Page 12 of Up In Smoke

“W-what?” I splutter with a hollow laugh. “You can’t be serious. I’m fine, dude. I don’t care if my brother sent you here. He needs to stop meddling in my life!”

Even as I’m speaking the words, I don’t mean them. But I’m panicking. Go? Go where? With Rico Flores? As if I haven’t humiliated myself enough in front of him already.

“You’re not fine, Jay,” Rico says, and I kind of hate him for respecting the stupid name I told my colleagues to call me years ago. Like I could erase Jesse Silverman if I reduced him to just one syllable. “I know you don’t want to go to the hospital, but I’m a trained EMT. If you need a note to call in sick at work?—”

I cut him off with a nasty, hollow laugh. “I got fired last night, so don’t worry about that.”

It takes me about half a second to realize my mistake. I could have told him that I have to work so I can’t be going anywhere with him and that his whole plan is dumb and invasive and quite frankly alarmingly controlling.

But now he knows I have nothing keeping me here.

“Are your injuries anything to do with you losing your job?” The way he asks isn’t just kind. It’s sad. Like he’s not angry I got myself in this situation, just disappointed.

It’s more than I ever got from my own parents, I suppose. But I loathe it all the same.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” I snap.

“Jay…I wanted to fix you something to eat, so I looked through your kitchen,” he says delicately. It’s still a blow, though, and I physically wince. He doesn’t need to tell me he probably found more empty pill bottles and takeout cartons than anything else.

Despite giving it my all to stop it from happening, tears start silently falling down my face again. I turn away from him, but I’m still in that petri dish. I’m a butterfly, pinned, as he looks at me under a microscope.

I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m alone. I’m so fucking done.

And here’s a capable, kind man, offering me a lifeline.

The seconds tick by. “Where…where do you live?” I ask tentatively. I’m not committing to anything before I have all the facts.

He doesn’t gloat or look victorious or anything. His eyes just get a little bit softer and the corner of his mouth twitches. “A small town called Redwood Bay. It’s kind of halfway between here and San Diego, about an hour’s drive away.”

I nod, not sure what to think. Small towns make me want to crawl out of my skin. But it’s not Switzerland. It’s not even another state. The panic that’s still lurking at the edge of my mind doesn’t overwhelm me. I can still breathe.

“With your husband?” I hedge.

He looks confused for a second before smoothing out his features. “No husband. It’s just me. You’d have all the privacy you need.”

Hmm. Just because he isn’t married doesn’t mean he hasn’t got a serious boyfriend. Anyway, why the hell am I focusing on that? His relationship status is completely irrelevant. He’s not asking me to come with him for romantic reasons.

I know why I’m fixating on that. It’s easier that admitting I’m actually considering this crazy plan.

“All I’m suggesting,” Rico says gently after a few moments of silence, “is that you come stay at my place for a little while.”

“How long?” I ask, feeling the panic reaching its fingers out.

Rico shrugs. “Until you’re back on your feet.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him it’s fucking rude to assume I’m not on my feet right now, but that would just be stupid. It’s obvious that I’m on a ledge here. But the shame won’t let me take the easy way out that easily.

“I can’t…” I huff and close my eyes, the words spilling out as fast as possible. “I can’t offer you rent or even grocery money until I get another job.”

“Jay?”

I flinch and my eyes fly open, realizing he’s resting his hand on my knee. I can’t remember the last time someone touched me when it wasn’t a grope or the kicking those assholes gave me a few hours ago. It was probably when Adam left several months ago. He hugged me right here in this apartment before heading downstairs to his family on their way to the airport.

For several seconds, we simply stare at each other.

“Yes, Rico?” I say eventually.

“Don’t worry about money for the moment,” he says with conviction. “You need time to heal. Let me do this for you. For Adam. You’re like family to me.”