CHAPTER70
In the apartment, we sit drinking coffee; we don’t talk about what happened. Instead, I tell him about Sophie and that I want to help her. I can’t tell him why, though, without explaining about my mother’s injuries. I know if I tell him Ray is the reason that she’s in the hospital, he will go back out and find him and drag him to the police station or worse, and I know it’s pointless. My mother will never point a finger at Ray. I already know that she won’t even break up with him despite what he’s done. Instead, she’ll be angry at me for letting Jake beat him up.
Such is the twisted logic of my mother.
“Isn’t that what your mother does, help kids like Sophie?” he asks gently. I watch him carefully, realizing I’m still scanning his face and hands for injuries obsessively. I’ve been doing it since we walked into the apartment, and I still can’t rest despite seeing no evidence aside from some bruised knuckles. He’s indestructible, like a hero should be.
“No, she runs a homeless charity. She helps adults find shelter. Children are not her forte.”
Obviously.
“Sophie has real abuse issues; she needs a place that will help her heal, not here,” I say. Never here.
“I’ll call my mom; she has places she can put her while she deals with the legal side. Sophie will need protecting legally, so her parents can’t just come and take her back. My mother has lawyers who deal with all that.” He frowns at me softly, reaches out and entwines our fingers on the table with one hand, giving reassurance. It feels so normal and necessary, sending warm rivers up my arm.
“Thank you, Jake; this really means a lot to me.” I look down staring at our hands, my small pale fingers in his large, strong, tanned hand, as different as night and day, yet they fit perfectly. They look right together.
“Where is she right now?” He’s gazing at our hands too, his expression is blank.
“The hospital still. I stormed out. I should call her; she gave me her cell number.” The questions arise in his face with the twitch of an eyebrow, but he decides to leave it alone. Thankfully. I reach into my bag, retrieve my cell, and text Sophie. I notice the email notification still in the top corner and think back to the song.
“Why did you send me that song?” I ask distractedly.
He shifts back in his seat with his arm fully stretched so he doesn’t need to break the hold of my hand; he looks thoughtful then shrugs.
“It came on in the club and it made me think of you; I just didn’t think you gave me any really good reason not to follow you. You didn’t respond, so I figured you still didn’t have any good reason. Here I am.” His expression gives nothing away, but his eyes darken slightly, his pupils expanding a tiny bit. His gaze is steady on me as I study him, neither of us saying anything.
The moment is broken by my cell buzzing across the wooden tabletop, and I pick it up to check the text.
“Sophie is coming back; she got a bus. Jake, I want to go back to New York tonight,” I say without looking at him, sure the questions will come this time.
“Okay,” is all he says as he squeezes my hand a little. I’m confused; this is so non-Jake, but I don’t push it. He’s being agreeable for once, no questioning, no pushing, just letting me be, and I love him all the more for it."
