My eyes dart to the bathroom door. The water’s still running. I might have to drag Rosalie out of here half-naked to make a quick exit.
Standing up, my muscles are tense as I wonder if I walked us into a bad situation. And if I’m going to have to fight my way out.
Jay and I are basically matched in height, but he’s bulkier than I am in the shoulders, so I’m guessing he’s got better upper body strength. Plus, the dude was in prison for almost two years. You have to be scrappy to survive in there. But then I’ve got military combat training.
If I had to take him on, I think I could win.
Jay’s face darkens when he notices my fists at my sides. “Calm down, man. I’m not the bad guy.”
“Why’d you change your mind, then?”
He smirks. “Because Casey won’t let me run our guests off, even if they mean trouble.”
“I don’t want trouble for you—”
Holding up a hand, he cuts me off. “I know. And I’m not gonna say anything, okay? You guys are safe here. I promise.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t you—?”
“Because I wouldn’t trade a friend for cash,” he replies seriously. “You saved my ass, Ethan. You made it possible for me to provide for my family. Plus, there’s something really off about her mom.” He tips his head toward the bathroom. “Like there’s some weird shit going on there.”
This is why I chose Jay to take over my business for me—he has a special way of reading people and evaluating situations for what they really are. As far as I know, he’s never had his IQ tested, but I’d be willing to bet it’s way above average. The fact that he had a shitty childhood derailed his potential in school, but his life is back on track, thanks to me.
I feel like an asshole for assuming he’d throw us under the bus, but I’m just not used to relying on other people.
I sigh, relief flowing through me as I let my guard down. “Has the news made it to Illinois, then?”
“Nah, no trace of your story here yet. I ran your old driver’s license photo through facial recognition software. It led me to the report in Michigan. Also, it’s the weirdest thing.” His face screws up. “I can’t find much on Rosalie Pearson. I mean, she doesn’t even have school records. It’s like she’s been wiped from the system.”
That’s because she was never in the system in the first place, but Jay doesn’t need to know that.
I should’ve known he’d do some digging. With my old laptop and all the tech programs on there, he can probably find just about anyone.
“One night,” I tell him. “That’s all we need.”
“All right, well, here are the conditions. No weapons in the house.” Jay lifts a finger, ticking off the rules. “No drugs. Put your vehicle in the garage so no one sees it. And after you leave, you were never here.”
Grateful, I nod.
Now that I’m not in fight mode, exhaustion hits me with alarming force all over again.
I need to sleep. I’ve gone longer periods of time awake before, but I’d prefer to be at my sharpest while Rosalie and I are on the road.
Jay claps my back as he passes me to go to the bedroom. “You guys can have our bed, and Casey and I will camp out on the air mattress in Gus’s room tonight. I’ll get the sheets changed.”
Craning my neck, I watch him go through the doorway to a somewhat small room with a giant bed. With the nightstand and the dresser, there’s barely any floor space, which means Rosalie and I will probably have to sleep side by side tonight.
Next to each other.
In the same bed.
Fuck.
I’d known our sleeping arrangements were going to get cramped at some point, but that was before we kissed. Before I realized our sexual attraction is off the charts.
I’m not sure Rosalie will be able to keep her hands to herself.
I don’t think I want her to.
I barely recognize myself. All I did was go from a blonde to a brunette, but I can’t get over how different I look. I’m in a dark-blue T-shirt and plaid pajama pants Casey let me borrow, and the reflection in the mirror isn’t me.
This is some other girl. A girl with baggy, casual clothes and a ponytail. A girl who looks like she could be in college.
I like her and all the possibilities at her feet. What lies ahead in the future is a mystery, but anything could happen.
Since Jay cracked our cover, the preggo suit isn’t needed while I’m in the house. It’s kind of nice not carrying all that weight around. It’s also nice that I don’t have to lie about who I am.
Dinner with the family went much better than my ravenous face-stuffing earlier with the diner food. While we ate pizza, there was a lightness to our conversations. Jay and Preston swapped investigator stories, and Casey and I discussed hair and makeup. Gus was good for entertainment, always demanding attention in gibberish. The kid really knows how to own a room.
I’m still wearing the wedding ring. Even though that part of our story is blown, I guess I just like the way it feels on my finger. Tilting my head, I hold my left hand up to my chest next to the lighthouse necklace and watch the way the jewelry sparkles as if they’re a set.
A knock comes at the door. “You decent?”
“Yeah,” I answer, and Preston’s in the room a second later.
He shuts us both in, and the space suddenly feels even smaller with him in here.
Fulfilling my bedtime request, he extends a glass my way. “Your water.”
I take it from him and set it next to my fanny pack on the dresser, then I dig out my baggie of meds. I go for one of the few full pills I keep for special occasions. After the day I had, I need it.
I have the tablet halfway to my mouth when Preston stops me.
“Whoa.” He puts his hand over mine. “What’s that?”
Before I have a chance to explain, he’s plucking the pill from my fingers and snatching the plastic baggie.
“My medicine.” I make a swipe for it, but he spins out of reach.
Inspecting it like the detective he is, he asks, “What is it?”
“Anti-anxiety pills, if you must know.” Geez, he’s nosy.
“What’s the name of the medication?” He puts the pill close to his eye, then licks it.
“Give it back.” Impatient, I make a grabby motion. “I don’t care if you got your spit on it. I’m still taking it. I have to. I can’t sleep without it.”
“You don’t know what this is.” Preston pins me with a stare. It’s not a question. Rather, a conclusion.
I let out an exasperated noise. “No. My mom probably told me at one point, but I don’t remember what it’s called. I mean, how many different anti-anxiety drugs can there be out there?”
As soon as I see Preston’s sympathetic face, I realize the answer is a lot.
There are certain things I’ve blindly trusted my mother with. My mental health was always one of them.
From the skeptical look Preston’s giving me, I gather he thinks that was a mistake.
Suddenly, he tosses the pill into his mouth and swallows.
“What are you doing?” I ask, alarmed as I try to get the bag from him again. And fail again.