Chapter 16: Addy

Addy rested her head against the window, embracing the cool from the windowpane against her face. The sun was warm on her skin, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort. In the seat next to her, silent, Jay was tapping his foot again, the same anxiety-ridden habit he’d had since she first met him. Between them, head resting on the console while his ass still sat on the back seat, the funny yellow dog was butting at her arm with his nose, pleading for attention.
“Could you not do that?” she asked. Her throat was raw, and she craved a drink of water.
“Are you talking to the dog or me?” Jay asked, but the foot-tapping ceased.
She was both surprised and pleased that he didn’t reply like she’d expected him to: with anger, hostility, or annoyance. Tearing her gaze away from the window—while making it a point to avoid the blood-soaked shirt around her arm—she turned to look at Jay.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “It’s kind of—how I cope.”
He shrugged, looking disinterested, but she knew better. He had gone after her. He had held her in his arms—and he had looked terrified. Terrified of what, though? She wasn’t sure she understood. He had made it clear before that she was only a burden to him, a weight dragging him down. And now, here was, wrapping her wounds and carrying her around.
And he was still there.
She just didn’t get it.
There was more silence; more trying, awkward silence between them. Addy sighed and rested one hand over the blood-soaked shirt, covering up as much as she could. She was embarrassed. She was embarrassed just as much as she had been the day Ryan had found out. Only, Ryan had reacted differently. He yelled. He had been furious. And then he had shut down—and he’d never looked at her the same again.
“You got in the car with the wrong chick,” Addy joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, talk about baggage.”
Jay looked over at her then, his eyes flicking from her arm and then to her face. There was no anger or hostility or annoyance.
“Just—don’t do that again,” he said. “Please. Don’t do that again.”
She could hear the desperation in his voice, like a parent on the edge of a breakdown. No one had ever used that tone with her—the tone that implied somebody gave a shit.
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t.” And for a fleeting second, she meant it. No, she absolutely meant it. She found on their bizarre little adventure she was starting to give a crap about Jay’s feelings. She noticed that when he was hurt, she was too.
There was more silence, but it was comfortable and easy. Addy leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, embracing the way the sun felt on her face. She rarely liked the sun, but today she did. Today it made her feel better. Warm. Safe.
“We’re out of money,” Jay said after a moment. “I don’t know what to do from here—but I’m flat broke.”
“Are you serious?” She sat up again, chest tight with worry. “How did you plan on taking this little trip with no money?”
“I had money,” Jay said. “I just don’t anymore. We spent it all.”
“Oh, don’t even.” Addy threw her hands up, frustrated. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to come along on this little adventure of yours, Jay. I didn’t ask you to pay for me.”
“Hey,” Jay raised his hand, shushing her. “Regardless, we’re broke. Like, really broke.”
Irritation was getting the best of Addy. She didn’t know what she wanted more: for them to run across some money, or for him to drop her off somewhere and let her go home. Okay, she already knew the answer to that, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself—or him.
“I don’t know,” Jay said, and his tone had taken on a hurt tinge. “I guess my plan went in the wrong direction, Addy. I had enough money for me, for one person. But … now I have you.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of her life back in Washington. She thought of her home, she thought of Lisa. Then she thought of Ryan. Ryan, her husband-to-be, probably with Melanie right now—possibly having sex. More than anything she wanted to go home, at least to Lisa, but even more —even more than wanting to go home—she didn’t want to leave.
She didn’t want to leave Jay.
“I have an idea,” she said.

It wasn’t his decision. It wasn’t even his idea. It had all been up to Addy, and Jay was both surprised and smug when she’d decided to do it. He could imagine it was difficult for her, and for a moment he had considered refusing it. He was a man, and he had a conscience. But she had been determined, and he’d learned better than to stand in her way when she wanted something, even something like this.
“How much can I get for it?” Addy asked.
Jay stood back, eyes trailing over the cheap, old things strewn around the pawnshop. The man behind the counter—a fat, bald man with a potbelly and hairy arms—took the ring from her outstretched hand and looked it over.
“I can give you a hundred bucks,” he said, and Jay cringed.
“That’s a two-thousand-dollar ring,” Addy said. Her voice was steady, never cowering. She was an excellent negotiator, better than he would have been.
“Okay,” he said. “Five hundred.”
