CHAPTER SEVEN
We’ve been driving for a while, not speaking, with only music for company. Jake’s not heading in the direction of home. I want to ask where he’s taking me. I’ve wanted to ask for a while now, but I don’t want to be the first to break the silence.
I hate when we fight like this.
We didn’t even get to see Vintage play. Or say good-bye to Zane. I bet he thinks Jake and I are crazy together.
In many ways we are.
Jake takes a sudden turn down an unmarked treelined track and presses a call into his phone, which is nestled in the hands-free.
Dave’s voice fills the car. “Everything okay?”
“Wait at the top. Make sure nobody comes down here.”
Jake clicks the phone off.
I hadn’t even realised Dave was following us. It makes sense; he’s only ever a step behind Jake.
We reach a clearing that opens out to a cliff-top panoramic view of LA. Even better than the view at home.
All the glittering, twinkly lights of the city of angels are before us. Or more like Jake’s city of sin.
A city I’m not wholly sure I belong in.
Jake kills the engine but leaves the music playing.
“I come here when I need to think,” he says without looking at me.
“Do you need to think now?” I ask, turning my head in his direction, my heart beating a hard rhythm.
He meets my eyes in the dark. “No. But we do need to talk.”
Jake climbs out of the car without another word, and I follow suit.
I meet him around the front of the car, where he’s leant up against it, legs crossed in front of him, arms folded over his chest.
I set myself beside him, leaving a gap. The gap of our fight. I wrap my arms around myself. “What happened at the club will be in the news tomorrow.” It’s not a question, I already know the answer.
“Yes.”
Crap.
“And I’m pretty sure I’ll get a call from the cops soon too.”
That gets my attention. “Why?”
“Because he’ll file a charge for assault.”
“But you didn’t hit him.”
“No, but I threw him to the ground.”
Jefferson was after a story. That’s why he kept pushing Jake. It’s my fault. That’s probably why he asked me to dance in the first place. I’m such an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “What will you do?”
“Pay him to drop the charges.”
“Seriously?” I gape.
“Money makes everything go away, Tru.”
“Except our problems.” I sigh.
“Yeah, everything but those.” He unfurls his arms, resting his hands on the car.
I want to touch him, hold him—it’s killing me not to—but I feel like I can’t at the moment, and I’m not entirely sure why.
“Why didn’t you take us home?” I ask, quietly.
“Because I want our home to be full of happy memories, not memories of us fighting. I grew up in a house where arguments were a daily occurrence, and trust me, fights stick to the walls of houses like f**kin’ glue. I don’t want that for us.” He drags his hands through his hair, hanging them off the back of his neck, letting out a sigh.
“I thought getting the new house would make things easier for you, but this place is covered in every single f**kin’ mistake I made before I got you back.” He gestures his open hand to the city below. “And aside from leaving LA, I don’t know what else to do to make it easier for you.”
He sounds hopeless. Defeated. I hate to hear him like this.
But now, after tonight’s events, leaving LA is one thing I would happily do. Move away from Jake’s past, go back to the UK together, and build a life together there…but his business is here, and I can’t ask him to leave that behind.
“I don’t either,” I mumble in response, chewing my thumbnail.
“I don’t want to lose you because of who I used to be.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“I don’t want to lose you either.”
Without looking at me, he reaches over and takes the hand at my mouth. Holding it, he intertwines our fingers.
My skin burns at his touch.
“The irony,” he says, “is that we’re both jealous because we love each other so much. God, Tru, when I saw that guy’s hands on you, my head went. Just the thought of another man near you, touching you…it drives me f**kin’ crazy. I can’t see straight when it comes to you. It’s not rational, I know. But it is what it is, and I can’t change it.”
“Just like I can’t change that whenever we go out, I’m looking around the room, wondering which, if not all, of the women you’ve had sex with.” My breath catches hard in my chest. Just saying the words cuts me to the bone. “Honestly, I don’t know how to get past it,” I add quietly.
Leaving me, Jake pushes off the car and walks toward the edge of the cliff top.
I stare at his silhouetted form, and for that moment, Jake cuts a solitary figure.
I wonder what he’s thinking.
God, I hope he isn’t thinking the only way is for us to break up. I know he just said he doesn’t want to lose me, but what if he feels it’s all too much for him? That there’s no other way?
We can’t break up. We can’t.
“Where do we go from here?” My voice is quiet, knowing we’ve reached a crossroads. One I didn’t see coming.