P s i hate you, p.10
P.S. I Hate You, page 10
“I never asked you to save me, Jace. You did that on your own.” When he whips around to face me, I take a tentative step toward him. “Why’d you do that?”
His lips press in a sneer, his jaw clenching. “Just get out.”
“No, I'm not going anywhere. Why’d you wrestle Troy to the ground when you saw him kissing me?”
“What do you want me to say, Ellie?” This time, when he moves in closer, I don’t allow him to force me back. I stand my ground and wait for his answer. His Adam's apple bobs, and he licks his lips as I wait for him to say what I know is on the tip of his tongue. But I wasn’t prepared for what slips from his mouth next. “If I hadn’t intervened, Troy would have forced himself on you, then left you there.”
My blood runs cold. “How could you make such a strong accusation like that?”
“Because he’s done it before.”
“You’re lying.”
I move to the door, but his booming voice stops before I cross the threshold. “Pam Mackey, Rhonda Fortnight, Tracy Givens.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder. “Who are they?”
He reaches around me and pulls open his bedroom door. “Ask your boy,” he says before ushering me out.
Chapter ten
The guttural sound of Jace’s yell rips me from my slumber. Dazed, I sit straight up, my sleep-fogged gaze darting around the room. At first, I think I’m dreaming, but the scuffle in the hall tells me otherwise.
I get out of bed and open the door to find Cindy draped in Jace’s arms. My brain flashes to the vision of my unconscious mother sprawled out on her bed, and I can barely breathe. “What’s going on?”
“Nothin’. Get outta my way.” He carries her to the bathroom and gently lays her in the tub. A meager whimper slips between her lips. He twists the cold water all the way and lets it fill around her as she lies incoherent.
Tomato-red flush covers her cheeks and forehead. I feel as if I’ve been sucker punched. Helpless, I watch from the doorway as Jace kneels beside her, pushing her damp hair off her face. “It’s okay, Mama. Hold on for me.”
“She’s burning up.”
“Yeah, no shit! Don’t just stand there like a dang fool. Get some ice!”
I spin on the ball of my foot and run to the freezer. I pull two frozen trays from the shelf, then race back to dump them in the bath. “Maybe we should take her to the emergency room.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” he barks.
When I touch his shoulder, he shrugs me off. Emotion claws up my face and stings my eyes. By the time I found my mother, it was too late. It’s not too late for Cindy.
“Either we take her ourselves or I’m calling an ambulance.”
He pushes to his feet, his eyes manic. “She ain’t your mother. You had your chance with yours, and you blew it! This one’s mine, and I say what goes.”
My lips part as tears soundlessly fall down my cheeks. Of all the mean, hurtful things Jace has said to me over the past couple of months, that one cut the deepest.
The blood drains from his face. He turns back toward Cindy and rests his hand on her cheek. “Dammit. The ice bath ain’t workin’.”
“Jace,” I murmur, squatting down beside him, “I know you’re worried she’ll be mad if you bring her, but we have to.”
The whites of his eyes turn pink as he stares at his listless mother boiling in the frozen water. “Get the truck,” he mumbles so low I barely make it out.
I jog through the house and find the keys to Jace’s truck on the hook near the back door. After jamming my feet into sneakers, I run out to the truck and bring it in as Jace appears on the porch with Cindy in his arms.
I slide over as he sets her down on the passenger side of the bench seat and allow Jace room behind the wheel. Her hot skin is clammy against mine. I hold on to her as Jace skids through the gravel in a cloud of dust.
Turns out, the nearest hospital is twenty miles away. We ride in silence, the tension sitting in the cab like a fourth person. Inside the ER, minutes tick like hours. Cindy lies in her bed looking helpless and small while Jace holds her hand, his head bowed in silent prayer. There’s nothing we can do but wait.
The swish of the curtain pulls his gaze up to the doctor. A mask covers his nose and mouth. He wiggles his fingers in a “come with me” motion, and we both follow. “Your mother tested positive for the virus.”
