All I can do is fight back the tears. Despite hating how vulnerable I feel and how much it hurts to watch him leave, I understand where he’s coming from.
He steps into my space, cupping my face with his free hand, gently brushing his thumb along my cheek. “Give me a couple of days, okay? And then we can talk.”
The tenderness in his voice almost breaks me and I just nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, he turns and walks out the door.
I’m still standing in the doorway long after his motorcycle has disappeared down the drive and the sound of the engine has faded into silence.
Goonie winds around my ankles, meowing softly.
A single frustrated tear escapes, and I swipe it away. “Don’t worry, pudge. He’ll be back.”
FIFTY-ONE
ryder
Jax’s houseis located on the outskirts of town. When I pull into his driveway, I cut the engine, and just sit on my bike.
Not only is my body heavy with exhaustion after riding most of the night, my mind is a fucked up mess of emotions.
The front door swings open before I make it up the walkway. Dressed in basketball shorts and a faded Metallica T-shirt, Jax’s hair is sticking up in all directions like he just rolled out of bed.
“Dude. You look like shit.”
“Fuck you.” I shoulder past him into the house. “Thanks for the warm welcome, dick.”
Jax chuckles.
His apartment is exactly what you’d expect from a single guy in his thirties—worn but relatively decent furniture, a massive 80-inch flat-screen mounted on the wall, and a couple of empty beer bottles still sitting on the coffee table.
I drop my duffel bag on the floor next to the couch and collapse onto it, scrubbing my hands over my face.
“Thanks for letting me crash.”
“Not a problem.” He eyes me suspiciously. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on? You and your girl have a fight?”
He moves into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge.
I blow out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” He tosses me a beer before cracking one open for himself. “You two were all over each other at the party.”
I tip my head back and stare up at the ceiling. How do I explain my current situation without sounding like I’ve lost my mind? There is no way I can tell him I’m actually fictional, and that until I showed up he probably didn’t exist either.
“Yeah.” I take a long pull from the bottle. “But it’s... fuck, I don’t even know where to start.”
Jax flops down in the recliner across from me. “Start with why you’re here instead of balls-deep in your hot writer girlfriend.”
I shoot him a glare.
He just shrugs and grins before taking a swig of his beer.
“When I first moved in with Noia, it was just to help with her writer’s block while my apartment was being renovated,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “She’d been stuck for weeks after her asshole ex left her at the altar.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“Well, what I came up with to help, worked. She’s been able to start writing again.” I pick at the label on my beer bottle. “But somewhere along the way, things got... intense.”
