Now or Never (2 page)

Chapter Three

Jay

Ice cold water streamed over his face and down his body. Rivulets ran around each of his muscles, coiled tight in frustration and anger. He was not that douchebag uncle of hers. He swore to himself that he would never do anything like
that to her. Never push too far or too fast. But that’s exactly what he’d done. Even if she never asked him to stop—never said anything at all—he knew her. Knew what she could handle. And, more importantly, what she couldn’t. He should have known better. Controlled himself better.

She was just so damn beautiful. Intoxicating. Perfect. The thought alone of her lying there
beneath him—dark hair fanned out across the pillow, soft, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, dark lashes framing bottomless blue eyes. She was stunning, and it was undoing all of the painfully hard work the cold shower had done.

T
hen he heard that noise again. That frightened sound coming from those sweet lips, pulled tight with anxiety. He’d done that to her. Made her look that way, sound that way,
feel
that way. Just like
him
. The last of his pent-up frustration spiraled down the drain as he shut the shower off and groped behind the curtain for a towel.

Dried and dressed in sweats and a hoodie, Jay padded down the hallway. The hardwood flooring was cold under his bare feet, but they couldn’t afford to turn the heat up any higher. They were already pushing it as it was.

Light poured from the small eat-in kitchen where he found Em sitting at the table sipping coffee from her favorite cracked mug. Not long after they’d officially moved in together, he’d spotted it at a local flea market. The corny heart-shaped handle made him think of Em, so he’d brought it home for her. Not long after, when he’d accidentally dropped it while doing the dishes, she’d insisted on gluing it back together. He’d offered to buy her a new mug, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Three months later and it was still the only one she’d use.

“Morning.”

She smiled at him over the rim. “Good morning. Want some?”

Em tipped the cup toward him and he nodded. Before he could tell her he’d get it himself, she was up and pouring him a mug of his own. He settled into the seat beside her as she slid the coffee in front of him. It was going to be a long day. Em was working the morning shift and he had the dinner rush. That meant he’d only see her in passing until sometime tonight.

He hated being apart from her. Their circumstances had changed, but his overwhelming instinct to keep an eye on her at all times had not. He knew he needed to get a handle on it before he stifled her, but that didn’t stop him from being a cranky, anxiety riddled mess every time they were apart.

“What time do you have to be at work?”

Em glanced at the clock on the stove and her face dropped. She didn’t like days like these any better than he did. “I need to leave in five minutes.”

“Do you need a lift?”

“No. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake this early, so I asked Ashlyn to pick me up.” No sooner had she finished speaking than a car horn sounded outside.

Em threw back the last of her coffee. Jay reclined with his and watched with an amused grin on his face as she hopped around the entry way trying to tug on her boots and coat at the same time. Christ, he loved that girl.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight. Love you.” She raced back into the kitchen to plant a quick kiss on him and then she was gone, disappearing out the front door in a burst of icy wind.

Jay sat at the table
listening to Ashlyn’s car pull out of the driveway before getting up and taking his coffee into the living room. Eight hours. He had eight hours to kill before work.

Setting his mug on the aptly named
coffee
table, he trudged back into the kitchen and pulled out the drawer under the microwave. He had shit to take care of while Em was away.

The stack of bills was getting so high they barely fit in the drawer anymore. Everyday more came in the mail and everyday he’d snatch them up and shove them in the drawer before Em could see them. They were his to worry about. And he did. Silently, all day, every day.

They pooled their paychecks, so technically Em helped pay for everything, but she didn’t need to know how tight things were. Jay scooped up the pile and took them back to the couch with him. He was going to need that caffeine.

First things first, they needed to keep what little heat they could afford. Jay tore open the bill and grumbled. It was higher this month than last
, even with the temperature set at a steady fifty-seven degrees. Why the hell hadn’t he bought a house in Florida?

Sitting it on the table beside his mug, he moved on to the rest. Thank Christ the house and truck were paid off.
If nothing else, they had a place to live and a way to get to and from work. It could be worse. It
had
been worse. For a long time. They could handle this.

That still left the gas, electric,
insurance, and fuel. There wasn’t going to be a whole lot leftover for food again this month.

Several envelopes stuffed with hard earned cash later, Jay was wiped. Even the three cups of coffee he’d consumed weren’t helping. Stress was exhausting. He still had six hours before he had to start getting ready for work.

Tossing the envelopes in the mailbox for the mailman to take, he collapsed on the couch. It wasn’t quite long enough to accommodate his height, but if he curled his knees, it was comfortable enough. The TV droned on quietly in the corner but he couldn’t focus on it. His eyes were already slipping shut. These sleepless nights were killer.

***

“Em?” It was dark, but he knew she was close. He could feel her. Hear her. She was frightened. “Em? Baby, where are you?”

“Jay!” She was terrified.

“Em! Em, what’s wrong? Where are you?” He searched the darkness frantically, but he couldn’t see a thing. “Em?”

“Help me!”

Heart pounding, Jay tried desperately to follow the sound of her voice, but it seemed to echo off of some unseen walls and bounce all around him. “Em, I’m coming!”

