Page 7 of Won't Let Go
Jade throws openthe rear passenger door of my old, beat-to-shit Tahoe before I even come to a complete stop in front of her house. The damn woman launches herself into the grass and sprints up the front steps like her ass is on fire. Knowing exactly what this pain in my balls is gonna do, I put my truck into park. The vehicle lurches forward, but I’ve already got my seatbelt off as I jump out and skip Jade’s front door, knowing she’ll lock me out. I round the back, snatch the key from under the frog statue on the deck, and jam the stupid thing into the sliding door lock before she can throw the deadbolt.
Air wheezes from my lungs, and triumph soars as I rip open the slider, only to have her glaring at me from the other side. Jade grabs the handle, and I put my steel-toed boot in the gap to keep her from shutting it.
“Josh!” she screeches, her face red, nostrils flaring with the fury of a thousand dragons.
That’s been us for the past two days.
It’s been a peachy fuckin’ blast.
We should trade places. I’m sure you’d have as much fun as I have, dealing with an angry woman, eager to rip your balls off and shove them down the garbage disposal. True story. That was her latest threat.
She wouldn’t let me in her room at the hospital, and I didn’t allow any visitors past me. We’re stuck together, whether she likes it or not. Let me clue you in. She does not like it. She’s pissed at me. Pissed that I let her live. Pissed, I wouldn’t allow Hunter to visit. Then, even more pissed when the sisters showed up to the hospital and I barricaded her door and wouldn’t let them inside—tough titties. They can see her once she’s truly okay. Once we’ve worked through whatever the fuck is going through her head, to convince her that the world is not a better place with her as worm food.
Sure, I could’ve had her admitted to a mental ward or whatever the hell you call it, but I’m not doing that. As far as the hospital is concerned, she drowned from drinking too much and not paying attention. They bought it, and even if they didn’t, they know us—the Sacred Sinners—so they’re not likely to cause any trouble where we’re concerned.
The only troublemaker here is Jade.
Speaking of the pain in my ass, she jabs two fingers between my pecs hard enough to hurt, but I don’t let it show as I wedge my knee into the door gap and then half of my body.
“Get out!” She shoves me in the chest, but I don’t budge, which only serves to turn her ire up another notch.
“No,” I state calmly, squeezing inside her air-conditioned home and out of the shitty summer heat.
Jade backs away a few steps, in clothes three sizes too big, but doesn’t take her eyes off me, as I slide the glass door shut and flip the interior deadbolt. “Fuck you!” she snarls as she picks up a roll of paper towels off the kitchen counter and chucks it at me. It hits my shoulder and falls to the floor with a dull thud.
A tiny smirk curls at the corner of my lips. It shouldn’t be cute when she’s like this. To anyone else, they’d think she’s gone mad. I suppose she has. But I don’t blame her. I haven’t blamed her for any of it. She didn’t ask to be a single mother. She didn’t ask to be taken and raped. Unfortunately, her coping skills are shit. Jade has always been a pretend-it-doesn’t-exist person. If it doesn’t exist, then it can’t be an issue. You can only pretend for so long before the real world kicks you in the teeth.
Giving her space to calm down, I slip past her and remove my boots by the front door before dropping onto the couch with a tired groan. I click on the television. A few minutes later, Jade joins me. She collapses into her coziest chair and props her feet on the coffee table.
“What are your plans?” she asks, tamping her fury down to a solid two.
In need of a sixteen-hour nap or an energy drink, I rest my head against the back of the couch. “Are you done cussing me out?”
“No,” she replies quickly.
Welp, at least she’s honest.
A low chuckle slides free, and with it comes a slow grin. “Are you ready to talk about it?” I speak to the ceiling, not looking at her.
“About what?”
“Jade.” I huff her name, not in the mood to play games. “You’re a smart woman. Don’t do this.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. She’s been saying that on and off for the past year.
It started off nicely.
“You’re sweet, Josh, but don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Then it continued to grow and grow until it became this.
Sitting up, I sigh, comb my fingers through my messy hair, and stare straight at the pain in my ass. “If I wasn’t here, then you might not be either. I’m not leaving this house. Neither are you, unless I’m with you or there’s someone I trust to keep an eye on you.”
Jade’s eyebrows stitch together as she grumbles and angrily crosses both arms over her ample chest. “This isn’t fair.” She huffs like a petulant toddler, reminding me far too much of Hunter when they first moved in next door.
“No. You know what’s not fair? You tryin’ to kill yourself. To take Hunter’s mom away. To take my best friend away,” I explain softly, trying my hardest not to raise my voice because that only riles her up.
