Page 79 of Veiled in Brick

“Fixed your door.”

“I—uh, thank you,” I stammered. “Again, why are you here?”

A corner of his lip pulled up, but only slightly. “You’ve asked me that before.”

The memory of his recent presence beside me as I slept was an unwanted one, and I exhaled heavily. That, on top of Liam squirming beside me and averting his eyes to the ground, sent me to a confused, tormented headspace that I wished to flee from immediately.

I whined, “James.”

James held up his hands in defense and murmured, “Sorry,” but the smirk written on his lips showed that he didn’t mean it in the least. It melted away as he stated with a sigh, “I’ve had a bad week…and so have you. Are you okay?”

I nearly winced, as the last thing I wanted from him was sympathy. Iciness, I could deal with as it felt deserved. It damn near felt needed because I was unaccustomed to feeling as though I had wronged someone whom I had grown to care for, but…sympathy? Kindness? That, I couldn’t handle.

A miserable noise quietly left my throat, and I could see all eyes on me in my peripheral vision as I responded, “Fine.”

I wasn’t fine. I knew that—I was certain that everyone around me knew that—but there was no point in announcing that I could feel my sanity hanging by a thread. I was far more comfortable with grasping at that single string with everything I had in me and carrying on with my life as I still knew it with a smile on my face, after all.

“No, you’re not.” James’ light eyes were somber, and he asked, “Do you know any more about who this guy could be?”

I grumbled, “I don’t want to get into this; I’ve been at it all goddamn morning.” James’ head bobbed up and down in understanding, and I reminded him, “You didn’t answer the question. Why are you in our apartment?”

A sardonic flair appeared in his expression. “I mentioned the bad week, yes?” I nodded, and he sighed loudly. “I needed a place to stay. Despite the break-in, this is a better option than my car.”

“Why—what happened to your place?” I asked with a curious cock of my head.

“Oh, you mean Allison’s place,” he told me bitterly.

“Your ex-wife?”

“Mhm—loose ends in the divorce that I thought were tied up. You know they favor women, right?”

I looked at Luke and Claire, searching for a smile or a hint that he may have been joking.

I found neither.

I voiced, “What are you saying? You’re—”

“Officially divorced after going through the process for almost two years and homeless,” he finished my statement for me.

Luke interjected quietly, “You’re not homeless, Jay—”

James snarkily retorted, “The house isn’t mine, it’s Allison’s. The furniture isn’t mine, it’s Allison’s. The nice TV that I had to basically beg her to let me buy isn’t mine, it’s Allison’s.” At every mention of her name, he threw out a dramatic hand and his tone turned gritty. “I’m fuckin’ lucky she wasn’t able to take my car.”

The reasoning for his ragged appearance, which I had initially believed to be related to my existence, splayed out before me with every sentence, and my eyes widened as I absorbed it all. Once I was sure he was finished, I inquired:

“When did that all happen?”

“Final decisions were made yesterday,” he replied.

“Jay,” I groaned. “You never said—”

“Didn’t think it would turn out that way; I didn’t think it was worth mentioning at the time,” he returned. “So, anyway—considering your place was up for grabs with the door being busted up and you and Claire not wanting to be inside of it, I was told,” he pointed to Claire, “to stay here for the time being.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say with the exception of a muttered, “Sorry.”

He smiled, but only just. “I’ll live—eventually. Like I said,” he whispered, “bad week.” James rubbed at his tired eyes, glimpsed all of our bags in hand, and asked, “Are we all going on a trip?”

“My parents’ house—felt like getting out of here,” I admitted.

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