she’s not going to want it.”
“Then don’t,” I answer simply. If she doesn’t want the help, there’s no fucking reason he should approach her. He’s got a warped sense of reality.
“She’s hurting because of me,” he admits quietly.
Tension grows in every inch of my body. I focus on my breathing, on staying cool and calm. Jay’s violent and hot tempered. I stretch my jaw and look away, trying to convince myself it’s going to be okay. That I can change his mind or stop him from whatever fucked up bullshit he thinks is going to happen.
“I have to,” he says with conviction as if he read my mind.
It’s only then that I see the dark circles under his eyes and how weary he looks. “Maybe you-” I speak without thinking, just trying to keep him appeased and take control of the situation.
“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head before I can even finish. His body looks just as tense as mine as he pushes off the truck. I think he’s going to leave, but instead, he starts pacing, running his hands through his thick short hair. “It’s because of me,” he confesses without stopping as his strangled voice repeats in nearly a whisper, “It’s because of me.”
My chest squeezes tight with pain watching him like this. It’s been years. I haven't seen him break down since we were children. Weak. Pathetic.
The words whisper in the back of my head and he stops in his tracks, turning slowly, giving me a deadly look as if I said them out loud. For a moment, I think I may have. But he relaxes his stance and walks toward me slowly, stopping a few feet from me.
“She needs help.”
“Then get her help from someone else.” I answer him simply, licking my lower lip and hoping he’ll reconsider whatever his plans are.
His eyes narrow slightly as he cocks his head, an asymmetric grin growing on his face. “She’s going to help me, too.” The way he says the words, so softly, with so much confidence and conviction, forces me to stare into his eyes, realizing there’s no way to get him to stop.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, crossing my arms and trying my damnedest to just stay calm.
“I just want to get her alone and talk to her.”
“Kidnapping-” The word is ripped from my throat before he cuts me off.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, his own hands balling into fists so tightly his knuckles turn white. The air is tense and thick between us. The sun setting makes the garage darker than it was only moments ago.
“You want me to help you kidnap her?” I ask him, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice. The smile stays in place on his lips as he searches my eyes for something. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded photograph. It’s been creased twice, once down the middle and again at an angle off-center. He smooths it in his palm, finally looking away from me and answering, “I don’t need help there, John.” His voice is sad, as if he already regrets taking her.
He passes me the photo, flattening it against my chest with a hard thud and not letting go until I reach up to take the photo with my own hand.
“I just want you there to watch.”
Adrenaline pumps through me at his request, anger rising in me. “And what am I going to be watching?”
“I just want to talk to her. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to fix her.”
“Then get her help-”
“She’s a shrink now,” he says quickly. His eyes water slightly and he sniffs, looking away to take in a ragged breath. He licks his lower lip and looks back at me, willing me to understand. “She tried to kill herself,” he says in an even voice I don’t trust. “She grew up okay, you know?” He shakes his head once and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know she wasn’t okay. I didn’t know.” I don’t know if he’s talking to me or to himself. His face is scrunched up with genuine pain.
“Who is she?”
“She’s just a girl. I broke her, and I need to fix her.” The strength in his tone solidifies his plan. He wraps his hand around the thin railing to the steps and mutters under his breath so low I almost don’t hear him as he walks away, “And she’s going to fix me.”
“You won’t