Chapter Ten: Jay

“Shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.”
Jay slammed the palm of his hand into the steering wheel, ignoring the throbbing pain that shot up his arm. The engine revved and the needle on the speedometer hovered around the number ninety-three. He eased his foot off the gas pedal, careful to keep it under eighty. Getting pulled over right now would be the worst of fates. If it were something he could control, he would damn well do it.
He had escaped, barely. Or should he say, they had escaped? Jay was still trying to process whatever had just happened back in the motel parking lot. In a moment of desperation, he’d released Addy and backed away. He’d given her an out, and she hadn’t taken it. No, she’d turned to him then, tears streaming down her face, and she’d asked him to take her with him.
Jay took a calming breath and steadied his foot on the gas, careful to keep himself under control. Panicking was not how to go. Panic was the best way to get caught—to get killed. Every moment he was free was just one step closer to the end of the game. He had somewhere to be, and nothing would stop him.
In the passenger’s seat, Addy was awake, but she had said nothing since their escape. She was staring out the windshield, silent and unblinking. She’d barely moved, let alone explained herself, and a few times Jay looked over at her to make sure she was still breathing. Maybe she was in shock. He certainly was.
The clock on the dash read 5:43. They’d been driving for over two hours, and the sun was coming up over the horizon. He’d have to put gas in the car soon, only now he’d have to be extra careful. Every moment that passed was putting him at greater risk of being found, especially with the girl along for the ride. He was wanted, she was missing, the car was stolen, and it would all be handed over wrapped up in beautiful glitter wrapping paper with a bow on top for the feds if he wasn’t careful.
“Addy,” he said. She didn’t look at him. She barely moved. “Why did you come with me? Why didn’t you go to the cops?”
No answer. Jay looked back toward the road and sighed, trying to clear his head. Was she up to something? Did she have some plan to turn him in? No, that couldn’t be it. Whatever the reasoning Addy had behind getting into the car with him was on her.
“You need to talk to me,” Jay said. “You need to speak right fucking now, Addy, before I pull this car over and dump you off.”
Silence.
Jay’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He wanted to shake her, to yell in her face, to ask her what she was up to and why. His paranoia was getting the best of him now, and he couldn’t stop wondering what was about to happen next with her.
“Jay,” Addy said finally, after what seemed like an eternity.
“What?”
“I have to pee.”

Addy wasn’t stupid. She knew Jay wanted an explanation. He wanted to know why she had made a conscious decision to get into the car with him and not fall into the safe arms of a police officer. He probably thought she was up to something, had some plan to get him captured like she was now the one playing a game of cat and mouse. He wanted an answer, and she didn’t have one for him; she didn’t even have one for herself.
“Hurry up,” Jay said as he followed her into the restroom inside the gas station they’d found. “This is what you bring on yourself for needing to be involved, Addy. Do you want to be here? Congratulations, this is what you get.”
“You can wait outside,” she said. “I won’t be long.”
“Whatever the princess wants,” Jay said, turning to leave.
“Don’t call me that,” Addy said sharply. “You don’t know anything about me or my life, so stop pretending that you do.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. He was right, she was choosing to be here, so what right did she have to argue with him?
“Princess Addy with the perfect rich-bitch life,” Jay said. “Why you don’t want to go home is beyond me.”
“Fuck you,” she said. Jay pushed himself away from the door and lowered his face to hers. His eyes were flashing, and for a split second Addy almost shielded herself from his rage, but Jay didn’t even raise a fist.
“Afraid I’m going to hit you?” he said. “Sorry, I’m not a woman beater. That’s your lover’s department.”
Rage erupted in Addy, a rage she had only ever felt in the darkest moments in her life. Before she could think to stop herself, she reeled her arm back to punch him in the face, more than ready and eager to hear the crack of his nose under her hand. The pain would be worth it. The punishment would be worth it. Hell, a broken fucking hand would be worth it.
As her fist came forward, Jay’s hand snapped up with surprising speed, and he seized her wrist, ducking half a foot to the side to dodge her imminent threat. She was caught off guard, but still angry, and she reeled back her free arm to try again. Too late. Now, Jay had both wrists in his hands, pulling her body up against his chest to keep her steady.