My stomach bottoms out. The flu-like virus has been going around for the past couple of years. At its height, I’d never seen New York City so empty. The silence was eerie. I thought we’d reached its inevitable end, but a second strain recently appeared.
Jace’s jaw ticks as his eyes flutter closed. “She wasn’t even sick.”
“It moves fast, I’m afraid. There isn’t much we can do other than let it run its course, but her fever is beginning to come down. We’d like to admit her overnight just for observation. Once it’s back to normal, you can take her home.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Jace’s anger radiates into the room. The doctor hands us each a mask and instructs us to go to the testing center to make sure we didn’t catch the virus, as well. An hour later, Cindy’s been placed in quarantine, and we’re back at the house with a clean bill of health and instructions to remain homebound for two weeks.
“This is bullshit,” Jace grumbles. He lights a cigarette and blows a single stream into the air. “How can they expect me to leave her there all alone?”
I nod but don’t offer a reply. Anything that comes out of my mouth is likely to incur the brunt of his wrath, so instead, I opt to quietly hold space for his pain. His gaze flicks toward me before fixing back on the trees ahead. “What I said about your mother before, that was uncalled for.”
My chest tightens. I tuck my feet beneath me, curling into the rocking chair where Cindy loves to sit. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
He takes another drag, this one coiling from his nostrils like a dragon. “When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me I’d be the man of the house someday. When he died, I swore I’d live up to his expectations and take care of things.”
Jace may be the king of assholes, but his mother is held to a higher standard. It’s obvious he loves her with every fiber of his being. His father would be proud. “You have.”
When he turns to face me, his eyes are ringed in red. “I can’t lose her, too, El.”
The vulnerability in his voice crushes my heart. I want to take him in my arms and hold him until everything goes back to normal, but I can’t. Instead, I sit quietly and let him feel whatever it is he needs to feel. Jace carries his mask of armor wherever he goes, but he’s still human underneath. I rest my hand over his to offer comfort, expecting him to push me off, but I’m shocked when he wraps his fingers around mine.
“I think I need a beer,” he announces after a few solitary moments. “You want one?”
“Yeah.”
His abandoned chair rocks back and forth with a rhythmic click as he disappears into the house. Minutes later, he returns with two bottles and reclaims his seat. I take one and let the cold carbonation slide down my throat as the sun begins to lower behind the trees.
Our drinks are near empty when I finally find the courage to ask the question sitting on my tongue. “May I ask what happened to your dad?”
“Dad was a roughneck on the rig. Supposedly, it was an accident, but I have theories of my own.”
My eyes widen. “You think it was intentional?”
He shrugs and takes another sip. “I think your boyfriend’s crook of a father was involved in illegal fracking, and my dad took the hit. Rig exploded. He died instantly.”
“Was there an investigation?”
When he faces me again, the hard pull of his lips reminds me of his true nature. Darkness falls over his expression, his blue eyes glowing with ferocity. “No, there wasn’t no investigation. No one gives a shit about poor assholes like us. McNamara’s got all the money of Midas. He paid everyone off, includin’ my mother.” He yeets his bottle into the yard, and it shatters. “Fuckin’ rich pieces of shit think they can do anything they wanna do.”
“It’s okay. Just calm down. I didn’t mean to get you so upset.”
He jumps from his chair, and the back hits the house with a thud. “Who the fuck do you think you are tellin’ me to calm down?”
Fuck! I should have known better. I overplayed my hand, and now I’m back to being his punching bag. Every so often, Jace shows me there’s a sweet center buried inside that hard candy shell, but every time I get the nerve to take a nibble, he bites back harder.
“I’m sorry, okay.”
“No. You know who’s sorry? I am. You interested in truths, princess? Here’s one I bet you didn’t know. Your mother never returned one letter, phone call, or holiday card. Not once. Still, my mother kept insistin’ they were best friends and refused to give up. Now she’s dead, and we’re stuck with you. Some fuckin’ friend.”
