes glow against the blue scrubs. He’s not hideous. Too bad he’s been an intolerable toad lately or I’d tell him as much.

Staring at him with apprehension, I ask myself if I have the strength for this before I put the window down.

He circles one hand in a “hurry up” motion and rolls his eyes like I’m a continual thorn in his side. Not so long ago, I thought we were close, but I don’t have room in my life for any extra contempt. Volleying with some spiky humor is fine, but it’s been bordering on a lot more than that.

“Can I help you, Mr. Stark?”

“I was instructed to check on you before I leave,Triple Imposter,” he says, returning the jab. It’s what Tony Stark called Natasha when she was taking on different personas in the early Avengers movies … when he asked if there was anything real about her. That stings.

I wince against my will and look away for a second. I try not to show weakness when we spar, but Jace can push my buttons better than most. I was already on edge from the phone call.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he says as he reaches in my window to unlock the door and pull it open. “Nice shoes.” He squats down next to me inside my door, resting his arm across my knee, and I see that he has a cold energy drink and a water bottle in his hand. He gives them to me, and I get a little teary as I accept them.

“Uh, thanks?” I glance at my shoes, not sure what he’s getting at. “You’re still mean,” I say, dropping the drinks into the cupholders.

“You started it. Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah.”

“What?” he demands.

“A cookie,” I confess, and he rolls his eyes again, shaking his head with irritation, like I’m a puppy that keeps chewing up his socks. He really does look like the Robert Downey Jr. meme when he does that.

“I think you’ll be less sensitive to the verbal skirmishes you initiate if you eat real food.”

“Tony Stark isn’t an insult. I love Tony.”

“And I love Natasha. Sorry. Bad timing?” he asks.

“No, it was perfectly timed. Impressive, actually.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He squeezes my knee, making me squeal, and I get the first genuine laugh from him in weeks. “But that pitch was high and tight, so I’m sorry. We have both a gift and a curse.”

“Don’t use a baseball apology on me,” I say, laughing.

“It worked, though. You’re laughing, and you despise me at least fifty percent less.”

“I don’tdespiseyou, Jace.”

“I’ll try harder then. Is the car running all right?” He pauses our verbal dodgeball.

“Yeah, it seems fine. Thanks for checking. I’m going to work now.” He hesitates for a minute, still inside my door.

“I’ll probably regret asking this, but was that your fiancé you were on the phone with?”

“I’m not … yeah, why?” I brace myself for the reply.

“Because you look miserable. Someone who cares about you shouldn’t make you feel that way.” I open my mouth to protest the ironic source of this wisdom, but he puts both hands up. “Stop. Before you proceed, please refer to the aforementioned baseball apology.” He still looks half annoyed but softens when my glassy eyes betray me.I’m tough, dang it. “You know I push your buttons to make you defend yourself, right?”

“Really? I thought it was your way of punishing me because you think I’m using…” My voice cracks. I can’t even say it. I try to blink away the uninvited moisture.

“I don’t, kiddo. I don’t think you’re using Danny. I do think that if you don’t intentionally walk away from what isn’t good for you, both of you will get hurt. You and I throw darts, but you and Danny are shooting arrows, and it’s far more dangerous.” Jace doesn’t pull any punches, and I respect that. Mostly. I kind of hate that he talks to me like I’m ten years younger instead of a year and a half, but I guess that’s his endearing brand of obnoxious. “You’re letting him overdraw your account, kid.”