“Hey, man. Whatcha doing?” I ask, trying to stay casual. Trying to pretend I’m not sweaty and terrified watching him.
“Trying to feel something.”
“How’s that going?”
“Eh. It’s just a pretty view.”
Not good, then. I note that he’s not wearing any shoes and spend a second wondering how damaged his feet are after his forty-minute barefoot walk here. With a cat.
“Want to come down?” I ask.
He sighs, so big it’s like all twenty-two years of breath come out at once. “No, not really.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To feel something.”
I get Fluffington’s attention, and he leaps from the ledge, winding between my legs instead. At least I don’t have to worry about the cat tripping Jansen and causing an accidental dive to ground level.
Now, my only worry is a purposeful dive. “I want that, too,” I say.
He grips the edge, leaning out, and my hands clench into my jeans, uncertain if I should risk grabbing him, or if that would startle him over that last bit. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it to New Year’s,” he says, half dangling over the edge.
“You might need some help.”
The silence is perfectly terrible as his muscles flex and release, rocking him over the edge and back, fear scratching at my skin like dried clay splatters.
“Clara needs help,” he says, eventually.
“Can you help her right now?”
“No. Not right now.”
“Then let me help you, so you can help her.”
He rocks over the edge again, lingering in a bow shape, his hands and feet attached to the tower while his center hovers over nothing.
Fluffington yowls at me, asking for pets, but I can’t pay attention to the cat. Not when his human is so close to the edge.
Physically and metaphorically.
Jay looks back at me over his shoulder, his face cast in shadow. “How?”
“Let me take you to the hospital, Jay. Just see what they say. You’re an adult—they can’t make you do anything. But you need help. Real help. Waiting for things to get better isn’t going to fix this, not this time. Clara needs you healthy. So does RJ, and me, too. Fuck it, the cat needs you healthy, Jay. So get down from there so we can find something to make you feel better.”
His gaze tilts down to the cat, the angle all wrong, and with a long breath, he falls backwards into the safety of the observation area. He slams onto the floor with none of his usual grace, a groan following as he grips one shoulder.
But he’s down, and I rush to his side, getting between him and the ledge he’d been perched on.
“Come on. Let’s get you fixed up,” I say, offering him a hand.
And once he has his giant, purring feline in his arms, he takes it.
Chapter 66
Clara
Ibarely make it into the mansion without vomiting from pain. Falk drags Trips away as soon as we’re through the door, but before I can wonder if I’m going to be locked up again, a flurry of limbs wraps around me.