Where was she?

A pale glow pierced the distant darkness. As it grew closer, two lights shone brightly against the pitch backdrop.
Headlights
. The squeal of tires cut through the thick silence. He couldn’t hear Em anymore.

“Em?
”

“Jay!” As the car bore down on him, two figure
s suddenly appeared in its beam.

Em struggled against a large man. He pulled her closer, wrapping his meaty arms around her torso and pinning her arms to her sides.

“Em!”

When
he
lowered his mouth to hers, Jay took off in a furious sprint.

“Get off her, you son of a bitch!” Jay angled his approach to slam right into the bastard, but at the last possible moment
he
shifted, shoving Em away from him and right into the path of the speeding car.

Jay could do nothing more than watch in horror as it slammed into her with a grinding crunch. Her body went flying, coming to rest in a heap on the hard ground twenty feet away.

No
.
This wasn’t happening. Not again. No.

“Em.” Jay dropped to his knees at her side. “Baby, look at me. Em?”

Crimson blood trailed down her face and her neck lay bent at an awkward angle. Cuts and bruises marred her limp body.

“No. Em, baby, please.” Tears burned like fire in his eyes as he brushed the blood-caked hair from her face. Her eyes stared back at him
, cold, vacant.

“You think you can help her? Save her? Protect her?” Jay whirled around
, intent on pounding the shit out of the monster who’d done this to her, but he was gone. In his place stood a face far more terrifying.

“Stay away from her!” Jay reached back for Em, but she was gone, too. His heart slammed against his ribs in a violent assault.

“She doesn’t need you anymore. You don’t deserve her. You can’t keep her safe. You’ll only hurt her.”

“I would never—!”

“That’s what you tell yourself, now. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself . . . until it’s too late. You’re toxic, Julian. Poison to everyone around you. You’re responsible for your mother’s death. You’ll be responsible for hers, as well.”

“Nooooo . . .”

A shrill ringing accompanied Jay’s vocal roar back into the land of the living. His chest ached from how hard his heart was pounding as the house phone continued to demand his attention.

A dream. Only a dream.

No, a
nightmare
. His worst fucking nightmare.

Chapter Four

Em

“I can’t believe you’re covering for that bitch.” Ash weaved through the morning traffic at a pace that had taken Em some getting used to. At least she didn’t clutch the door handle for dear life every time they were in a car together anymore.

“She offered me her weekend shift and I can really use the tips.”

“Still . . .” Ashlyn shook her head and honked long and hard at the jerk who cut her off. “I don’t get why you’d do anything to help
her
out. I wouldn’t help her out and it isn’t even my boyfriend she’s gunning for.”

It was true. Sahara had had a thing for Jay from the day they started working together and she
made no bones about showing it every chance she got, despite the fact that it was common knowledge him and Em were together. But, money was money and every little bit helped.

Em sighed, resting her head against the cool glass of the window. The sun was starting to rise and the glimpses she caught of the horizon between buildings were beautiful.

“Tired?”

Em nodded without dragging her gaze from the window.

“The nightmares?”

Em nodded again.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” There wasn’t much to tell Ashlyn
that she didn’t already know.

Em and Jay’s past wasn’t common knowledge by any means. They’d worked hard to
keep their private lives private. But Ashlyn was the most persistent person Em had even met. The girl was like a leech—only friendlier—and if there was something she really set her mind to, it was damn near impossible to stop her. Getting to know Em seemed to have become her life’s mission not long after they met. The allure of the unknown, maybe. But Em was afraid Ashlyn had bitten off more than she could chew when one night in a fit of sleep-deprived, stress-induced hysteria, Ash had found her sobbing her eyes out in the bathroom at work. She’d broken down and told her. Everything. All of it. Her entire story.

When she’d finally gotten a grip, Ash hadn’t looked at her with disgust or even pity. She’d simply grabbed some toilet paper and help Em clean up before they went back to work. That sealed it. Ashlyn was the first real friend she’d had, besides Jay, since . . . forever.

“Same old, same old.”

“Your uncle again?”

“Who else?”

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Em. You’re safe now. You’re golden. And we’re about to go kick some breakfast ass!” Her enthusiasm over
defeating the morning meal made Em smile. Besides being persistent, Ashlyn was also the most energetic person Em had ever met. She was the perfect counterbalance to Em’s usual timidness.

***

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Em followed closely behind Ashlyn as she burst into the small hole-in-the-wall eatery they called work in all of her morning glory.

Mason glared back at her from behind the ticket counter where he was tying on his apron. “If I have to smell those eggs and bakey much longer, I might hurl.”

“Aww, big night last night, Mas?”

He groaned and pocketed an order pad, passing another apron to Em. “Don’t remind me.”

The sea foam green color of the apron clashed horribly with Em’s purple sweater, but it wasn’t like there was any kind of dress code at Bart’s, or the type of patrons who actually cared.

The ding of the kitchen bell drew their attention to where Bart was sliding the day’s first plate of food onto the serving counter. Ash
laughed out loud as Mason’s face turned nearly the same shade of pale green as the somewhat questionable eggs.

