Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn
42
Charlotte
I jogged until I reached the main road, then slowed down. I waited for Jayce to come running after me, or to roar by on his bike to beg for my forgiveness and explain everything away. But he didn’t.
His absence as I walked the three miles back to the motel felt like an admission of guilt. He couldn’t chase after me because there was no explanation for his actions. No magic words that would absolve him of his sins. After a mile I got so sick to my stomach thinking about the situation that I vomited on the side of the road. It made me feel better, but only a little.
I’d been sleeping with a jerk. “An asshole,” I said out loud, savoring the curse. The word jerk wasn’t strong enough for this situation. I’d been sleeping with a guy who would let me die for an amount of money equivalent to a brand new Honda Civic.
And Jayce had let his sister die for it.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I felt used, like he’d been hiding his true self all this time. Surely I wouldn’t have slept with him all these nights if I had really known who he was.
But I knew that wasn’t really true. I’d been attracted to him the moment he laughed at me in that jail cell my first night in Eastland. There was something about Jayce that I couldn’t resist. His true nature was part of that attraction.
And as I walked home, the truth began to sink in. I wasn’t mad at Jayce. At least, not primarily.
I’m angry at myself for falling in love with him.
The black hole in my stomach was the ache of terrible betrayal. It hurt far more than learning Scott had been sleeping with Tammy, and worse than any other break-up I’d had in high school or college. No matter how much I wanted to pretend like it wasn’t true, I had fallen madly in love with Jayce. I’d been waiting for him to finish his community service and profess his love for me. To drive me out of town on his motorcycle, and then we would ride off into the sunset toward some unknown future together.
My chest legitimately felt like it had been smashed with a crowbar. Maybe it would have been better if Sid had done the job weeks ago.
Miraculously, I never saw anyone on the road back, which meant I didn’t have to dive into the woods to hide. But it was a humid night, the kind where just walking made you sticky. By the time I reached the motel I was sweaty and upset. Instead of taking a shower, I collapsed straight into bed and cried myself to sleep.
He doesn’t care about me, I thought as I wept. He only cares about his bag of cash.
I woke the next morning to Jayce’s familiar smell. A surge of hope filled me that it was all a bad dream, that we were sleeping together in his barn, but then I realized where I was and the source of his comforting smell: I was still wearing his t-shirt.
I pulled it over my head, balled it up, and threw it in the trash bin next to the bed.
I got ready for the day with renewed purpose: to get the heck out of this awful town. Every part of my routine held a special note of finality: the last shower I would take in this motel. The final time I would brush my teeth in front of this sink. The last cup of slightly off-tasting tap water I would drink.
I packed my belongings and put them in the back seat of my car. For good measure, I started the engine just to make sure the battery hadn’t died. It purred to life as it should. Out of all the things that might stop me from leaving Eastland today, mechanical trouble would not be one of them.
“Hey Billy,” I said as I walked into the lobby. He’d been snoring with his head tilted back in his chair, and jerked awake like a frightened animal. “This is my last day.”
“Oh, right.” He actually looked kind of sad. “All right then. You payin’ your balance?”
“That’s the idea.” I pulled out my checkbook. “Hey, when are checks deposited?”
He frowned. “I dunno. You’d have to ask the sheriff. He does all the money stuff.”
I hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d do me a favor.”
He blinked. “I guess?”
“If I write you a check for my balance, maybe wait a few days before giving it to him? Just to make sure the money clears my account.”
“Aww, man,” Billy replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “I would, but the sheriff always grabs the checks the day I get ‘em. He don’t like havin’ them floating around. Kinda paranoid. Hey, you want to just give the check straight to him? You’re seein’ him today, right?”
“I am.” I had to meet with him to sign the release paperwork when my three remaining hours were done. “Yeah, I’ll just give the check to him.” I gave him a nod. “Thanks for everything, Billy. Have a nice life.” I turned to the door.
“Charlotte?” He was blushing and staring down at the desk. “You’ve been a real nice guest. Usually it’s just me sittin’ here all night in an empty motel, or some of those Copperheads rentin’ rooms and trashin’ them and whatnot. It’s been nice havin’ someone like you around instead.”
I smiled at the kid. I was strangely touched by his affection. “I’ll miss you too, Billy. And your three-dollar bags of M&Ms.”
I walked to main street and began thinking about what I would say to Jayce. I was dreading seeing him because there wasn’t anything to say. He would either pretend like I was mistaken about my assumptions, or he would lean into it and tell me that’s who he really was. Whichever way it went, I didn’t want to hear it.
The dread grew in my chest as I got closer to town. It was like walking into class to take a test I never studied for. I wanted to turn and run back to the motel, to call Mindy and tell her I was too sick to do the work.
That would only delay my exit from this awful town, but the desire was so strong it was difficult just to keep moving forward.
Yet as I arrived on the main street, there was no white truck parked outside the community center. No guilty-looking man with crystal blue eyes and a smile that would make me forget all the reasons I was angry.
I sat on the bench and waited. I browsed Twitter, waited some more, and then looked at the clock. It was fifteen past eight. I could call or text him to make sure he was okay…
No. That would be a mistake. I didn’t care anymore. Instead, I went into the diner to ask Mindy.
“There she is,” Flop said from the first booth. He had a mug of coffee in his hand and a half-eaten cinnamon roll on his plate. “Last day here, right?”
“It sure is.”
“Lucky you,” he said with a sad smile. A smile that held my secrets. “Don’t dawdle on your way out. Run, and don’t look back, you hear?”
“I plan to.”
Mindy came out of the kitchen holding a plate with a cinnamon roll the size of a baseball glove. “Heard you missed my last batch. Made another for your last day.”
“You didn’t have to do that!” I began, but she waved it off.
“Nobody ever earned brownie points by turning down free food. Sit down and have some breakfast. I’ll consider it community service in helping test a new recipe.”
I obeyed and immediately dug in with a fork. The cinnamon roll was so fluffy that my fork cut through it with ease, and the icing was hot and gooey.
“Should I wait for Jayce?” I asked as Mindy poured me some coffee. “He isn’t here yet.”
Mindy raised an eyebrow. “So today’s the day he stopped coming?” She laughed to herself. “About time he quit. Surprised he kept it up this long.”
I almost started to defend Jayce by telling her he was always a model citizen when it came to the community service, but I stopped myself. He didn’t need me to defend him, nor did he deserve it.
“You can do the work by yourself,” she said. “It’s an easy day. Unless you’ve got bad allergies?”
“I do not,” I said with my mouth full.
The work sheet instructed me to use a broom to brush all the yellow pollen off the main street of town. It was the time of year where it fell in giant yellow clouds, coating everything in sight. But I didn’t have allergies at all, so sweeping the road one yard at a time was calm, relaxing work.
The only thing stressful about it was waiting to see if Jayce showed up. Every time I heard a truck or motorcycle come rumbling up the road I tensed, but it was never him. I was alone.
Which was exactly what I wanted. To quietly finish my work and get the heck out of this town. Jayce showing up would only complicate things.
At least, that’s what I told myself. The ache in my gut tried to convince me otherwise.
I finished my work and then visited Mindy again. She pulled out the master sheet of community service, marked me down for the final three hours, and then had me sign at the bottom.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it.” She smiled, but only for a moment. “Looks like your ride is here.”
The sheriff’s cruiser pulled up to the community center and parked. I took a deep breath and went out to meet him.