Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,98
people. You and Ian … you’re good people.”
A hint of a smile moved Jersey’s mouth as she thought about Ian’s words. We’re terrible people …
Maybe good people could do bad things without being truly terrible.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Shane’s bringing Ian home later.” Max stayed the night with Jersey, helping her take a shower and making her breakfast the next morning.
Jersey sipped her coffee, her leg propped up on a chair.
“Do you care what happens to Chris’s—Kessler’s body?”
Jersey coughed. “I stuck a knife into his skull before slitting his throat. I think we’ve established I don’t care what happens to his body.”
Max nodded, not showing any emotion in her reaction to Jersey’s words.
“He was sick. Mentally not well. That’s what Ian said.”
With a shrug, Jersey shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know.” She wondered if Ian truly believed that. Jersey did. The way he reacted to being called Kessler—being accused of killing the Russells—it wasn’t defensive. It was denial. Like the idea of it tore him up inside, the way he’d wake from a nightmare. Ian shook Chris’s whole world, scrambling everything where down was up and up was down, and he just … cracked.
Max would never know the truth. She would never know that Ian saved Jersey with a baseball bat. The proverbial kidney. Her rock star was raped and beaten, ridiculed, and treated like a girl—but she would never know. Ian went to great lengths to bury his past. And Jersey tried to unearth it. Wake the dead.
Jersey’s breath hitched when she heard the door open. Scooting up a bit on the sofa, she waited for the painful, shameful moment. Max asked Ian if he needed anything. Jersey couldn’t hear his response. After another minute or so, the front door clicked again, and the voices were gone.
Silence.
“Hey,” Ian said from behind her.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Hey.” One word squeezed by the lump in her throat. It hurt to hear his voice. It hurt to be in his proximity. Everything just hurt.
He limped a little, making his way to the chair perpendicular to the sofa. Right in Jersey’s line of vision. Ian eased into it, clearly not able to bend his leg easily. Bruises mottled his face, and gauze covered his left ear.
Jersey’s fingers traced her lips as her sluggish gaze inched along Ian’s body, assessing the damage—assessing her damage.
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t.” Ian shook off her attempt to apologize.
She swallowed her words, nearly choking on them. They were big words, filled with so much regret. She needed to let them out. Clearing her throat, she met his eyes. “Why?”
“Because you did what you did when you thought I killed Dena and Charles.”
“But maybe that doesn’t make it right.”
“It has to.” He turned, averting his gaze to the television screen even though it wasn’t turned on.
“When did you know who he was?”
“When I first saw him.” His attention floated around the room, landing on his leg. He brushed his hand over the bandaged area that peeked out just below his shorts.
“Why didn’t you say something? Why let this go on? Why not tell me? Why hire him to work for you? It makes no sense.”
He rubbed his temples and ran a hand through his hair, cautiously avoiding his ear. Jersey’s eyes filled with tears as her gaze snagged on it.
“Jersey …”
She shook her head, swallowing regret and fighting back the flood of emotion. “Your ear …” The words fell from her lips on a painful sigh.
He gave her a tiny smile. “Bunnies still hop with one ear.” His words reached into her chest and ripped out her heart.
“G …” She covered her face and cried into her hands.
He lumbered to his feet, scooped her up in his arms, and released a restrained groan as he sat on the sofa with the weight of her body balanced between his arms and his good leg.
She waited for his words.
They never came.
He didn’t tell her everything would be okay. G never told her that. G never lied. G offered his arms. His warm body. G threw himself in front of a bus for Jersey and took up arms with a bat, but he never promised everything would be okay.
The tears dried up, and she fell asleep in his arms, like she’d done so many times before. When she woke, he was gone. She followed the soft noises to the kitchen, hobbling in her clunky, black boot.
“Sleep well?” Ian set two bottles of water on the table next to boxes of Chinese takeout.
Jersey nodded,