Page 40 of Don't Remind Me
Jase’s text conversation glowed back at me, and I didn’t pause to think before tapping the phone icon in the top corner.
“Open the fucking door!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and brought the phone to my ear. A tear escaped, trailing over my cheek and onto my pillowcase. “Please,” I whispered at the first ring. “Please.”
The slamming switched to jangling, like whoever was down there had grabbed the door handle and was trying to rip it off.
I dragged air through my nose as the line rang twice, trying to control my breathing and gather my thoughts.
What if they got in? Did I have anything in my apartment I could use as a weapon? The standing lamp by the couch, maybe? I had knives in the kitchen.
Oh God.
Would I have to stab someone?CouldI stab someone?
Bile burned the back of my throat.
The line rang again, my whole body shaking as my breaths grew shallow. Each pound against the door rattled through my bones, echoing the pounding of my heart against my ribs. I clutched the phone to my ear, clinging to the silence between rings, and willed the line to connect.
Chapter Sixteen
Jase
I threwthe metal pan into the sink, where it clattered against other pots, ringing angrily through the kitchen. Aubrey snapped her head up from where she was breaking down the cold station for the night, brows drawn together in surprise.
Tightening my hands around the edges of the dish pit, I lowered my head and forced in a deep breath. I never wanted to be one of those chefs who threw hissy fits, breaking shit and screaming at their staff. Especially when my frustration wasn’t their fault.
The problem was me.
I’d been fucking up all week, breaking sauces, burning pans, overcooking scallops. It was like I was a line cook all over again, and not a fucking good one. My balance was off. What used to come to me as easily as walking now felt like stumbling through muddy, tangled weeds, just trying to stay on my feet.
“You could call her, you know,” Aubrey said.
I clenched my teeth against the pinch in my stomach. “No, I can’t.”
I blew out a breath and headed over to break down the sauté station. The kitchen had technically been closed for an hour, but it had been a busy night, and we’d had tickets open until a few minutes ago. I’d let Zach and Luis go home first to make up for all the slack they’d had to pick up from me this past week. Just thinking about it made me want to throw something else. I was supposed to be teaching them, helping them grow as chefs, not making their jobs harder.
“Why not?” Aubrey challenged. Her own frustration and no lack of judgment filled her voice. She’d made it perfectly clear how she felt about me dodging Dani the way I was, and I didn’t blame her. It was a dick move. No—a cowardly one.
Turned out I was a fucking coward.
“Because…” How did I explain what even just a friendship with Dani would be like? How every single day would feel like that night at Colin’s gallery all over again—one minute, the most right something had ever felt outside the kitchen, only for the next to be a jarring reminder of all the ways it was wrong.
Wrong.
Dr. Ohara would probably challenge me on that word. Ask me who I was hurting by having a friendship with Dani.
I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was how my parents would react if they ever found out.
Dani hadmetthem, for fuck’s sake. She hadn’t been just some casual fling of Alec’s. They’d been serious enough for him to take her home for all of winter break. And even if he wasn’t bothered by the situation, which I honestly couldn’t guess whether he would be or not, my mom would never accept it. Not when it might make her precious baby boy uncomfortable. And I’d be the insensitive older brother who couldn’t help stirring up drama.
That was what I was in my parents’ eyes. The instigator. The fuckup. To them, every decision I made was a way to stick it to the family, never mind whether it actually had anything to do with them or not.
The irony was most of my decisions lately had been about trying to connect with my family. I’d left that part out when I told Dani why I moved back. Yes, I’d wanted the chance to build something of my own as an executive chef, but there’d been more to it than that. A nagging desire to see if maybe I could still have the kind of relationship with my parents and brother I’d wanted growing up. One where I could stand apart from them and still be on equal footing. Where I could be different from them but no less loved.
I was still trying to find out. The struggle was finding a way to do it that was healthy for all of us. But I didn’t see how Dani might fit into that equation. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to find out.
“Well, in that case,” Aubrey said when I didn’t answer.
