Fight or Flight (20 page)

Em snatched it from her with a quick ‘thank you’. Courtesy be damned, she was holding
comb
! A small part of her wanted to kiss the small black object, but that may have been a bit dramatic. Her hair had been driving her crazy for weeks. Starting at the ends, Em tried to work her way up with little success. It was a freaking disaster back there and she couldn’t see what she was doing at all.

Al watched her for a few minutes, fighting an amused grin before she sighed and reached for the comb. “For Chrissakes, turn around.”

Al’s fingers ran through Em’s hair, pulling bits of debris out before even bothering to start with the comb. A small twig flicked past Em’s face and Al laughed. “You know . . . You’re kind of a mess.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be Miss Street Chic USA.” The friendly tease surprised Em almost as much as the shock of jealousy that accompanied it.

She couldn’t remember ever being jealous of someone else before, especially not over looks. The last thing she’d ever wanted was to draw
more
attention. She’d always gone out of her way to
avoid
it. But she wasn’t far off the mark. Al was gorgeous. Even in torn blue jeans and a grimy hoodie the girl looked like a supermodel. If someone had told her that all of the dirt was really makeup for some kind of photo shoot, and the way her hair hung free of her braid, framing her face in disarray was the latest and greatest hair trend, Em would have believed it.

“Oh.” Al was laughing as she started to pull the comb through Em’s hair. She was trying to be gentle, but—though she may have been joking—she hadn’t been lying when she’d called her a mess. The comb caught and pulled on every knot
and tangle until her scalp stung and Em had to fight the urge to slap it out of the girl’s hand. “Miss Street Chic . . . I think I like it. Maybe I’ll make myself a sash to wear.”

“I’ll find you a tiara,” Em offered through clenched teeth.

Em was convinced her new friend was a sadist by the time the comb ran smoothly through her hair.

“You’re all set. You know, there a trick to avoiding that kind of problem. You want me to show you?”

Anything
that would help her avoid another torture session like that. Em sat still while Al weaved her fingers through her hair, tugging on different sections as she worked. This was a much better feeling, though. One that soothed her and brought her back to a time before her aunt died. Back to when life actually made sense. It was so comforting that Em was left feeling slightly bereft when Al finished.

“There.” She tied it off with a rubber band from her bag and tossed a thick braid over Em’s shoulder. “That should keep it from getting too
tangled again.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Em settled back against the wall, idly playing with the end of her braid and wondering what Jay was doing and how long he’d be gone, “You think Jay’s okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Al didn’t sound the slightest bit concerned. In fact, she didn’t even sound like she was paying attention.

But what if something had happened? What if he was in trouble? Or hurt? “Maybe we should go . . .”

Em turned to face Al and found her staring down at something in her hands. Apparently, she hadn’t sounded like she was paying attention because she really
hadn’t
been. Em leaned in to get a closer look at the photograph. The edges and fold lines were worn and tattered, but it was definitely Al. And a boy. He had his arms around her and they looked . . . happy.

“Who’s that?”

“No one.” Al quickly folded the picture in half and stuffed it back in her bag, her actions completely negating her words.

“No one
special
?” Em was aiming to bring back the light mood they’d been sharing, but fell short.

She was curious about the boy in the picture.
The boy who made Al smile like that. So genuine she was practically glowing. Em didn’t get the impression it was a common occurrence. This whole thing with Jay was just so new and unexpected. She relished the idea of having someone—preferably someone
female
—to talk to about it. And Al just seemed so easy to be around. She’d even let the girl touch her without cringing. Maybe it was because she
was
female, or maybe it was her open, if not blunt, personality, but Em found herself really enjoying Al’s company.

Al sighed.
“Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, now does it?”

Boy-talk seemed to be just about the last thing Al wanted to do. Em hadn’t even considered that the person in that photo may have been someone Al had left behind, someone
who was no longer apart of her life, and that saddened her.

Em had left everything behind when she’d left home, but in all honesty, it hadn’t really been much. She hadn’t had any close friends for years and the only family she’d had left was what she’d been trying to escape. She wondered if she would have had the courage to go if it
meant leaving someone special behind. Her thoughts turned to Jay and she knew the answer right away.

“Why did you leave?” Em knew it wasn’t proper street etiquette to ask, but she needed to know what could have made this girl give up someone who clearly made her happy.

Al shook her head and ground her teeth. “Douchebag father. You?”

Em could understand that.
“Douchebag uncle.”

Al grinned.
“Oh yeah? Mine had mean right hook. What’s yours got?”

Al’s grin became infectious as the lighthearted banter resumed over the unlikeliest of topics.

“A crappy love life.”

Al barked a laugh, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Em expected to feel exposed or embarrassed. She’d just shared more with this practical stranger than anyone else in her entire life,
besides Jay, but she didn’t. She felt inexplicably . . . lighter. Nothing more needed to be said. There was just an understanding between them that could only come from someone who had been through a similar kind of hell.

“That sucks, though.
About your dad.” At least Em knew that the people who were supposed to love her the most in the world hadn’t let her down—except by dying and leaving her with
him
.

“Eh.” Al shrugged. “I figure
life’s gotta even out, right? If I get all the bullshit out of the way now, then things can only go up from here.”