“You sure you’re okay to work?”
Em asked.

He smiled at
her concern. “I think I’ll survive, but tequila and I are having a serious conversation about our love-hate relationship after this.”

“It does sort of look like it’s hating you right now.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” Mason scooped up the plate and headed for a table where a silver haired couple sat waiting, stopping just long enough to shoot her a grin at the end of the counter. “But it loved me last night.”

Ash actually snorted with laughter as she pushed past Em to scan their section assignments for the day. The restaurant was broken up into three sections—front,
rear, and bar area—each with its own server. It was a seat yourself sort of situation, so tips depended largely on where the customers chose to sit. Em groaned inwardly when she saw she was assigned to the rear section. Bar was the best—drinks led to bigger tips—and the front section did well since people tended to sit at the first empty table they came to, which meant she wouldn’t see customers until the place started filling up.

“Score!” Ash spun around in a little circle causing her apron to flare out
, and Em to wish she could bottle up some of the girl’s energy and drink it.

She headed over toward her first customers near the bar, wide grin on her face, while Mason rejoined Em behind the counter.

“Did you want to switch sections today?” No doubt Mason knew she could use the money, but Em wasn’t keen on being anyone’s charity case.

“No. I’m fine. I can just—”

“I could really use the break, actually.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his golden brown hair. “Remind me never to party with Tom again. That guy’s nuts.”

“Isn’t he working today?”

“I seriously doubt it. If he’s smarter than I am, he’ll call in sick. That is if he even wakes up before sometime next week.”

Mason seemed sincere enough in his request that she took pity on him. “Okay, I’ll cover the front.”

“Thanks, Em. You’re a lifesaver.”

Within the hour, the place was hopping. Especially considering it was a weekday. Didn’t these people have jobs? Em’s feet were sore, but the heavy tug of tips in her apron pocket was a constant reminder of why that was a good thing.

Calls for refills, order changes, and checks came at her from all sides, making her head spin. Sleep deprivation was doing a serious number on her jangled nerves. She was in the middle of taking an order from the world’s most indecisive woman—how many questions could you really ask about an omelet?—when the table next to her requested more ketchup. The woman chose that moment to make up her mind and started rattling off a customized order that did not include any kind of omelet at all.

Em had to bite back a frustrated scream as she scrambled to jot down what the woman was telling her
, while the irate mother of four screaming children waved an empty ketchup bottle at her.

“Relax.” Mason’s hand folded over her shoulder in a quick squeeze. “I’ll handle the Great Ketchup Shortage on table two.”

He was gone again before she could thank him, and her nerves settled a bit. On her way to put in the order, Em surveyed Mason’s section. It wasn’t as jam-packed as hers, but he had several of his own customers to worry about. He didn’t need to be picking up her slack.

Bart’s knuckles bru
shed over the back of her hand—
accidentally
she was sure—as she passed him the order. Jerking away from him, Em turned to find the three tables she’d just cleared had already refilled with waiting customers.

Part of her wanted to throw in h
er apron and call it a day. But then Mason was there, stepping up to one of her tables and pulling out his order pad. Dammit. She could do this.

“Mason, you don’t have to—”

“I got this. Why don’t you go take care of tables five and seven?”

She wanted to argue, but he was right, other things required her attention first. He kept at it all morning, stepping in whenever she got overwhelmed, covering extra tables, and even
helping to bus them. But as she passed each vacated table, the tip money sat untouched on top. Collecting the nearly twenty dollars, she managed to corner him behind the ticket counter.

“Here. This is yours.”

“It’s from your tables, Em.” Mason held up his hands, taking a step back.

“Tables
you
covered. It’s yours. Take it.” She thrust the money at him, but he refused to budge.

“It was the least I could do. You covered that section all morning for me. I owe you. Keep it.”

“You don’t owe—”

“Keep the money and I won’t. We can call it even.” He folded his arms and all hope of winning the argument went right out the window.

“Thank you.” Em had trouble meeting his eyes as she shoved the tip money into her pocket and went to collect her next order from the kitchen.

She managed to avoid Bart’s friendly hands this time around, but could feel his eyes boring into her back all the way across
the restaurant, making her skin crawl. He wasn’t really dangerous. Just creepy. When she got back to the ticket counter, Mason was glaring at the now vacant kitchen window.

“If he doesn’t quit leering at you like some damn creeper, you should sue for sexual harassment.”

“I kind of need this job, Mason.”

“I don’t. I’ll kick his ass for you if you want me to.” His grin was playful, but there was a hint of sincerity behind his offer. If she asked, he really would do it.

“
You’re
going to kick
Bart’s
ass?” The disbelief wasn’t meant to be insulting, just honest. Mason definitely hit the gym on a regular basis, but Bart easily cleared two-hundred-and-fifty some odd pounds. Most of which was not muscle mass, but still . . .

“What? You afraid he might sit on me?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Mason tossed his arm over her shoulders with a friendly chuckle. “I’d risk being
flattened like a pancake to protect your honor, Em.”

She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing while Mason grinned like a fool.