Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ALEX’S MOTORCYCLE WAS in his mother’s driveway.

A long day on her best behavior at the library had left Sophie feeling too exhausted to care about anything, or so she’d thought, but at the sight of that bike, she slowed her car and stared.

He was still in Jackson.

She saw his shadow move past the front windows and put her foot to the gas to scoot by before he saw her. She’d told him to fuck off. That was a fairly definitive declaration. She couldn’t sit outside his house and moon over him now.

But she felt guilty as she pulled into her carport. She’d judged him and thrown his flaws at him like weapons. She’d tried to hurt him for hurting her. But she was just as screwed up as he was. Just as damaged by everything they’d lived through. Maybe more so, because as she’d made her way through her day, she’d realized that she’d spent her whole life making up for something her mother hadn’t even done. Worse, she’d known that for a year now. That her mother hadn’t walked out, she hadn’t abandoned anyone, she’d just died.

So what was Sophie trying to prove?

Alex’s experiences had been real, not imaginary. He hadn’t woven his fears out of thin air, they’d been drummed into him by his own mother.

Sophie could talk to him about it. She could apologize for her anger. But what would be the point? There was no reason to try to improve their relationship when he’d leave tomorrow or the next day and she’d never see him again.

She dropped her purse on a chair and kicked off her heels and tried to pretend the idea didn’t make her want to cry. She felt so close to him, so connected, but there was so much she didn’t know about him and never would. His favorite movies, his favorite foods, what he was like to come home to after a long day. She just wanted a few of those things with him. Moments that would make him more real when he was gone.

Maybe she would call him when she made it to California. Because she would make it. Soon.

A soft knock broke through her thoughts. She swung around and stared at the door. It could be him. But it wasn’t. He’d never knocked like that before. He didn’t know how to be tentative. She told herself to stop hoping and went to open the door.

“Hi,” Alex said. He held the gray kitten carefully to his chest.

She swallowed and didn’t speak. He looked tired, but the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the stubble that covered his jaw only made him look sexier. When she didn’t say hello, he wrapped his fingers around the kitten’s paw and waved it. “Pastel says hello, too.”

Jesus. Was he trying to kill her?

“Please don’t ask me to steal your mom’s cat again.” She had to fold her arms to keep from reaching for Pastel when she meowed plaintively.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “that was a mistake, but I’m hoping you can take Pastel for a few more days.”

She shook her head.

“You were right, Sophie. There was something wrong. My mom will be in the hospital for a while.”

Sophie gasped and took the kitten from him, then backed quickly away so Alex could come inside. “What happened?”

“She collapsed. We took her to the hospital yesterday. Apparently she hasn’t been taking care of herself. She hasn’t been eating.”

“Oh, no!”

“She’s got a vitamin B deficiency, which can cause psychological problems. Have you ever heard of that?”

She shook her head.

“Well, you were right. She really didn’t know who you were that day you found her here. And her behavior for the past few weeks... That was probably because of the vitamin issue, too.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “She doesn’t really hate me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t get attached to that idea.”

“Ha.” She shook her head and snuggled the kitten as it curled against her chest and began to purr. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m tired. I spent the night at the hospital with her, and then spent part of the day trying to find the things she wanted me to bring to her hospital room. But the kitten... Do you think you could watch her for a little while longer?”

Sophie tucked her face into the warm fur. “I guess so,” she said, resisting the impulse to cry, “You’ll never take her from me!”