A soft smile plays on Jase’s lips as he wipes the single tear that falls from my lashes. “That’s not what I meant.”
His eyes shift over his shoulder, and I struggle to digest what I’m seeing.
The top design on his sleeve of tattoos is a stag, its antlers extending across the front and back of his shoulder. That much I had already seen. What obviously didn’t catch my eye the last time was the two-inch depiction of a penguin that looks to be lounging in a nook of the antler’s tine, like it’s a little kid hanging out on a tree branch. All of Jase’s tattoos are rendered in realism, so the fact that this particular artwork was done in a cartoon style only makes it stand out all the more.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” he warns, but it’s too late.
CHAPTER 38
FIND ME
PRESENT
The old digitalclock on the nightstand reads8:33 a.m. when I wake up to a streak of sunshine blazing right into my eyes from a gap between the curtain and window. Rolling over, I’m greeted with nothing more than a vacant mattress, and the more I blink my eyes, the more scratchy they become. Shit. I had fallen asleep with my contact lenses still in. Hugging the sheets over my exposed chest (which seems ridiculous since there isn’t any part of me now that Jase hasn’t seen), I reach down on the floor to grab the first available piece of clothing, which happens to be his shirt. The oversized fabric floods my petite frame as I shrug my arms and head through the garment, but it’s comfy as hell, a.k.a. something my eyeballs currently are not.
I fish through my gym bag beside the bed, pulling out some eye drops. The contacts finally rehydrate after a couple minutes, and I ease them out in favor of my glasses. Creeping across the warped floorboards, I make my way over to the closed bathroom door, expecting to hear the shower running. I knock, only to get no answer, and opening the door confirms that the place truly is empty. My heart involuntarily drops at the revelation, and an array of plaguing thoughts races through my head before I can insert any rationality.
All I can imagine is Jase waking up this morning and coming to terms with what we’d done. He banged Birdie and then bailed. Yep, that sounds about right, given my luck.
Sweeping the thoughts aside, I grab some fresh clothes and jump into the shower. The sappy romantic in me half expects to find Jase walking through the front door when I get out, having brought me coffee or something as a sweet gesture, like you see in the movies. But as I know all too well now, my life is no rom-com. It’s a cruel bitch, and that bitch continues to laugh in my face as I come out to the still-empty bedroom.
I fall back onto the mattress and regret it instantly. Jase’s clean yet musky scent engulfs my senses, and my heart quickens as remnants from last night pour through my mind’s eye.
I don’t want to panic and jump to the conclusion that he’s ditched me here, but after another forty minutes of pacing, I officially begin freaking out. I even turn my cell back on, not surprised by the number of messages pouring in, but none are from Jase.
I roll over and bury my face into the sheets, grateful the mattress absorbs my scream. Not until my fingers curl into the sheets do I feel it.
A piece of paper.
Imagining only the worst, I brace myself for impact as I open it. Sure, it seems ridiculous that someone would run out on their bed buddy come morning, given that this is theother person’splace, but secondhand experience has taught me better.
The morning after a dorm party, I awoke to find Daniel Lockhart in Maggie’s bed…without Mags. She’d apparently hooked up with him after a twosome between her and a bottle of tequila turned into a ménage à trois that included body shots and further questionable behavior. An awkward-as-hell conversation with this relative stranger ensued until Maggie thankfully called, informing me that Daniel was a “stage-5clinger.” She wouldn’t have been able to get him out of the dorm room without being forced into going out on a date with him, so she snuck out early in the a.m. to avoid the whole scenario, forcing me to play host until he finally gave up and left on his own. I’m definitely not a clinger, but what if I’m justthatbad in bed? Sure, we’d doneitseveral times last night, making that notion seem unlikely, but I could still be wrong…
I unfold the sheet of paper to see only two words.
“Take me.”
I turn it over, hoping to find more, but that’s it.
Take me?
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
I must have rumpled the bedsheets in my sleep more than I realized, because as I fish around the mattress for another clue, I find Jase’s car keys near his pillow.
And I’m officially a dumbass.
Grabbing my purse, I follow the instructions and take the keys down to the bar. Thankfully, I don’t have a hangover, but the abundance of light pouring in through the front windows leaves my retinas burning. It’s infinitely worse stepping out into the blazing summer sun, and it takes a solid minute for my eyes to adjust as I make my way across the parking lot to the old police car. Unlocking the driver’s door, I’m greeted with an envelope taped to the steering wheel.
“Take the tube to the helm at JFK and see a captain’s view of the crow’s nest,”reads the note inside.
Oooookay.
Clearly, it’s a riddle, but I don’t even know where to begin trying to crack it. Several modes of transportation come to mind, and none make sense in correlation with each other. TheundergroundTubein London,JFKairport in New York, and thehelmandcrow’s nestof a ship.
I don’t know if it’s “against the rules,” but I’m also running on only a few hours of sleep and no coffee, so I search on my phone for anything named JFK near me. Sure enough, there’s a John F. Kennedy Boulevard not too far from my family’s house on the north side of town.
Bingo!
