"Um…" My brain won't work at all. He's right, I'm way too shaken up. I can't even function.
"Who do you drop off first?"
"Talya." The answer comes as a relief. "Campbell and Third."
He gives a nod and puts on his blinker, driving my bashed up car as if nothing happened.
"I-isn't this illegal? Leaving the scene of an accident?"
A smile tugs at his lips. "The other party is in the car with you."
"But don't we have to notify the cops? How will I file the insurance report? I wasn't drinking or anything. Were you afraid I'd get in trouble?" I know I'm babbling. I can't stop myself.
None of this makes any sense.
"Are you hurt?" he asks suddenly, glancing over at me. His forehead is creased, green eyes flash with alarm.
"Um." I rub the back of my neck, checking for whiplash.
"Any of you?" he barks, looking in the rearview mirror.
"No. I'm okay," Talya slurs.
"Me too," Remy says.
"Angelina?" He looks back at me. "Talk to me, baby."
"Jared, you're hurt," I manage to say.
He gives a dismissive shake of his head. "I'll be fine by morning. Just a few bumps and scrapes. But tell me you're okay, or I'm going to lose my shit here."
"I'm fine."
Jared's shoulders relax, but the crease remains between his brows.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, I think so. Just shaken up."
"Of course you are." He drops a hand on my knee like he's offering me comfort. This is more like the Jared I know. Neanderthal Jared is fading away.
"I'm sorry I hit you," I blurt, the tears that have been threatening since the impact falling now.
"Aw, no. It was my fault, baby. I didn't expect anyone to be coming down that alley at this time of night, but I should've looked first."
"Were you drinking?" I don't want to sound like a bitch, but I'm still trying to figure out why he wouldn't let me call for help.
"No, baby. I'm fine. That's why I'm driving." He moves his hand to my nape and squeezes, gently kneading my muscles.
We reach Third Avenue and I point out Talya's house. He pulls over and she climbs out. "Are you guys sure you're okay?" She leans back in the open door. Her breath reeks of alcohol.
"Yeah, yeah, we're fine," I say. "Goodnight."
"G'night." She gives a sloppy wave and slams the door shut.
Jared waits until she's safely in her house before he starts driving again. I direct him to Remy's house and then to my little casita. Jared stops the car there and gets out.
Is he coming in?
I should definitely ask him to stay, in case he goes into a coma or something during the night. But when he walks around to meet me, he's no longer limping. On closer inspection, I see the cut on his head isn't bleeding anymore, either. In fact, it no longer looks fresh. It has the appearance of skin that's already been stitched closed for a week. It must be a trick of the light.
"Come here." Jared wraps me in a bear hug.
I didn't know how badly I needed it until I'm in his strong arms, my face pressed against his massive chest.
A few more tears leak out as he burrows his fingers in my hair and massages my scalp. The shock and aftershock quickly morph into something different. Something dangerous and needy.
I pull away, remembering how awkward our parting had been at Eclipse. My hands flutter. "Um, do you want to come in? I mean, you should stay the night. Just to be sure you're all right. Not because I want you to spend the night-" Ugh. I'm making a mess of things.
Jared, as usual, takes the lead, taking my elbow and walking toward my door. "I'll stay on your couch, if you have one. To make sure you're all right."
To make sure I'm all right.
This guy is seriously out of touch with his own body.
Except he looks fine. He's not clutching his ribs anymore. His pupils are the same size. Where did the limp go?
What in the hell just happened?
We stop on the porch and he examines my keyring, correctly guessing which key opens my door. Inside, he looks around my tiny place and sets the ring on the stand in the entry.
"I'll just clean up." He peels his bloodied shirt off and heads to my bathroom.
My jaw might have dropped a bit seeing his bare shoulders and back. Tattoos curl around giant, telephone pole size arms. The muscles in his back would put the Hulk to shame.
Yum.
But no.
I'm not going to fool around with Jared anymore because:
A) He's here to recuperate from the accident, and
B) He's a player. Except
C) I'm not sure I care.
I trail him to the bathroom, telling myself it's because I need to make sure he's all right. Check out his injuries for myself.
It's not because I want to gawk at his very fine chiseled body.
He splashes water over his face, washing off the blood and when he straightens, I gasp.
The cut is almost completely gone.
My brain tries to make it work, to fit it into a scenario that makes sense, but I can't. I saw that cut gushing blood, not more than thirty minutes ago.
He catches me looking and slaps his hand over his forehead, hiding the cut, which only makes this weirder. Like Twilight Zone crazy.
I stumble back, my breath caught in my throat. "Who… what… are you?"