Page 72 of Punchline
I gave him the necessary details, and we ended the call.
Not twenty minutes later, he was striding into the room, his eyes full of intense concern. “Hey. How are?—”
“Dude, how fast did you drive?” I asked.
“Fast enough,” he said dismissively. “How is your arm?”
I glanced down at the cast and shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t even know why I’m still here.”
“Because it’s a busy emergency room. Trust me, you don’t want to be their top priority.”
I shuddered. He had a point. “Any word on Jake?”
Marek glanced at his phone, then shook his head. “Not yet. Carson said it’ll probably take two or three days to bail him out, and?—”
“What?” I sat up so fast I almost tumbled off the gurney. “They’re just going to keep him until?—”
“He still has to have a bail hearing,” Marek said gently. “It’s—the whole process is longer than TV makes it out to be.”
I groaned and covered my face with my good hand. “Jesus Christ. So he’s just… They’re just going to… ” I let my handfall to the gurney and met my teammate’s eyes. “He just has to sit there in jail until they unfuck things?”
Grimacing, Marek nodded. “Unfortunately.”
Ugh. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or be sick. Maybe both. Violently. At the same time. Just the thought of Jake sitting in a shitty cell fordays—what the fuck?
“He didn’t evendoanything.” I paused. “I mean, okay, he beat the shit out of the guy who grabbed me, but like, it wasn’t out of nowhere, you know?”
Marek scowled. “The cops don’t give a shit why. Assault and battery is assault and battery.”
“Jesus Christ.” My stomach curdled with horror and guilt. “It’s because of me. He was defending me, and then?—”
“Berns.” Marek put his hands on my shoulders and looked straight into my eyes. “Don’t do that to yourself. Just don’t.”
“But he wouldn’t have touched the guy if?—”
“If the guy hadn’t been a jackass who touched you.” Then his expression softened, as did his grip on my shoulders. “And I get it, okay? I really do.” He gestured at my cast, then let me go and straightened. “If I hadn’t told you to go after Vincent… ”
“Someone had to do it,” I said quietly. Scowling down at the cast, I muttered, “Not your fault I hit him just right to break my stupid hand.”
“No, but I encouraged you to fight him in the first place. You don’t think that keeps me awake at night?”
I chewed my lip. “So you’re saying I can beat myself up over it.”
Marek sighed. “I’m saying I know there’s no talking you out of beating yourself up over it. But it’s really not your fault.”
I just grunted unhappily. Whether it was my fault or not, it sure fucking felt like it. Then another thought darkened my mood even more. “Didn’t he pull away from Carson after what happened in Abu Dhabi? Like, he blamed himself so much, he couldn’t even face him anymore?”
Marek nodded, sighing as he eased himself into one of the hospital room’s chairs. “From what Carson has told me, Jake is kind of quick to withdraw if something feels off.” He paused, then admitted, “When Carson told him about me, he backed off pretty hard, too.”
I tilted my head. “What? Why? Was he into Carson or something?”
“No, but he hadn’t figured himself out yet. And I guess realizing his friend was into men made him… ” Marek gestured like something flying away. “Carson told me once that for a fighter, Jake has a bit of an overactive flight instinct.”
My stomach knotted tighter. “Oh. Shit.” I shifted on the gurney. “What if… What if this whole thing makes him pull away from me?”
“Why would it?”
“Because he was defending me and wound up in jail for his trouble? I mean, what if he’s ashamed of that or he’s mad at me for—I don’t know, being the reason he got arrested? He pulled back from Carson even though Carson didn’t do anything, you know? So why wouldn’t he do the same now?”
