Page 84 of Make You Mine

His charm wasn’t working. It was like a spell had been removed and I could see him clearly for the first time. He wasn’t a misunderstood metalworking artist who just wanted to be loved. He was the same selfish biker asshole I’d met in that jail cell weeks ago.

I pulled the roll of bills out of my pocket and hurled it across the room. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Peaches,” he pleaded.

I walked out of the door, and then I was running. I had to get away as quickly as possible.

“Peaches!” he shouted into the night.

42

Charlotte

I jogged until I reached the main road, then slowed down. I waited for Jayce to come running after me, or to roar by on his bike to beg for my forgiveness and explain everything away. But he didn’t.

His absence as I walked the three miles back to the motel felt like an admission of guilt. He couldn’t chase after me because there was no explanation for his actions. No magic words that would absolve him of his sins. After a mile I got so sick to my stomach thinking about the situation that I vomited on the side of the road. It made me feel better, but only a little.

I’d been sleeping with a jerk. “An asshole,” I said out loud, savoring the curse. The wordjerkwasn’t strong enough for this situation. I’d been sleeping with a guy who would let me die for an amount of money equivalent to a brand new Honda Civic.

And Jayce had let hissisterdie for it.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I feltused, like he’d been hiding his true self all this time. Surely I wouldn’t have slept with him all these nights if I had really known who he was.

But I knew that wasn’t really true. I’d been attracted to him the moment he laughed at me in that jail cell my first night in Eastland. There was something about Jayce that I couldn’t resist. His true nature was part of that attraction.

And as I walked home, the truth began to sink in. I wasn’t mad at Jayce. At least, not primarily.

I’m angry at myself for falling in love with him.

The black hole in my stomach was the ache of terrible betrayal. It hurt far more than learning Scott had been sleeping with Tammy, and worse than any other break-up I’d had in high school or college. No matter how much I wanted to pretend like it wasn’t true, I had fallen madly in love with Jayce. I’d been waiting for him to finish his community service and profess his love forme. To drive me out of town on his motorcycle, and then we would ride off into the sunset toward some unknown future together.

My chest legitimately felt like it had been smashed with a crowbar. Maybe it would have been better if Sid had done the job weeks ago.

Miraculously, I never saw anyone on the road back, which meant I didn’t have to dive into the woods to hide. But it was a humid night, the kind where just walking made you sticky. By the time I reached the motel I was sweaty and upset. Instead of taking a shower, I collapsed straight into bed and cried myself to sleep.

He doesn’t care about me, I thought as I wept.He only cares about his bag of cash.

I woke the next morning to Jayce’s familiar smell. A surge of hope filled me that it was all a bad dream, that we were sleeping together in his barn, but then I realized where I was and the source of his comforting smell: I was still wearing his t-shirt.

I pulled it over my head, balled it up, and threw it in the trash bin next to the bed.

I got ready for the day with renewed purpose: to get the heck out of this awful town. Every part of my routine held a special note of finality: the last shower I would take in this motel. The final time I would brush my teeth in front of this sink. The last cup of slightly off-tasting tap water I would drink.

I packed my belongings and put them in the back seat of my car. For good measure, I started the engine just to make sure the battery hadn’t died. It purred to life as it should. Out of all the things that might stop me from leaving Eastland today, mechanical trouble would not be one of them.

“Hey Billy,” I said as I walked into the lobby. He’d been snoring with his head tilted back in his chair, and jerked awake like a frightened animal. “This is my last day.”

“Oh, right.” He actually looked kind of sad. “All right then. You payin’ your balance?”

“That’s the idea.” I pulled out my checkbook. “Hey, when are checks deposited?”

He frowned. “I dunno. You’d have to ask the sheriff. He does all the money stuff.”

I hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d do me a favor.”

He blinked. “I guess?”

“If I write you a check for my balance, maybe wait a few days before giving it to him? Just to make sure the money clears my account.”

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