“I fucking hate you!” She tried to yank away from him, but it was no use. He pulled her into him, and she was so close to his body now that their hips nearly met. The stubble growing on his chin would feel scratchy beneath her palm; she had only to reach out. And she wanted to touch him, run her hands over his face and arms and put her head on his chest and just break down and cry.
They were mere inches apart, Addy drawn in by Jay’s grip on her. Her forearms rested against his chest, and she could make out the beat of his heart against her body even through the jacket. They stared at each other for a long moment. Addy moistened her lips, swallowing, so caught up in the moment she almost fell into his arms. But then, Jay’s grip on her loosened, and he smiled that irritating, smug smile. Briefly, she considered having another go at it.
“I don’t think you hate me as much as you hate yourself,” he said. Still holding onto one wrist, he reached forward to push up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Panic boiled in her chest as Addy made another feeble attempt to pull away, but his strength was no match for her, and she knew it. Struck into silence, she watched him push back the fabric, revealing the line of jagged red welts up and scabbed wounds up and down her arm. He said nothing, only stared, as if waiting for her to speak, to explain herself. She didn’t. She couldn’t.
“Red isn’t your color,” Jay said, monotone, and he dropped her arm.
Heart thudding against her ribcage, Addy drew her sleeve back down over her skin and took a small step away from him. She suddenly felt open, exposed, as if her insides were splayed out on an operating room table in front of him and he was holding the scalpel.
Jay kept his eyes trained on her face as she splashed her splotchy cheeks with cool water and dried them with a paper towel. He took hold of her upper arm and led her out of the restroom. As they walked, dodging children and parents on the way out, nobody paid them any attention. Who were they to these strangers? A bickering couple? A pair of punk college kids prone to trouble?
Jay bought them snacks and two hot coffees before they headed back out into the cold and got into the car.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw this in your face?” she asked, looking down at her cup. She saw Jay glance down at the coffee in his hands, shrugging.
“You have hot coffee. I have a gun.”
“Fair enough.” She slid into the passenger’s seat, knowing he was damn well full of it at this point. “Where are we going now?”
“Probably to hell.”
“No,” Addy said. She sipped at her coffee, careful not to scald her tongue, wishing she had sugar or creamer. “That’s just you.”
Next to her, Jay opened his breakfast sandwich with his free hand and stuffed it into his mouth, looking like such a man as he did. All of them were the same with shit like that. Men were slobs. Even Ryan had been a slob in the comfort of his own home.
Addy rolled her eyes and slumped down in her seat, letting the cup in her hands warm up her fingers. She wished she had a shot of tequila to spice it up.
“I’m a bit curious now,” Jay said between bites. She looked over at him, watched the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, teasing. Her fingers itched to brush it away. “Did you fall hands first out of a window, or did you get those scars doing something else?”
Jay’s tone was innocent, but his words were sharp, slicing deep into her heart. She froze, and her heart skipped a beat. The blood seemed to drain from her face. There was personal, and then there was personal. Not even her fiancé had ever brought up those scars—he’d never cared to. What made Jay think he was special enough to ask something like that?
“My life is none of your fucking business,” she said.
“It is now,” Jay said. “You made it my business.”
“My life isn’t as perfect as you think it is,” Addy muttered, staring at the coffee cup between her knees. Jay shot her a sideways glance, though she didn’t bother trying to read his expression.
“I highly doubt your pathetic life can beat mine,” he said.
“Well, let’s see.” Addy slumped down in her seat, annoyed at the turn the conversation had taken. But despite how annoyed she was, she couldn’t hold back, couldn’t shut up. He’d asked, and now she felt compelled to tell him—even if it was just to one him up. Ryan—she knew—hated that; Addy’s constant urge to argue, push, and prod every moment. Jay, however, seemed to thrive off it. “Both of my parents are dead, I have no siblings, and my fiancé is an abusive ass when he drinks.”
As the words slipped from her mouth, she found herself vaguely surprised that she was having this personal of a conversation, especially with someone she barely knew. She heard the Styrofoam cup squeak between her hands, and she realized she had squeezed it nearly to the point of bursting open.
“He sounds charming,” Jay said. “No wonder you got back in the car.”