Chapter 22

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the morning sun filtering through my bedroom window. It hadn't been that way in over a week. The second thing? The sound of a basketball bouncing off concrete.

Confused, I roll to my side and look down at the floor where Jace had slept… if he'd slept at all.

The cushions are gone, blankets are too, and the pillow I'd attempted to assault him with is back on my bed. It's almost as if he wants it to look like he wasn't here at all.

Nice.

I must've always underestimated the power of a long, hot shower, because swear, standing under the stream with nothing but your thoughts to over-analyze can do wonders for your soul. Or, in my case, throw me a reality check with a side of embarrassment, because it made me realize maybe I was a little harsh on Jace last night and that I may have overreacted just a teeny, tiny bit. Especially considering he was only here to protect me.

Ten minutes later, I'm dressed, backpack on, coffee in one hand and juice in the other as I exit the house through the back door. Jace glances at me, sinks one more shot, then lets the ball bounce away.

"Coffee or juice?" I ask, lifting both drinks in my hands as I make my way toward him.

Glistening with sweat, he settles his hands on his hips and waits for me to stop in front of him before saying, "If you're asking which one I'd prefer thrown at me, then juice. Less permanent damage."

My grin is instant. "Look at you with your jokes!"

He almost smiles back, which is almost a victory.

"And no," I say, "I come in peace."

Looking between the two, he asks, "What kind of juice?"

"Fruit."

His nose scrunches in the cute way it does.

"What, Grumpy? You don't like fruit?"

"Grumpy?" he mumbles, taking the tumbler of juice from me. He has the tiniest of sips at first, then goes back for more. Once. Twice. And then he smiles. At me. This radiant, glorious smile that shows his teeth, and I instantly claim it as mine. I did that. "Goddamn," he says, sipping once more before using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow, revealing his toned abs.

"Your bruises are healing well," I mumble.

He freezes.

And I take the giant foot out of my mouth and drop my gaze. "Sorry."

Jace lowers his shirt, tugs it farther down than it needs to be.

Uncomfortable silence stretches between us, and I hate that I brought us here.

Thankfully, he finds a way to break the awkward tension. "This is really nice," he says, shaking the tumbler between us. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

I nod, find the courage to look up at him. He looks away the instant my eyes meet his. "You took the cardboard off my window?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He shrugs, moving to the back of his van. "Sunlight is a natural source of vitamin D."

I stare at his back, unamused, while he rifles through a gym bag, pulls out another shirt, sniffs it, then switches them out. When he turns around, his gaze returns to mine for all of a millisecond. "Why did you board up your windows in the first place?" he asks, sitting on the back of the van.

I sit down beside him, stare down at my feet. "Because you threatened to come over if you saw the light on."

"So you're still sleeping with a light on?"

What am I supposed to do? Lie about it? "I'm a teenage girl who just moved to a new town. And while small and quaint or whatever, it's still a town I know nothing about. And I'm alone most of the time, and sure, I considered looking up the crime rate around here, but I don't know if that would just scare me more, so… yeah, I sleep with a light on."

He's quiet for a long moment, as if taking in my diatribe word for word. Finally, he asks, "So you're scared in general? Not just about that Christian guy?"

A heavy sigh emits from my chest. It's not as if I'd forgotten about Christian. I was just hoping Jace had selective short-term memory loss or something. Well, him and everyone else who was there. "I wasn't," I admit. "Not until yesterday. And it's not as if I'm scared that he'll do anything to me. I know he won't. It's just… I'm trying to move on, and he's a part of my past I don't want to revisit." I pause a breath, lower my voice. "I don't need the constant reminder that I'm a horrible person."

Wishfully, and stupidly, I expect him to convince me I'm not, but he doesn't. He simply stands to full height and stretches out his back. "You ready to go?"

I shove down my disappointment, swallow it whole. "Jonah drives me to school."

"I texted him, told him I'd be taking you."

I stand, take what little pride I have with me. "Then I'm ready to go."