“I won’t take less than fifteen hundred for it,” said Addy, and Jay wanted to plug his ears so he wouldn’t hear any more. Five hundred bucks wasn’t much, but it would get them where they were going.
“Seven hundred,” the guy handed the engagement ring back to her and shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
“Eight,” Addy said. She slipped the ring back onto her finger—her right finger, he noticed—and turned away. “Otherwise, thanks for your time.”
Jay watched, shocked, as Addy made her way toward the door. He was about to follow when the big guy called for her.
“Fine,” he said. “I can give you eight hundred.”
Jay watched her stroll confidently back to the counter. Her shoulders were back, lips set in a stern line. They were lovely lips, he noticed, and not for the first time.
Kissable lips.
“Deal,” Addy said, and she shook his hand. They made the transaction, and she handed over her ring, showing no emotion as she did. He had to hand it to her—she did well at hiding certain emotions. It could never really matter how shitty a relationship was; pawning your engagement ring to get extra money for the man who took you hostage had to be weird, if not painful. But of course, it had been her idea, at least he could rest easy knowing that.
“Let’s go,” Addy said, stuffing the money into her pocket. He was pleasantly surprised when she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her out the door. Her skin was warm; such a pleasant change from the icy cold it had been. He preferred it warm.
They got back into the car, silent, and Jay pulled onto the freeway, sneaking a glance at Addy every few minutes to see if she had broken down in sobs yet. She hadn’t, not that he should have been surprised. Every time he was confident that he knew all there was to know about her, she proved him wrong yet again.
“Are you okay?” he said finally. “That must have been hard.”
“No,” she said. Her voice was blank. Emotionless. He found that when she hid her emotions, it was always something greater. “I’m fine. It was fine.”
Okay, so he didn’t know her well, but he knew her enough to know that she was so full of shit it was coming out her ears.
“You don’t have to hide anything, Addy,” Jay said. “You don’t have to hide your emotions. Not from me.”
“I’m not sure if I can be clearer,” she said. She spun and faced him. “I am fine.”
“You can talk to me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jay.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he snapped. He slammed his fist on the wheel, feeling the anger exploding from his chest. “Can’t you ever just—let go?”
She looked at him then, shocked, her mouth slightly agape and her lovely gray-blue eyes wide. She stared, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Jay felt himself about to speak, to apologize, but it was only a few more seconds before he finally saw her eyes brimming with tears. The color of her eyes became vivid, and relief flooded through Jay. She needed to show emotion. She couldn’t always be angry or upset—everyone was sad sometimes, especially her. And on top of everything, he wanted her to be comfortable enough to do it. He wanted her to cry in front of him. No, to him. That’s all he wanted.
“I always knew something was wrong,” Addy said. She was facing forward now, the tears streaming silently down her crimson-colored cheeks. “We dated a long time, and I always knew something like this would happen, way back in the corner of my mind.”
“Fine,” he said. At least she was talking. “Then why didn’t you end it before it came to this?”
She hesitated as if trying not to break down further, and he wondered if he should quit while he was ahead.
“He was all I knew,” she said. “From high school and on, Ryan was it, Jay. He was…it.”
“I don’t get it.”
“No,” agreed Addy. “I don’t expect you to.”
Jay sighed, overwhelmed. He shouldn’t expect her to talk to him about things like that. He was the bad guy here; he had taken her at gunpoint and been mean and angry and pushy the whole time. She didn’t have to tell him anything. She didn’t have to tell him anything.
But he wanted her to.
“It seems to me if you know a person is like that from the start, why would you stay with him?”
Now he was poking a sleeping bear, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to quit. Jay wanted to know Addy, he wanted to feel what she was feeling, and he wanted to sympathize with her. From what he could see, she rarely got an opportunity to be the one in pain; the one cared for by another being who gave enough of a shit to wrap their arms around her and allow her to just—be.
Addy sighed, looking like she would be content to punch him in the face, but that was something he had come to accept.
“Sometimes people turn out to mean more to you than you ever expected,” she said finally. “You share moments, good and bad—and suddenly they’re a big part of your life, and it would kill you to lose them. You live for half of your life without knowing that person existed, and then suddenly they become a part of you. A piece that was missing.”
“I see,” Jay said. He turned his attention back to the road, wondering—somewhere down in his heart—if they were still talking about Ryan.