Page 104 of One Good Crash
"Because you've done too much already." Again, I looked toward the door. "And besides, I'm sure I'll get my stuff eventually."
"Any chance you'll change your mind?"
I shook my head. I hadn't been lying. As wonderful as his offer was, that wasn't me. That was my mom, and I refused to follow in her dangerous footsteps.
"Alright," Jax said. "Then lemme ask you…you wanna wait in the van? Or come with me?"
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Where are you going?"
He pointed to my mom's door. "Into the apartment."
"But it's locked."
"Yeah, but not for long."
Chapter 44
Twenty minutes later, we were already in and out.
I'd even changed my shirt, swapping out the borrowed one for a shirt of my own. Was it silly? Probably. But I didn't care. For the first time in weeks, I was wearing my own clothes, and I had the rest of my things within easy reach.
Best of all, I had Jax in the driver's seat, pulling away from the curb all casual-like, as if wehadn'tjust done the unthinkable, for me, anyway.
During the last twenty minutes, I'd been incredibly tense, looking over my shoulder non-stop as Jax and I worked to gather up my things.
It went a lot faster than I might've expected, mostly because Jax had stocked the van with a nice supply of moving boxes, along with rolls of packing tape, too.
I had to give him credit. He'd thought of everything.
In hindsight, even his choice of vehicles had been pure perfection. No one had given us a second glance, even as we made several trips back and forth while loading up the stuff.
And now that we were finished, I almost felt like laughing. "I can't believe we broke in."
"We didn't break in." He smiled as he pulled into traffic. "You had a key, remember?"
"Well, yeah. But I didn't have it on me."
"But you do now, right?"
Yes. I did.But only because Jax had insisted. If I'd been alone, I probably would've left the key where I'd originally left it – atop the nightstand in my mom's spare bedroom.
I couldn't even call itmybedroom, considering that I'd slept there for barely a week.
In answer to Jax's question, I raised the key out in front of me and twisted the keyring around my finger. "Yeah, I've got it, but I doubt I'll be needing it. I mean, it's not like I'll ever be living there again."
"Good." His voice hardened. "And if you change your mind, let me know."
"Why?"
"So I can talk you out of it."
Funny, he didn't look like much "talking" would be involved. Mostly, he looked like he'd tie me to a chair if I ever suggested such a thing – not that I would after this latest fiasco.
Still, I had to ask, "So then why would I need a key?"
At the next stoplight, he turned and gave me a serious look. "The key's how you got in."
Serious or not, I couldn’t help but tease, "Oh really? So youdidn'tpick the lock?"