He wrenches the screen open and storms inside while I stand stock-still, bleeding out onto the weathered porch boards. When the pulsing thwap, thwap, thwap starts from the garage, I’m unsure if it’s Jace’s bag or my heart ramming against my chest.
Jace is a liar. My mother didn’t speak of Cindy often, but she was tight-lipped about her past—it’s just who she was as a person—but she wasn’t one of those rich assholes who make a fortune and forget where they came from. I refuse to believe that.
I stop over to the garage and slide open the bay door. Jace’s fists thrum in a two-by-two pattern, his face pulled in determination. I reach out and stop the bag with both hands.
“You’re beggin’ for a punch in the face.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Blue slits glare beneath dark brows. “What do you want?”
“I want you to grow the hell up. A tragic past doesn’t give you the right to go around treating people like shit. People around here may think you’re some kind of god, but I have news for you, Jace Wilder. You’re not god. You’re nothing but a big bully.”
Adrenaline whips through my veins, my rioting heart pumping so fast I can barely see straight. With flailing arms, I beat my fists against his chest over and over, screaming out everything I’ve been holding in since the day we met.
But my advances are no match for Jace. He takes hold of my forearms and hurls me onto the bed. The mattress dips around as he pins me flat on my back. “You about done?”
I struggle, but his hold is unyielding. “Get off me.”
A rumbling laugh rolls off his tongue. “You’re tougher than you look. I’ll give ya that.”
Heat pools between my thighs. I curse my body for the lascivious traitor it is. I don’t understand how I can hate and want someone so badly at the same time. He boils my blood. He makes me rage like no one else ever has. Yet lying in his bed with his scent all around me, my brain shifts to overload. Kiss him or kill him. It doesn’t matter. I want to do both.
“Look at you. Them flushed cheeks ’n’ tremblin’ lips… dang, princess, you’re ugly when you’re angry.”
“I hate you. I’d rather live on the street than stay here with you.”
He licks his lips like a tiger toying with its prey before eating it whole. “Save it for the ring.”
He kicks his leg over the side and releases me, but I don’t make a move to get up. “The ring?”
He nods toward the truck. “Let’s go.”
Mad Dog’s MMA looks deserted. We creep into the lot and park in the back. “What are we doing here?” I ask, but Jace just rolls his eyes.
Keys jangle in his hand. He turns the lock with a click and pushes the heavy door open with a creak.
“Are we gonna get in trouble?”
Jace laughs. “Don’t wet yourself. We’ll be fine.”
One flick of the switch bathes us both in yellow light. I shield my face, my eyes accustomed to the dark. Jace walks, and I follow. This seems to be the basic nature of our relationship. The harder I fight, the more forced together we get. Now we’re stuck together with no way out for two straight weeks. I’m not sure I can survive.
“Hold out your hand.” I extend my arm palm side up, and he tsks. “No, like this.” He flips it over and begins wrapping it in red tape. When he’s finished, he does the other. “You want a piece of me? Let’s do it.” He unlatches the door and ducks inside.
“You can’t be serious,” I say as he hops on the balls of his feet, stretching his neck from side to side.
“Show me whatcha got, princess.” He smacks his fist into his palm. “Unless, of course, you’re scared.”
I square my shoulders. “I’m not scared.” When I don’t move, he clucks like a chicken. I roll my eyes. “You’re such a child, you know that?” But Jace must know me better than I give him credit for because I find myself inside the octagon, caged in on all sides.
He waves me over with both hands. “C’mon.”
I jab in his direction.
Jace’s laughter echoes in the empty space. “You can do better than that.”
I drop my arms to my sides. “This is stupid.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
He throws his hands up and moves toward the door, but the nerves tumble in my gut when I finally realize what this is about. Jace is sharing himself with me. He’s showing me a small piece of who he is, and I’m shitting all over it. If I want to get to know him, this is where I have to start.
“Show me how to punch.”
