Page 92 of Veiled in Brick

I quietly announced, “Thank you, Jay.”

“Oh, please, of course,” James returned with a sincere murmur.

“We’re going to just drive back,” I told him. “Skip seeing my parents—”

“Why?” James inquired.

I huffed out a breath, as my answer seemed obvious. “Well, if you find anything, I want to get it as soon as possible—bring it to the police.”

“I’ll do that,” James insisted.

“Oh—Jay, no, you don’t need to—”

“I said I wanted to help, Zoey,” he argued. “This is me helping. Luke told me that you were talking with a cop before?”

“Randy,” Liam said, “yeah.”

“’Kay, well…text me whatever I need in case I find anything.” James gently demanded, “Go have a good time at your parents’ house. You looked stressed to hell this morning—”

“Understatement of the year,” I grumbled.

“Yeah,” James replied. “I know. Go relax for a night.”

“Jay—”

“Stop arguing with me and go. Relax, Zoey,” James pressed. “Even if you did come back now, you wouldn’t make it back till, what, nine at night? Ten? That’s pointless; I’ll let you guys know if I see anything before you’re back.”

His point was well-made, and his persistent insistence to help with what would be a one-man-job in looking through footage of my doorstep made me sigh a breath of relief.

I nearly whispered, “Okay.”

“Okay?” James asked in clarification.

“Yeah,” I told him. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he murmured in a grateful tone. “Talk soon.”

Liam was tense behind the wheel, and the line clicked off without an official goodbye. He drove with intent, and I watched him as he focused on the road. His grip squeezed the wheel. He leaned forward to check his blind spot on the right-hand side even though we didn’t need to change lanes. He cleared his throat—roughly. Far too roughly, in my opinion, and I found myself staring him down, contemplating the purpose of his tension.

“Liam?”

“Uh huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

Voicing the question aloud was pointless, but I did it anyway. I was certain that the emotions I was feeling regarding James’ well-intended demands were radiating throughout the car. I was more than grateful for his assistance, of course, but the lingering feeling of what I supposed was guilt sat deep in my chest.

Liam glanced at me with a single, thick eyebrow raised. “Jay cares about you.” I shrugged in response, and he pressed, “He does.”

“Sure—maybe he does.”

“He definitely does, Zoey.”

“Does it matter?”

He considered my question for a beat, and then finally replied, “No—I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” I asked. “What, are you…jealous?”

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