Page 62 of Mr. Brightside
“Maybe you should have enough respect for me that I don’t need totrackyou,” I bite back.
He’s around the bar two seconds later.
“Baby,” he croons, trying to pry my arm off the counter and pull me into a hug. I let him—reluctantly—but even with his arms wrapped around me, I don’t return his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he starts. At least he knows he fucked up.
I peer up at him—he’s a few inches taller than me—and wait for him to go on.
“When I got to The Oak, it was worse than I thought. The kid was ranting and raving, wasted and probably high. Dem had his keys, but he wouldn’t give up his phone or give them any information on who to call to pick him up. Wecouldhave called the police—but when I looked at his ID, I realized it was a fake.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Who…”
“Cole,” he replies before I ask the question. “If someone opens a tab, we hold their credit card and ID, just to make closing out easier at the end of the night. Cole didn’t know it was a fake, which happens. I get that. But honestly, it was a really bad fake. Dem knew right away when he saw it, hence why he called me.”
Jake shakes his head before continuing. “It’s not even about the fine against The Oak—I just hated the idea of calling the cops and the kid getting arrested. He was having a bad night.”
“Clearly,” I interject.
My sarcasm is met with an unappreciative glare.
“Here’s the thing you have to understand. Iwasthat kid. He obviously had some demons to deal with. He wasn’t there with anyone, so he wasn’t doing it for attention. I didn’t get his story, but pain recognizes pain. I couldn’t stand the thought of the cops dragging him back home and telling his parents what he did.”
“So what did you do?” I snake my arms around my husband’s waist and let him hold me a little tighter. He releases a breath and drops his shoulders a couple of inches now that I’m letting him in.
“The kid pushed over an entire stack of clean glasses and broke about a dozen of them. I convinced him to come with me, buckled him in and put the Jeep’s child lock on. Then I drove him home and helped him sneak back into his house.”
He shrugs like there aren’t a dozen things wrong with that situation. The hooligan breaks the law, puts The Oak’s liquor license at risk, and destroys his property, and Jake’s response is to help him get away with it?
“Once that was handled, I circled back to The Oak. The guys were still cleaning up glass. When they finished, I offered to make them breakfast, so we locked up and went over to Clinton’s.”
Understanding settles in. At least now I know why no one answered when I called.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” he insists, placing one finger under my chin to lift my head, forcing me to meet his gaze. I don’t doubt his story. Or that he’s sorry. But my anxiety wasn’t the only problem tonight.
“You have to treat me like a partner, Jake. You told me you’d be right back. It’s okay that everything took longer than expected. But you should have texted me to give me an update.”
“I thought you were asleep! And I didn’t do anything wrong!”
He stiffens in my arms, clearly on the defense. I inhale through my nose and try to steady myself. I know he’s got to be exhausted, too. But this whole scenario could have been avoided with better communication.
“Imagine if you woke up and I was gone. I wasn’t answering your texts. I didn’t pick up when you called.”
His jaw ticks as he stares down at me through hooded eyes.
“I’d be pissed. And worried. But mostly pissed.”
I nod slowly. “I’m responsible for my reactions and emotions, which, I’ll admit, got the better of me tonight. But being in a relationship means that when you have the ability to meet the other person’s needs, you meet them. I won’t play the role of the nag. It’s on you to communicate with me.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, much more fervently this time. “I wasn’t thinking about anything but taking care of business. I should have kept you updated. It won’t happen again.”
Fair enough. I’m not interested in harping on him or holding grudges. I yawn and rest my cheek on his chest.
“You tired, baby?”
I nod against him, letting the weight of exhaustion consume me now that I know he’s safe.
“Want me to tuck you in?” he asks as one hand massages the base of my scalp while the other slinks down and presses into my low back. The way he says it makes it sound like we’re about to do a lot more than sleep.