Chapter 156

“Look, stop worrying … Jake’s a trained kick boxer, he spent half his life fighting for fun, he’ll be fine. Ben is no opponent.” He shrugs, completely unphased.

I can do nothing but blink at him. So much like his brother but not, the fairer hair thing totally threw me and hazel eyes. Also, the fact that not once that he’s touched me have I felt any repulsion or fear. I only felt what I do when Leila or Sarah touch me. Quiet trust for someone who’s almost family. This is so new to me I don’t even know how to process it.

“Jake will follow as soon as he gets my message.” He grins at me. “He’s got it bad with you. You’ll see.”

I relax back into my chair and close my eyes, trying not to picture Jake sprawling in the street with Ben Huntsberger. Trying not to picture that smug face as he moved in to kiss me. Maybe Arrick is right, he honed in on me to get a reaction from Jake, not once but twice, and Jake behaved in a way that is so uncharacteristic of my old boss and friend. Maybe boyfriend Jake is just overprotective and jealous, or maybe it really is about her.

I’m so confused.

When we enter the underground car park to Jake’s apartment building, he asks if I want him to escort me up to the door, but I refuse. I thank him for getting me home and point out that I lost my coat somewhere in the nightclub, he assures me he will have the staff locate it in the morning and I say my goodbyes.

I like Arrick, there’s something so very Jake-like about him yet in a less macho package; he’s sweet, in a little brother kind of a way, and I feel safe around him. Not once has he eyed me up or checked out my cleavage and every sentence from his mouth is delivered with eye contact throughout. He has a maturity and politeness but there’s an underlying capability and fire that most definitely matches his brother.

Jake loves his brother; they’re always texting and calling each other and now I can see why. Arrick is the calm and sensible of the two, the grounding force in Jake’s life. The quieter brother who idolizes him and makes him want to be a better role model. The ying to his yang.

I pass Mathews, one of Jake’s security guards, in the hall, he’s doing the night watch this weekend and we exchange brief smiles before I head to the bedroom and throw my shoes off, aiming them at Jake’s wardrobe in a temper now that I’m alone. I am completely up and down about tonight.

I’m angry with Jake for ruining the night but I also get it, Ben is an asshole of the worst kind and he deserved that punch in the face. But if what Jake really hit him for was past hurt over Marissa, then I just cannot look at him tonight. It hurts too much.

I stomp around angrily, lost in a world of drunken pain and confusion.

On the other hand, I’m also upset because of the way he manhandled me; there was no love or care about his shoving me into Arrick. Even pulling me away from Ben the first time was aggressive, and it’s left me feeling shaken up. I can’t handle aggressive behavior toward me, especially not from him. It opens deep insecurities and fears that I can’t even begin to untangle.

If I had let Jake just hold me, kiss me, and then begged him to come home then the second half of the fight would never have occurred. Ben wouldn’t have used me as bait. We would have come home, and he would be here right now with me, instead of god knows where, doing what.

I strip, pulling on a loose T-shirt over my panties and pad to the bathroom to use make-up wipes to clean my face. Tear stained and smudged to hell; I look awful.

I don’t even want to try calling Jake, in fact, I can’t. I realize with dismay; I didn’t even pick up my bag when I left that damn club. My phone and lipstick were all that was in it and I groan at the realization that I left it on a table beside Jake when I was dancing.

I wander around the room pacing and checking the time, looking at the door and then walking to the window to try and peer down at the street below but it’s too far down to see anything. I’m sick with nerves.

Where is he?

I walk to the kitchen and pour myself some orange juice, taking two aspirin now that my drunkenness has dissipated fully with the events of the night, adrenaline killing it all. There’s still no sign of him when I walk back to the bedroom and sit on the bed, I don’t want to lay down until he’s back and I know he’s not harmed in any way.

I’m angry that I can’t call him, that he’s not home, and my mind is running at a million miles an hour with the worst scenarios. I curl up in a ball on the bed and sit waiting, tense, and twisting my hair to death, my feet scrunching into the sheets and biting my lip all at once. Emma in fidget overload.

Guess I didn’t lose my tells, at all.