Complete Me(106)

Jamie sniffles and drags the back of her hand under her nose. “I went down the mountain to go check out some happy hours,” she says. “I mean, I had this frigging awesome car, so why not, right? And I met this guy and he was so totally hot.” She looks toward Damien and shrugs almost apologetically.

“Would you like me to step out?”

Her eyes widen. “No! I mean, you deserve to know how I totaled your car. And it’s not like my reputation doesn’t precede me, right?”

Damien, wisely, stays silent.

“Go on,” I prompt.

“Well, there were sparks, you know? And I haven’t banged anyone since Raine except for that one time with Douglas,” she says, referring to our horndog of a neighbor. “Honest,” she adds, holding her hand up in a Boy Scout salute. “I was practically a nun while you two were in Germany. Anyway, he needed a ride home, and I was happy to oblige because, well, why wouldn’t I be? And that part was great. And the part after was great, too,” she adds, cutting her eyes toward Damien.

I get it. For that matter, I’m sure Damien gets it, too. She f*cked the guy. A perfect stranger. But this isn’t the time for yet another lecture, and I bite back my reprimands and instead say simply, “Go on.”

“So I’m lying there, right? And it’s nice. I mean he’s nice. Or at least, I think he is. Until this alarm clock beside the bed goes off. Then he sits up and starts pulling on his clothes.”

I catch Damien’s eye. I do not like the direction this is heading, and I already know that it ends badly.

“I ask him why he’s getting dressed, and he snaps at me to hurry. Because his wife—his f*cking wife—is going to be home soon and I need to get the hell out of there.”

“Oh, Jamie . . .”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I know. But right then I was just pissed. And scared, because he tells me his wife’s a cop. I mean, seriously, it’s like a goddamned movie of the week or something.” She draws in a deep breath. “So I’m hurrying, right? And he’s pushing me to move faster, and he’s basically turned into this total *. And I swear, if she wasn’t a woman who carried a gun I would have stayed and told her that her f*cktard of a husband screwed around. But I’m not keen on getting shot and he’s practically screaming at me by now.”

“And somehow the wife caused the accident?”

Jamie shakes her head. “Other than by coming home and scaring the crap out of me? No. But I pull out of his house and I head down the street to get out of the subdivision and back to the main road. I’m distracted, and I know I’m driving faster than I should, and—oh, Damien—I’m so, so sorry. But that was it. Just too fast. I wasn’t being reckless, I swear to God. But when I turn the corner, this other car is pulling out. They couldn’t have planned the timing better if they tried. I mean, it was like they were just waiting for me to come, which is stupid, right, but that’s just the kind of day I was having. So I swerve, and I lose control and I wrap the car around this huge stone fence that marks the edge of the development. The airbags did their thing, but I still managed to bang my head.” She presses her fingertips to the bandage on her forehead. “I’m not even sure what I hit it on.”

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.”