Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(117)

My stomach dropped to my toes. A month ago? I did a quick calculation of the time from when I came home and now, and really, that didn’t add up in a way that made my stomach get back where it belonged.

“Shit, Aimee, it was more than a month ago,” Jax said, his voice louder, too. “Look, you know I care about you—”

“Do you?” she fired back.

You know I care about you.

I squeezed my eyes shut. A couple of hours ago, we were in bed, and he’d held me and told me I was beautiful, and a few hours before that he’d told me he really liked me, and we were making plans for when I went back to Shepherd, but now Aimee with two e’s was in his house and they’d been together a month ago, and he cared about her. I opened my eyes. They didn’t feel dry. The front door was still open.

This was happening. This was really happening.

Something in my chest hurt, like physically hurt, and I let go of the banister and pressed the heel of my palm between my breasts.

Then Aimee was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Holy . . .” She trailed off as her eyes widened. “No. This is not happening.”

Well, Aimee and I were on the same page for once, because I was thinking the exact same thing.

“You’re with her?” Her voice pitched as her head swiveled in the other direction, and I wondered if it could spin right around like the chick from The Exorcist. “Seriously? Calla Fritz?”

I flinched.

Son of a bitch, I actually flinched.

Because I could totally get the WTF expression she was wearing and the surprise in her tone. I got it. Jax was gorgeous in a way that was almost unreal. He could get girls dropping their panties just by giving them a half smile and a crook of his finger. I had a giant scar down my face and then some. And my mother was a well-known crackhead. I wasn’t exactly someone the vast majority of people would picture Jax with. I seriously did get that, because it was human nature to want to pair flawless people with other flawless people.

Jax appeared in my line of vision. Shirtless. All those muscles on display. For some reason that struck me harder. That he was half undressed with Aimee in his house, that there was a level of intimacy between them. Which was a big f*cking duh, because they’d been banging each other like a cheap screen door at some point that wasn’t too long ago.

“You need to leave,” Jax said, not looking up at me. “Now.”

Aimee ignored that. She raised a slender, golden arm and pointed at me. “You’ve got to be joking, right? Her? I mean, I know guys like to slum every once in a while but seriously?”

Another direct hit to the chest, but man, that nasty little remark hit me like a spark over a pool of gasoline, and it happened.

I exploded.





Twenty-nine


“What the f*ck?” The words burst out of me like a bottle rocket and I was down the stairs and in Aimee’s face before I even knew it. “First off, I don’t think anyone in the last ten years used the word slumming, but you’d probably know that if you didn’t fry your brain fake-baking or overdosing on bleach to get your hair that color.” I flicked a strand of her hair, and she took a step back. I advanced, beyond furious. “Yeah, mine’s natural. And second, I’m over you.”

Her skin paled a bit under her tan and then a flush raced across her face and down her neck. “I’m sorry. Is trash a better word for you?”

Jax must’ve snapped out of his stupor and out of the corners of my eyes I could see him moving forward. “That’s enough. Aimee, you—”

“Trash?” I cut in, hands balling into fists. Jax was wrong. It so wasn’t enough. “Who in the f*ck are you calling trash?”

Her gaze raked over me from the top of my bedraggled head, all the way down my bare legs. She sneered. “Could be the whore standing in front of me in nothing but a shirt?”

Jax shot forward, looping an arm around my waist and hauling me out of the way and giving me a shove away from her, and then he was in Aimee’s face. “You will f*cking apologize. Right now.”

“Apologize for what?” she screamed.

His jaw had locked down, muscles tense along his back. “Fucking apologize, Aimee. I’m dead serious.”

Aimee must have tasted his anger, because she shrank a little, like a weed choked by a bushel of f*cking roses. “Jax,” she whispered.

Hearing her whisper his name like that, like she couldn’t believe he was defending me over her, sent me off into the stratosphere. I was not going to be placed aside. I stormed forward, coming at Aimee from the other side. “You know what? You don’t need to apologize. I don’t need your f*cking apologies. The fact is you want to be the girl wearing his shirt who was sleeping in his bed. You reek of jealousy.”

She turned a heated glare on me, but my bitch shades were up. “I was the girl, honey, and for a hell of a lot longer than you.”

Ouch.

Okay. Burn. She got me there. And my anger swirled, mixing with the raw hurt that had sliced deep in my chest. “You know what, Aimee? Call me trash. Whatever. I’m not the girl at the bar every night who’s throwing herself at a guy who’s with someone else. And I’m not the girl whose idea of making a living is being a ‘ring girl.’ I’m in college. To be a nurse. You know, doing things with my life. So yeah, if that makes me trash and a whore? Fucking proud of it then.”