Complete Me (Stark Trilogy, #3)(73)

Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. “So that’s it. The whole thing was my fault. I was pissed off and driving too fast and the whole goddamn thing is because I spread my legs for some f*cking stranger who only wanted a quick lay while his wife was off catching bad guys.”

I know she wants me to console her. To tell her it wasn’t her fault at all. And sure, that kind of accident can happen to anyone. But Jamie has f*cked around for too long, with me and everyone else telling her that it can only end in trouble. I’m not about to say “I told you so,” but I’m also not going to tell her it’s no big deal and that it could have happened to anyone.

“You scared the shit out of me, James,” I finally say, and feel the tears well in my eyes again. “What would I do if something happened to you?”

Jamie got lucky—that’s the basic, bottom-line, absolute fact. A few inches in another direction, a few miles per hour faster, a little bit of oil on the road—just one tiny change and things could have been much, much worse.

I shiver, unnerved by the direction of my thoughts. By the knowledge that I could not stand to lose my friend. And by the certainty that if the worst happens, it is the sharp steel of a blade that I will crave—and if Damien is not beside me, then it is a blade that I will turn to.

Unnerved, I squeeze my hands tight, feeling my nails dig into my palms. Damien’s hand tightens around my ankle.

I sigh and savor the connection. For right then, it is enough.

When the nurse comes in to take Jamie’s vitals, Damien goes out into the hallway to find someone who can bring pillows and extra blankets. There is a hideously uncomfortable chair in the room that pulls out into a hideously uncomfortable bed, and that is where I am sleeping tonight, curled up tight against Damien’s side.

Despite the uncomfortable bed and the nurse visits that wake us every three hours or so, I am actually somewhat refreshed when I’m awakened the next morning by the smell of strong, slightly burned coffee.

“Nectar of the gods,” Damien says as he presses the Styrofoam cup into my eager hand. I sip it, make a face, and take another long swallow.

“The gods aren’t too picky this morning,” I say.

He brushes a kiss across my lips. “I’m sure Edward will be happy to stop for a latte.”

I frown, confused. “Why is Edward here?”

“I’m sending you and Jamie home in the limo.”

“We’re not riding back with you?” I hear the near-whine in my voice and immediately wish I could take it back. Yes, it’s Saturday, but the man has an empire to run, and he’s already been away from it for far too long. “Sorry,” I say. “I know you have to work.”

“There are things I need to take care of,” he says, and something in his tone catches my attention. “I’m going to San Diego,” he adds, obviously noticing my frown.

“Oh.” His father lives in San Diego, and I realize that he is going to confront the man about the photos sent to the court. I do not envy him the trip. My mother may have failed Parenting 101, but Jeremiah Stark never even took the class. “Hurry back,” I say, even though what I want to do is throw my arms around him and keep him safe. I do not want to see his heart wounded any more than it already is. And yet at the same time, I’m silently cheering inside. He could have so easily told me that he had business meetings, but instead he let me in. “I love you,” I say.

He cups my chin and tugs me in for a kiss. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

I nod, desperately hoping that he is right about that.

Since the cogs of the medical establishment do not turn quickly, it’s a full two hours before Jamie and I are finally settled in the limo. “If I have a mimosa, are you going to lecture me?” Jamie asks.

“I haven’t lectured you at all,” I reply indignantly. “I’ve been extremely non-lecturey. And it’s not like you have a drinking problem, James.”

“You’re right,” she says as she pours two and passes me one. I’m not really in the mood, but I take it anyway. Best friend solidarity and all that. “I don’t have a drinking problem; I have a f*cking problem.”

I happen to agree, so I wisely say nothing and just take a sip from my mimosa. Since Jamie is a reasonably observant person who happens to know me well, my silence isn’t lost on her. She shrugs. “I know,” she says. “Nothing you haven’t been telling me for years.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” I say. “You were lucky, James. But this could have been bad.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes. I’m not surprised. Jamie has moments of self-awareness, but long contemplation is not her strong suit. But at least the wheels are turning.

“I called Ollie,” she says. I blink, confused by the transition. “I’m elaborating on my f*cking problem,” she says, by way of explanation. “I called him after Raine got me fired from the commercial.”

“Oh, Jamie,” I say. “You promised me. For that matter, he promised me. He told me there wasn’t anything going on with you two anymore.”

“Wait. You talked to him? When?”

“He was in Germany,” I say. “The firm sent him over to help with the trial. You didn’t know?”