He looks over his shoulder before turning around. “Raise your fists like this. Always protect your face, right?” I imitate his fighting stance. “Good.” He comes behind me next and grasps my hips with his large hands. “Bend your knees a little.” His breath tickles my neck as he leans in behind me, pressing his strong body against my back. Still gripping my hip in one hand, he uses the other to guide my punch. “You got that?” The question is a hoarse whisper floating past my ear. I pull a deep breath into my lungs, but his scent comes with it, disturbing my sense of calm.
“I think I’m okay now,” I say, but the sound of my own voice is alien. It’s breathy and light like the flutter in my chest when he backs away, taking his heat along with him.
This time, when I throw a punch, it makes a connection. Jace doesn’t blink from my force, but I can see in his face that I did a good job. When I throw another, he leans to the side, and I end up catching air. Right, left, right; I begin my attack.
A sheen of sweat breaks out on my skin. I advance on him with my heart and soul, all the pent-up anger pouring from my knuckles with each grunt and groan. I fight with everything I have, against everything I’ve lost. My mother, my friends, my life … I pound it to dust and don’t stop until my muscles ache and my throat burns. There’s freedom in each punch, redemption in every kick. I lose myself in the fight, but in return, I find something new. A strength I never knew I had.
Gazes locked, we circle the octagon. I try to trick him by faking right, but Jace catches my arm and pulls me in. I smack hard into a wall of muscle with an oomph. He sweeps my legs out from under me, and we tumble to the mat. Flat on my back for the second time today, Jace hovers above me, pinning my arms over my head. “You give?”
“Never.” I kick my leg out and wrap it around his waist to flip him over. I press my palms flat on his heaving chest, straddling his thighs.
“You think you’re tough now, huh?”
“A little.”
“You forgot the most important rule.”
Before I have time to ask, he sits up and tackles me backward. His arms hook under my knees. Pulling them forward, he slides up my body and anchors my biceps. I’m trapped in a spread eagle with Jace on top of me.
“You didn’t secure my arms.”
Heavy breaths beat together. Pressed against mine, the solid lines of his body hold me captive. I have no choice but to claim defeat. “Give.”
But Jace’s unyielding hold doesn’t falter. Instead, a devious grin splits his face. “I think I prefer you like this.” He runs his nose up my jaw. “Helpless. Under my control.” His arousal begins to take shape, his hard length pushing against my dampening core. “Why do I get the feelin’ you like it, too?”
I wriggle in an attempt to escape, but it only makes him grind into me. A whimper falls from my lips. Fire explodes in Jace’s gaze. A burning, blue ember twisting and roiling that makes my soul quiver. “You wanna get up, princess?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Say it.”
“I-I wanna get up.” The words rush from my mouth with a single breath. I arch my back, the feel of him thick and ready making my eyes roll beneath my lids.
He leans in closer, his lips brushing my lobe. “You don’t seem so sure.”
“Please?” Although, I’m not exactly sure what I’m begging for. My hormones are a runaway train. I have lost all semblance of control.
A low growl vibrates in his chest. He detangles our limbs, and I slowly melt into the mat, immediately missing the feel of his weight.
“You did good,” he mumbles, offering me a hand up.
“You think I’m ready for the big leagues?”
A lazy grin rolls across his mouth. “Stick to the little league, princess. I’m not sure you could handle more than that,” he rasps before ducking through the door. “Ima take a shower.”
“Wha… now?” I throw my hands up but go ignored. We have a shower at home. It’s a ten-minute ride, and his truck is filthy anyway.
I scurry to the edge of the ring and sit, my feet dangling as I start to unravel the tape. Once free, I waggle some life back into my fingers and wait for Jace to return. The urge to pee comes out of nowhere. I cross my legs, praying he comes out soon. What the hell is taking him so long?
With a haughty sigh, I hop down and venture toward the locker area. Another sigh follows close behind the first one. Of course it’s co-ed. Heaven forbid women get any privacy in a man’s world. The way I see it, I have three choices. I could hold it and hope for the best, I could start yelling for Jace to hurry the hell up (which will probably make him take longer in spite), or I can run in, do my business, and leave.
