Chapter Four: Addy

Addy unlocked the doors and turned up the heat as the man slid into the passenger’s side of the car, dripping wet from the storm. She caught the lingering odor of cigarettes on his clothes, mixed with the refreshing scent of rain, and the sudden desire to lean into him and bury her head in his chest was both horrifying and humiliating.

“I appreciate it,” he said. He shut the door and reached for the seat belt. “You’d be shocked at how many people just don’t give a damn anymore.”

“Shocked I am not,” Addy said, merging back onto the freeway. “But you saved my ass by helping me out, so it’s the least I could do.”

The man flipped off the hood and smiled at her, his lips curling into a self-assured grin. She knew that look. Cocky, arrogant, but mostly sexy.

“I’m Jay.”

“Addy,” she said.

“Nice to meet you.” He half-smiled again, and Addy noticed how alluring Jay’s deep, rumbling tone was to her. Ryan was a handsome man, but there was something different about Jay, something that captivated her attention from the very moment she’d laid eyes on him.

“Where are you headed?” Addy tore her gaze from tired lines in his face. Getting hot and bothered with the new guy was not on her agenda for the night, even if he was cute enough to make her tingle in the most inappropriate of places.

“Wherever I can get,” Jay said. He settled back into the seat but offered nothing else.

“That won’t be far,” she said. “But I can take you into town, save you about ten miles.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Are you from around here?”

“Seattle,” he said. “That’s where I live.”

“What are you doing in Lakewood?” The town she lived in was forty miles out of the city, if not more, and it was clear he’d been walking for hours.

“Just walking through.”

“In the rain?”

“Yes.”

“And the dark?”

“Yes.”

“Away from home and not to it?”

“Yes,” Jay said. He met her gaze. Those electric blue eyes were flashing—with what, she couldn’t tell. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Yes. I hate small talk, but I hate awkward silences even more.”

“So, you just can’t win,” Jay said. Addy leaned down to turn on the radio, hoping to ease the tension in the air. One of her favorite songs, I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers, played softly in the background, and she nodded her head to the beat.

“You know I’m just trying to be friendly,” she muttered, and raised one hand from the wheel in surrender, knowing that if they weren’t making conversation, she’d be left to her own devices, none of which her fiancé would be happy to hear about.

“Don’t try so hard,” Jay said. He was still looking at her; his eyebrows furrowed as though trying to read a story in the lines etched on her face. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What doesn’t suit me?” she asked. “Trying to be friendly?”

“Yes, that. It seems like you’d rather do anything but be friendly.”

“You make me sound like I appear a total bitch,” Addy said.

“Not a bitch,” Jay corrected her. “Just… tenacious.”

“That’s a big word.”

“Sometimes, I study the dictionary for something to do.” Jay tilted his head to study her, eyes unblinking, taking her in. He smiled again, and Addy felt a warm tingling sensation up and down her spine. She pursed her lips and turned her attention back to the road so she wouldn’t get them into an accident.

As they drove in silence, Jay’s foot tapped restlessly against the floor mat. Addy glanced over at him, trying not to stare as he fidgeted. He seemed anxious, edgy, but he’d already clarified that he wasn’t up to discussing his little adventure with her. Even seemingly anxious, she couldn’t draw her side-eye away from the disheveled black hair he kept running a hand through. A nervous tick, it must have been.

A moment later, Jay dug into the backpack he’d been carrying and pulled out a damp pack of cigarettes. Addy cringed, about to tell him not to light up, but then remembered the night she’d just had with Ryan, and all fucks flew out the window.

“Mind if I bum one?” she said instead. Jay took two out of the pack, lighting hers and then his. Smoking had never been her thing, but since she didn’t have the sharp edge of a razor blade handy, the menthols would have to do.

She took a drag on the cigarette, eyes watering as the stale smoke hit her lungs. She gagged, and Jay reached over to slap her on the back a few times as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Wrong pipe,” she gasped. As she fought to combat the sharp tickle in her throat, she rubbed her chest. When she pulled her hand away, Jay was staring at her.

“What happened there?” he asked.

Addy could only assume he wasn’t talking about her breasts because, as a woman, she had no control over any aspect of that nature.

“I bruise easily,” she said. She zipped up her jacket to hide the mark. “I don’t know. Maybe I ran into a door.”

“Chest first?” Jay asked. “Or did it attack you before you could attack it?”

The flush in Addy’s skin was no longer out of lust, but degradation and shame. This stranger was reading her like an open book, and she hated that. Not even Lisa had noticed the little things like the bruises and the cuts in all the years they’d known each other.

“Is there somewhere you’d like me to take you?”

Jay was sitting back in the seat now, still tapping his foot, the cigarette burning between his fingers. She squirmed under his gaze, body heating up with every passing second.

“You’re staring at me,” she said. “Knock it off.”

He didn’t, not at once, but after a moment he rolled down the window and flicked the cigarette out into the rain. Addy did the same, realizing that it had done little for her besides make her mouth taste bad and Ryan’s car smell like a bar. He would be so pleased when she returned it to him.

“You can drop me off wherever,” Jay said.

The rain had lifted, though not by much, and Addy knew it was only a matter of time before it was thundering down on them again. The cold and wet was plentiful in Washington, not that she minded. It suited her mood just fine most of the time.

“This is as far as I go,” Addy said as she eased the SUV into the tiny town of Lakewood. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

She pulled to the curb and turned off the engine, disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing this guy around anymore. He seemed like good company, and he was easy on the eyes, but something about him took away every ounce of common sense and control she thought she had.

“Thanks for the ride,” Jay said. “Sorry about your bruise. Don’t, you know, fall into any more doors. No one deserves that shit. Kill the door.”

Silence settled between them as they stared at each other. Addy’s cheeks flared again, and she had to suck in a mouthful of air to keep breathing regularly. She opened her mouth to reply to his comment, then thought better of it and closed it. She averted her gaze back to the windshield, squinting into the darkness as her eyes caught sight of the deputy’s patrol car lit up near the convenience store. The lights were blurry through the rain, but there was no mistaking them.

“Must be another robbery from one of the punk kids,” she said. Her hands shook as she tried to detour the conversation in another direction. She cleared her throat and rolled down the window a crack. The icy wind hit her face, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Beside her, Jay hesitated in his seat, his gaze following hers, eyes catching sight of the same flashing lights.

“Cops.”

Addy didn’t know if he was talking to her or himself. “Lakewood’s finest.”

The slight buzz from the alcohol was wearing off, and she wanted to go back to the party and get smashed, with or without Ryan. Get drunk, fall into bed, and try to sleep, then wake up and go to class. Every day, all day, like a recurring moment in time.

Groundhog Day.

Lost in her thoughts, it took a moment for Addy to fathom that there was no immediate reaction from beside her. As she averted her eyes from the flashing lights in front of them and looked at Jay, her heart fluttered against her ribcage. She knew there was something wrong before it even happened. She could feel it—like walking into a graveyard at night or footsteps in an empty house. Before she could open her mouth to speak, however, Jay made his move. Something sharp pressed against the side of her abdomen, and she sucked in a breath so quick and hard she almost choked.

Jay leaned over the seat, his breath hot on her neck, the smell of cigarettes and rain no longer subtle, but sharp, stifling her.

“Turn on the car and drive us out of here right now, or I’ll have to kill you.”