Jet (Marked Men, #2)(79)

“That’s funny, Ayden, because when I’m with you, I feel better. I behave better, I sound better, and some of the nasty shit that eats me up inside doesn’t seem so bad. No one has ever done that for me before, so if you aren’t what’s best for me, I can’t imagine what you think would be.”

I bit my lip and caved. I hopped down to the next step and grabbed his frowning face in both hands. His rough cheeks abraded my palms and he was warm, as if all that stuff he was feeling on the inside was trying to find its way out through his skin.

“You don’t need anyone to make you better, Jet. You’re already the best.”

I meant to just brush my mouth across his, to just touch lips to lips, to try to soothe some of those broken edges we seemed to keep stabbing each other with. As usual, when it was me and him, it went from sedate and light to a full-blown inferno in half a second. My hands wrapped in his hair, his hands locked on my waist, and it went from a good-bye peck to the kind of kiss people share when they know there is a very good chance they will never see each other again.

His lips were hard and his tongue was insistent against my own, and there was a level of desperation in both of us that made the kiss twist into something more dangerous than I could handle now that I realized how deeply I cared for him. Everything about Jet was passionate—his mouth, his hands, and the way he held me like I was going to escape and run away at any minute. He kissed me like he loved me and it broke me even further. I had no doubt had we been inside, and not standing in front of the house when the van with the rest of the guys in the band pulled up, that they would have interrupted something a lot more intimate than us kissing.

Someone honked the horn and Jet pulled away. He left a little bite to remember him by and now, instead of being angry, those oh-so-pretty eyes with that gold halo just looked sad.

“Bye, Ayd.”

I had to hold back tears. I put his shaking fingers to my mouth, like maybe I could hold him there, keep him with me forever, and whispered back, “Bye, Jet.”

He hauled all his equipment to the van and I stood frozen to the spot. Right before he closed the door, he looked at me and forced a lopsided grin. I lost it. Before the van was gone from the front of the house, I bolted to my room and threw myself across the bed. I cried because I couldn’t help but feel like he was telling me good-bye forever, and I cried because there was no way I could have him. I cried because my mom was never going to grow up, and I was never going to get my childhood back. I cried because, as awful and manipulative as Asa was, I still loved the rat bastard. But mostly, I cried for me. I had spent so much time trying to deny who I was, and working toward a future that was secure, that I wasted Lord only knew how long avoiding and denying the one person who wanted to actually promise me a forever. It was a mess.

I didn’t hear Cora come in, but I felt my bed sink down when she sat on the edge of it. Her fingers were cool when she pushed my hair off my face.

“That was brutal.”

I sniffed and tried to wipe the moisture away with the pillow case, but my eyes kept on leaking.

“How much of it did you see?”

“Enough to watch two of my best friends’ hearts break. Come on, Ayd. Why are you doing this? Clearly you guys belong together.”

The tears came harder and harder and my heart squeezed so hard I thought I was going to stop breathing for a minute.

“It’s for the best.” I wasn’t sure how many times I had to say it before I actually started to believe it myself.

She didn’t say anything else, which for Cora was like an act of God himself, but she did stay and continue to stroke my head until I was all cried out.



The first week he was gone was the worst. I threw myself into school and picked up every extra shift I could at the bar, and not only because I had to pay Shaw back an exorbitant amount of money. I had to stay busy or I felt like I would crack into pieces.

My friends asked how I was doing every day, and every day I lied and said I was fine. I even gritted my teeth and listened to Cora when she gave me updates on how the tour was going. Apparently, Enmity was even more popular than the band that was headlining, which wasn’t surprising at all. Jet was a rock god and now all of Europe knew it, too. I wondered if, when he got back, he was finally going to sign with a big label and shoot to real stardom. He deserved to be recognized for how wonderful he was.

I ran more than I had ever run in my life. It was the only thing that wore me out enough so that I could fall asleep at night, and even then I still woke up and rolled over to reach for an empty side of the bed. When that happened, I tossed and turned and then finally gave up, and eventually just got out of my bed and went across the hall to sleep in Jet’s empty bed, because it still smelled like him and made my heart hurt less.

I thought I was doing a good job keeping it all together, but sometimes I would see Shaw watching me like she was afraid I was going to shatter or do something crazy, like beat Loren to death with her own stupidity. There were times Cora would say something and then just look at me, and I realized I was supposed to laugh or chime in with my two cents, but nothing really seemed funny to me anymore. It sucked. I felt like I was empty and hollow, and that hurt way worse than having anyone know what my life used to look like did.

Week two was a little better. I stopped listening for the sad strains of a guitar and I managed to stay in my own bed for most of the week. The only rough spot was when I overheard Cora talking to him on the phone, and I wanted to chase her down and steal it from her to ask how he was doing, ask if he had found some crappy European version of me to help heal his broken heart. That night, not only did I sleep in his room, but in his shirt as well. It was pathetic.