Page 73 of One Good Crash


Font Size:

"But for how long?" I asked. "I mean, she's not gonna get arrested when she leaves, is she?"

"That depends."

My stomach clenched. "On what?"

"If she goes for another truck."

I gave a little shake of my head. "What?"

"The thing with thefirsttruck, it's handled." He paused. "No telling what'll happen if she goes for another."

Another truck?

Was that a joke? If so, it wasn't funny. "She's not gonna do it again," I told him. "She wouldn't have done it at all if I hadn't worried her for nothing."

His eyebrows lifted. "For nothing."

"Yes," I insisted. "For nothing."

He looked at me for a long silent moment, and I swear, I could tell exactly what he was thinking.

It was the same thing I was thinking. Last night, I'd been on the verge of sleeping outdoors because I had nowhere else to go. Maybe that was cause for alittleworry.

Under his steady gaze, I shifted in my seat and mumbled something about it all working out in the end.

It was a stupid thing to say, of course, because the only reason ithadworked out was because Jax had given me a place to stay.

Had I even thanked him? I thought so, but I couldn't be sure. "I guess I should thank you–"

"If you want to thank me," he said, "give me an answer."

I wasn't following. "About what?"

"The job."

Oh. Right. The job.

I wasn't naïve. Even when he'd first mentioned it, I'd seen that job for what it was. It was a pity job, something to keep me off the streets or wherever.

I didn't want anyone's pity. I summoned up a smile. "Look, that's really nice of you–"

"I'm not nice."

I felt my eyebrows furrow. "You are, too. I mean, look at all the favors you've done for me already."

When he made no reply, I began rattling them off. "You gave me a ride, invited me to your party, and even put me up in your guest room. If that's not nice, I don't know what is."

He gave me another long, penetrating gaze. This time, I had no idea what he was thinking. But as the silence stretched out between us, I would've given almost anything to know.

Finally, he said, "With you, it's different."

Nowthatsurprised me. "It is? Why?"

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

As an answer, this was hardly satisfying, but I didn't want to dwell on it, not now, with that crazy job offer hanging between us. "About the job," I said, "I can't take it."

He frowned. "Why not?"