That was one way of looking at it. “I like that.”

“Then believe it. No offense, but you’re not exactly sitting pretty at the top of the hill, either.”

Not for the first time, Al’s reasoning struck
her as overly simplistic. But, then again, sometimes simple was the way to go.

***

“Look what I’ve got.” Em’s heart tripped over itself at the sound of Jay’s voice.

She’d spent the past couple of hours talking about nothing of importance and listening to Al’s many stories, all of which were hilarious and only half of which Em actually believed could be true. But nothing could make her happier than seeing Jay stride into the alley carrying a greasy, white paper bag she immediately recognized as being from Joe’s Pizzeria.

“Sorry.” Jay grimaced. “I didn’t make enough to afford a place to stay, but I did buy us some hot food.”

“Tell me there’s a slice in there for me and you’re forgiven.” Al was already reaching for the bag in Jay’s hands.

After inhaling the absolute
best
piece of mushroom pizza on the planet—and this coming from a girl who usually recoiled from anything that qualified as a fungus—they spent the next few hours vent hopping, as one dryer would shut off and another turned on.

It was starting to get late. The stars were coming out, and Al had already made
herself a bed out of a slab of cardboard and fallen asleep. Settling under yet another warm vent, Em curled into Jay’s side and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Tired?” He whispered against her ear, and she could only nod.
Exhausted
was more like it and her eyes were already losing the battle to stay open. Jay’s arm snaked around her back, pulling her even tighter against his body until she was practically in his lap. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

The last thing she was aware of was the soft press of his lips against the top of her head as she drifted away.

***

A hand traced a path over her thigh, down to her ankle and back up again. Her first thought was that it was Jay and she sighed sleepily. But as it continued to move, touch her, caress her, she knew something was very wrong. The hand was cold and clammy, harsh and demanding, nothing
like Jay’s gentle touch at all.

Then she smelled it, the combination of sweat and aftershave that haunted her. She couldn’t get away, she couldn’t scream, or run, or fight back. All she could do was lie there
uselessly
and let it happen, again, and again, and again. Her skin crawled as the hand continued its path over her face and neck and even her hair. All of it sullied, contaminated . . . by
him
.

Afterwards she’d showered.
Every single time. Sat under that hot spray until it turned cold, and then sat there still. She’d scrubbed her body raw, but still she couldn’t remove it. Remove
him
.
He’d
become a dark stain on her soul.

Chapter Thirty-five

Jay

Em rocketed out of his arms so fast that it woke Jay with a jolt. He flew u
p beside her, scanning the area for dangers, but the debris strewn alley was vacant besides the three of them. Near the end of the alley, Al still slept soundly. Looking to Em for an explanation, he noticed her red puffy eyes and the way her entire body was trembling. And not from the cold.

“Em?
Baby, what’s wrong?” He moved to wipe away the tears still streaming down her face, but she smacked his hand away.

“How can you love me? How can you stand to touch me knowing that
he’s
touched me?” She was gasping for breaths between her hysterical sobs, and it broke his heart to watch.

“Hey, hey
, hey,” Jay cooed softly yet sternly. He reached for her once more, tucking stray hairs behind her ears and gently prying her hands away from her face. “I don’t give a damn about him, Em. But I do love
you
, you hear me? I
love
you. Every part of you. Exactly the way you are.”

“I just feel so . . . dirty,” she sobbed, “inside.”

“No. No, baby. Em, look at me. Listen to me.” He forced her head up until her teary eyes met his. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.”

She shook her head sadly, and anger flashed through him, but not at her. The tears came hot and fast as he pulled her close again, and they continued until she finally fell back to sleep cradled in his arms.

Jay hated that Em couldn’t see herself the way he saw her. That she couldn’t see the beautiful, kind, lovable person she really was. All she saw were the invisible scars that monster had left on her, and Jay hated him for it. Even now he couldn’t stop
him
from hurting her. From making her feel like no one could ever love her. From making her feel like she couldn’t love herself.

One day he would make him pay for what he’d done to her. One day he’d show her exactly who he saw when he looked at her. One day he’d make sure she saw it, too. But for today, he would just hold her close, and
keep loving her enough for the both of them.

***

When he woke again it was because his body shook with an uncontrollable coughing fit. Not just a tickle in your throat kind, but full body wracking coughs from somewhere deep inside his chest. He tried to contain it before he woke Em, but it was already too late. She shifted beside him and then blinked awake. The confusion on her face changed to concern the moment she realized what it was that had woken her. He tried again to get control of himself, but the urge was insistent.

“Jay? Are you all right?”

He sputtered out a few more coughs before putting a lid on it. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. You’re sick.”

“It’s just a cold, Em. I always get colds when the temperature drops. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal until it turns into
pneumonia
!”

Her mouth was drawn tight and worry lines creased her pretty face. It made him smile. The idea that someone cared enough to worry about him was so foreign that he was almost glad he was sick just to get the chance to experience it. But, the last thing he wanted to do was add to her worries. He was suddenly taken by the overwhelming desire to hold her tight and never let her go. Instead, he did the next best thing. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

“Jay!” She scolded him, flustered by what she took as a brush off of her concern. If she only knew.