Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(68)
Dare: No luck. Anything?
Me: No. I’m going to go home and see if he went back. Get some sleep.
One of us should.
Dare: I’m going to go home to pick up my phone charger, then grab a cup of coffee. I’ll come to you.
There he goes again, making me feel all supported and shit. My chest physically aches when I think about all he’s done for me. For us. Everyone in town seems to be intimidated by him. Even he thinks he’s some kind of monster. But he’s never been anything other than an angel to me. My broken boy. Doesn’t he know he’s not really broken at all? It’s everyone else who’s flawed.
When I get back to Henry’s, Jess isn’t there. But fucking Crystal is. And she’s wearing a bath towel. I throw my hand up in her direction, looking to Henry for answers.
“Don’t look at me. She won’t leave.”
“So call the cops. I’m getting real good at that,” I say, fishing my phone out of my jacket pocket. “You’re on probation, right?” It’s an educated guess, but her reaction tells me I’m right.
“Logan, sweetie—”
“I know you told Eric where we were, too. I’ve always known you were selfish, but damn, Crystal. Do you have to make sure everyone else’s lives are as pathetic as yours? You couldn’t just let us have this?”
“I was helping you!” she screeches. “That man loves you, and he has money. He could take care of you for life. You’re an idiot to pass that up.”
Fucking typical.
“This may come as a shock to you, but to most people, there are more important things in life than money for your next fix.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I hold my hand up to stop her as my phone, still in my other hand, vibrates with a text from Dare. I see the two words that have me sagging in relief: He’s here.
He went to Dare’s.
He went to Dare.
* * *
I KNOW SOMEONE IS IN my house the minute I open the door, even though I don’t see anyone. I walk into the kitchen, noticing an open cabinet, then wet footprints leading to the back door. I open the sliding glass door to see a shirtless Jess, nursing a near-empty bottle of Jack in my hot tub.
This is going to be a long night.
He stares ahead, unmoving. I shoot a text to Lo, letting her know that I’ve found him before pocketing my phone. I brace myself for the angry, drunken mess Jess is sure to be. I know because looking at Jess is like looking at myself ten years ago.
“Up we go,” I say, leaning over the stairs, lifting him underneath his armpits. Kid is solid and drunk, which equals dead weight. I finally hoist him up out of the water, only to realize he’s butt ass naked.
“Ah, what the fuck, man,” I say, averting my eyes.
I lead him down the steps, keeping a healthy distance. He drops the bottle of Jack, glass shattering at our feet. I try to lead Jess away from the glass, but he walks across it, unfeeling. Uncaring. Once inside, he sits his naked ass down on my couch, and I run upstairs to grab him a towel and some clean clothes.
“Put these on.” I toss the clothes next to him. He doesn’t move, head bent, cradled in his hands.
“Come on, man. Get dressed.”
He finally listens, moving slowly. Facing away from him, I call Lo.
“Is he okay?” are the first words out of her mouth. I scratch at the back of my neck, putting some more space between us.
“He’s fine. Drunk, but fine.”
“Thank God,” Lo says, letting out a relieved breath.
“There is one problem, though.”
“What?” Lo asks, like she’s afraid of the answer.
“Jess is here…but the car isn’t.”
“Of course, it isn’t. That would be too easy.”
“Do you want me to bring him to you?”
“I’m coming to you now. Henry’s dropping me off. I don’t think Jess should be around either of our parents right now. And I use the word parents loosely,” she adds, probably for Henry’s benefit.
“Okay. We’ll look for the car in the morning.” It must be around two a.m. by now.
We hang up, and when I turn back, Jess is dressed—thankfully. I hand him the coffee I bought on the way over and sit down next to him, unsure of what to say. I think about how I’d feel if the situation were reversed. I wouldn’t want anyone to say a damn thing to me, especially in his state. So, I don’t speak at all, content to sit in silence unless he breaks it first.
That’s what we do for maybe ten minutes as he drinks his coffee, before he looks over at me, eyes bloodshot and glassy. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Not planning to.”
“Everyone lets her down. Even me.”
“I’m not everyone,” I say bluntly.
“Good.”
Another pause.
“What’s your issue?”
“Come again?”
“Your drama. You know mine. What’s your story?”
“I was left in a parking lot when I was a kid. Bounced around from foster family to foster family until I aged out.” I leave out a lot, but those are the Cliffs Notes.
“Life sucks,” Jess mutters, running a hand down his face.