He didn’t even have a car. No way to get home. Except that wasn’t true, because as Ari stood rooted to the spot, a Lyft pulled up to the curb and the driver rolled down the window.
Jax got in, and the car drove away.
The sky, which had been threatening the kind of nasty weather London winters were famous for, darkened another half a degree. By the time Ari closed the door to his parents’ house behind him, the front step was dusted in white.
Chapter Eighteen
JAX WASthree-quarters of the way back to his place before he realized his house keys were still on Ari’s counter, next to his bike helmet. Just one more cherry on the shit sundae of his life.
Well, fine. Hobbes was probably home, so the door would be unlocked. He wouldn’t be stuck outside. Jax had a spare key to his bike in his room somewhere, and an extra helmet. If the snow coming down was any indication, his days of riding the motorcycle were done for the season anyway.
It would be fine.
“Thanks,” he told his driver as she pulled up. His voice was rough as he opened the door and got out. “Have a good one.”
It was bound to be a better day than Jax’s, anyway.
There was already a puddle of ice forming at the corner of the garage, where the driveway wasn’t graded properly—as he hunched against the cold, his foot slid forward several inches and he pulled a muscle, but he caught himself on the brick before he could fall.
With a sinking feeling as he reached the doorstep, he realized the house was dark—no lights on upstairs except the one over the stove, which they left on in case the Captain woke them up with a diabetic episode in the middle of the night.
Could this day get any worse?
Of course, Jax should have fucking known how this would go. He should have canceled on dinner when he realized at the post office that he hadn’t taken his pill. He knew he would be extra irritable, extra sensitive. He knew that was a bad combination to take with you to dinner at your boyfriend’s parents’ house when you were already expecting a goatscrew.
But there was no way he could have anticipated the level of clusterfuckery. And if he’d thought Ari was going to leave Jax to fend off the wolves on his own—
He would have broken things off weeks ago.
Without much hope, Jax tried the door. Locked. But maybe Hobbes had just gone to bed early. He rang the doorbell and shoved his hands under his armpits. Maybe Hobbes would answer, he thought, closing his eyes. Maybe Hobbes was home, and Hobbes would let him in and not ask any questions and make him hot chocolate with a medicinal slug of bourbon in it. Hobbes would sit him down in front of the TV and put on a comfort movie likeStar WarsorThe Fifth Element, and they’d make popcorn and absolutely not talk about it. And if Jax was extra pathetic, Hobbes would hug him, and it would be even better than before, because it couldn’t be bittersweet if Jax wasn’t in love with him anymore.
At least one good thing had come of this catastrophe.
But Hobbes didn’t answer.
“Fuck,” Jax said under his breath. Out of sheer frustration he rang the bell again, again, again, like an obnoxious kid playing nicky nicky nine door. Then he leaned his head against the door.
Goddammit.
A light went on inside, and after a moment, the bolt on the door was flicked and Jax had just enough time to scramble his weight off the door before it was flung open.
By a sleepy-looking half-dressed Naomi.
“Jax?”
“Naomi?” What was she doing here at… whatever the hell time it was? Without pants?
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“I know that, but aren’t you supposed to be out with Ari?”
Jax opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his teeth chattered.
“Jesus.” Naomi grabbed his sleeve and hauled him into the house.
“Sorry.” Jax couldn’t seem to stop shaking.