Chapter 57: CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Three hours later, Jarel texts Angelo that he’s home, and Angelo drives me to the condo.
When he opens the door, Jarel is wearing a sleeveless shirt, and a sling holds his left arm close to his chest.
“Looking good,” Angelo says, walking in behind me.
“Thanks, man. I thought it was my style.”
“Definitely suits you.”
I don’t share their humor, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the bandage peeking from under his shirt.
“It’s crazy,” Jarel says. “It was a simple through-and-through.” He begins pointing around the bandage. “The doctor said if the bullet had hit here, or here, or here, I would’ve needed surgery and months of rehab. It’s like it went out of its way to miss anything important.”
“Matt saved your life,” Angelo says.
“Yeah, he did. I was actually thinking about that. Do you remember… I think it was our sophomore year, but it might have been freshman. We went on that weird nature retreat thing, and they taught us hatchet throwing. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah… vaguely.”
“I hadn’t thought about it in years, but I think Matt placed when we bet on that dumb competition thing. He got like… second place, maybe?”
Angelo nods. “This does sound familiar. I guess a hatchet and a steak knife aren’t that far apart on a scale of sharp, throwable objects.”
Jarel laughs. “Guess not.” He glances at me, and his tone completely shifts. “How is she?”
“Struggling,” Angelo replies, as if I’m not in the room. “She keeps expecting one of us to be pissed, and her nervous system is still activated.”
“And you?” Jarel asks.
“I’m all right. I’m going to go spend some time with Jack and Jola. You’re okay here?”
“We’re okay,” Jarel says. “Have a good night, man.”
Angelo puts his arm around me. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay, love?”
I nod. “Thanks, Angelo.”
He squeezes my shoulder before waving to Jarel and shutting the door behind him.
I’m still staring at Jarel’s sling, and now, he’s giving me his full attention.
“I’m fine,” he says flatly. “It’ll heal.”
“Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Adrenaline did its job until I got to the ER, and they gave me pain meds. It’s more of a dull ache. I’ve had worse.”
I swallow. “It should’ve been me.”
“Don’t.”
I finally move my stare from the sling to his eyes. “I made a mistake, Jarel.”
“What does your body need right now?”
I take a deep breath, and he waits. Then I slip off my shoes and walk to his bedroom. He follows me and closes the door behind us.
I climb onto his made bed, and he lies down beside me.
“Anything else?” he asks.
I grip his right hand, and his thumb slowly strokes mine. “I don’t know what to do, Jarel.”
“About the paper you stole?”
I turn my whole body to look at him.
“I saw,” he says. “You still have it?”
I reach into my bra and pull it out.
“Why did you take it?”
I bite my lip. “I can’t tell you that.”
“What’s on it?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You can’t tell me? Baby, it’s me. I’m the guy you tell.”
I shake my head. “Not this time.”
He watches me, seemingly searching for silent answers. “Tell me one thing. Just like I did with you. One thing that’ll help me understand.”
I bite my lip and rub the paper between my thumb and index finger. “I made a mistake. When Damon and I were still together, I made a horrible, regrettable mistake.” I hold up the paper. “This is the proof.”
He gently whispers, “Easy.”
I realize I’m squeezing his hand far too hard, and I deliberately relax my grip. “Sorry.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers before setting it back on the bed. “What happens if the police get that?”
“Assuming that I”m not charged with evidence tampering for lifting it in the first place?”
He nods. “Assuming that.”
“Depends on the temperament of the prosecutor and judge.”
“At best?” he asks.
“A few weeks of community service.”
“At worst?”
I swallow. “Several years in prison.”
He cocks his head, and I’m terrified that he’s seeing me differently.
“I made a mistake,” I whisper.
“Is there anything you can do to rectify the situation?”
“I already tried. Damon had fucked things up too much by the time… I fixed as much as I could. I just have to live with the rest.” I shake my head. “There’s nothing else I can do… except go to jail for a while.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes. “How much of this is Damon’s fault?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I ask rhetorically. “His lawyer would have argued that without my mistake, Damon wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place. My lawyer would argue that Damon made his own decisions, and the only thing I’m guilty of is a lack of foresight.”
“And what do you think?” he asks gently.
I take a shaky breath. “I think sometimes good people fuck up.”
“That’s what I think too,” he says. “And if they’ve sincerely done everything they can do to fix it, they shouldn’t rot in prison because of it.”
“What do I do, Jarel?”
He squeezes my hand and starts to stand. “Come with me, baby.”
I follow him into the second bedroom, and he picks up a metal trash can that looks antique. “Take this into the bathroom.”
He walks into the kitchen, and when he joins me in the bathroom, he’s holding a wand lighter. He holds his hand out. “Paper?”
I bite my lip and grip the paper.
He cocks his head, then kisses my forehead. “Baby, c’mon. You really think I’d read it?”
Right. This is Jarel.
I hand him the paper, and he unfolds it twice.
He holds it in his left hand, and it dangles below his sling. He ignites the lighter and holds it under the corner of the paper.
The paper catches, and the flame travels quickly. He drops it into the trash can, and we both stare at it as it disappears from this world.
When the flame extinguishes, he simply says, “There. It’s done.”
“I just made you an accomplice.”
He shakes his head. “I burned it. Technically, you’re my accomplice.”
“Fuck.”
“It’ll be fine, Val.”
“And if the police find out?”
“They won’t.”
“If they do?”
“We’ll deal with it.” He wraps his arm around me and leads me back to the bedroom. “It’s done. Try to forget it.”
Without having to think about those receipts, without having to feel the paper against my skin, and without having to consider the possibility of going to prison, I’m finally able to focus on what actually happened today.
And I fucking lose it.
I collapse onto the bed, and the sobs ripple through me until they emerge as a scream. I bury my head in a pillow, and I’m brutally reminded of standing on the side of the road screaming into the abyss.
The trembling returns in full force, and I grip the sheets to hide my shaking hands.
“Don’t fight it,” Jarel says, lying next to me. “You need to feel this.”
I roll onto my back, pull my knees to my chest, and rock like a tipped-over turtle. I push a pillow against my face and scream three more times.
And pray that my cries are muffled enough that the neighbors don’t call the cops.
When I look at Jarel, he places his hand on my forehead. My eyes fall on his sling, and a tortured cry forces its way out of my chest.
“Why did you do that, Jarel?” I shriek. “Why did you make yourself a target?”
“You know why. I thought he might kill you, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
I rock again and scream into the pillow. “You should’ve let him.”
“No fucking way.”
“Goddamn it, Jarel!”
“That’s the guilt talking,” he says. “You’re not mad at me. You’re feeling guilty that I protected you.”
My eyes hurt, and I know they’re swelling. “You got shot!” I roll over and grab a fistful of his shirt. “You could’ve died!”
He nods. “Maybe so, but I will always do what I have to do to keep you safe. Always.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper.
“You don’t need to feel guilty,” he says evenly. “It was my choice, and I’d do it again.”
“I don’t want you to die!”
“I’m not going to die. We’re going to grow old together, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
I release his shirt and kiss him, but as soon as our lips touch, a terrible ringing fills my ears, and vertigo clutches me.
“I can’t,” I say, pulling away. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to,” he says gently.
“No, this,” I say, gesturing at the space between us. “I can’t do this… with you.”
My trembling legs step over him, and I nearly fall as I step off the bed. “I have to go.”