“No, sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Thanks for letting me come in.” There’s no judgment in his tone. Just a quiet acceptance of the fact I’ve kept him waiting out in the hallway like a servant for days. “I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you.”
He’s lying. You idiot.
I’m tempted to turn the lights up so I can see him better, but if I do, he’ll see the bruises on my face and neck. I look away as shame heats my cheeks. He knows what those men did to me.
Jason seems perfectly relaxed, which is the opposite of Sean, who used to fidget constantly. Probably because he was frustrated with me all the time. Or bored.
Or disgusted. That’s probably why he sold you to his drug dealer. Because you disgusted him.
“Shut up,” I say, immediately regretting it. Usually I don’t reply aloud to the monster that inhabits my head, but right now my reserves are low, and she’s getting to me more easily than usual.
The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I watch as my brother drifts over to the sofa to sit with Tyler. They both look haggard. I don’t think they’ve had a good night’s sleep since I’ve been here. The only time they leave me is when my parents are with me.
They think you’re going to kill yourself.
Shut up.
You should do it. It would make everyone’s life so much easier.
I said, shut up!
Jason comes around to the side of my bed and nods to the empty chair. “Mind if I sit?”
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
After he takes a seat, he nods toward Tyler and Ian. Lowering his voice, he says, “Those two look beat. How ’bout we let them go home and get some sleep? I’ll stay with you tonight.”
He said we so easily, as if it was second nature. As if we are a team. He’s right, though. They’re exhausted, and it’s because of me.
It’s your fault. Isn’t everything?
I want desperately to tell him no, but that would be selfish. After everything Ian and Tyler have done for me, I owe them. “Okay.”
Jason nods. “You heard her, guys,” he says to my brother and his boyfriend. “Take off. Go get some sleep. We’ll be fine.”
Ian and Tyler study me closely, probably watching to see how I handle the idea of Jason staying with me instead of them. After everything they’ve been through, they’re still worried about me. “Yeah, guys. Go on home. I’ll be fine.”
Ian gets up and approaches my bed. “Are you sure, sis?”
I sigh. No, not really. But what choice do I have? “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Tyler joins Ian at the side of my bed. “We’re just a phone call away.” His deep voice is rough from exhaustion. “No matter the time, call if you want us, okay?”
“I will.” I caught that he said if I wanted them, and not just if I needed them. There’s a difference. Ian’s always been here for me, since we were little kids. Now Tyler is too. I didn’t expect that when they first got together. I was afraid Tyler would pull Ian away from me, but he hasn’t. It’s been quite the opposite. I didn’t lose a brother; I gained one. “Thanks, guys.” I paste a smile on my face as I try to hide the panic I feel at the thought of them leaving me here with a practical stranger.
Ian doesn’t look convinced that I’m okay with them leaving. He leans in to kiss my cheek. “We mean it. Call and we’ll come running.”
“Thanks.”
Jason walks them to the door, and the three of them stand out in the hallway to have a quiet conversation.
They’re talking about you.
Yeah, I know that.
Jason probably wants to quit.
No, he doesn’t.
At least I hope he doesn’t want to quit. The only way my family will get any kind of a break from babysitting me is if I have a new bodyguard.
A few minutes later, Jason comes back into the room and closes the door before returning to sit by my bed. “Do you feel like talking for a bit?”
I shrug. “What about?” My stomach clenches tightly, souring as I contemplate being forced to reveal my darkest secrets to him.
He returns my shrug, perfectly at ease. He’s so laid back. “I don’t know. Whatever you want to talk about. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so I think it’d be a good idea for us to get to know each other better. I’ll go first.” He pauses a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “I like classic rock and sci-fi movies. My favorite food is steak, but pizza is a close second. My favorite flavor of ice cream is chocolate. I drive a black Dodge Challenger. What about you?”
“A Dodge Challenger? That’s very old school. You like muscle cars.”
He grins. “Guilty. Now it’s your turn.”
I’m swamped with relief. He’s not asking for anything hard. “Um, my tastes in music are pretty eclectic, but I have a soft spot for singer/songwriters from the seventies, like Carole King and James Taylor. I guess that kind of makes me old school, too. My favorite food is Mexican—I think Taco Tuesday should be a national holiday—but I’m with you on pizza. My favorite ice cream flavor is Neapolitan, but I have to be careful with ice cream. It sends my blood sugar levels through the roof. I’m a type 1 diabetic—a T1D—but you probably already know that.”
He nods. “I do. But that’s cheating.”
“What is?”
“Picking Neapolitan as your favorite flavor. That’s not just one flavor—technically it’s three. You’re getting chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry all in one. I call cheating.”
I try not to smile. “Okay, then. Strawberry. But it has to be real strawberry, not fake.”
“That’s better. I like sci-fi and paranormal shows, like The Twilight Zone or Supernatural.”
“See? You’re old school. You probably prefer the original Star Wars movies over the newer ones.”
He nods. “Yep. Guilty. What about you?”
“I like paranormal shows too, and superheroes. And medical shows, like Grey’s Anatomy. My favorite TV series of all time is probably Stranger Things. I could relate to Eleven—being different, feeling out of place, like she didn’t belong.”
He nods. “Good one. I could have said Stranger Things, too”
He’s so easy to talk to, not at all what I expected. Sean was always trying to show off, to impress me, or make me feel stupid. Jason’s pretty chill, and I don’t feel like he’s judging me.
“Do you want to tell me about your insulin pump and glucose monitor?” he asks.
“I have an Omnipod.” I lay my hand on my torso, to the right of my belly button, where my insulin pump is currently located. Then I point to the left side of my belly. “The Dexcom monitor is here.”
He frowns. “I know your kidnappers removed your pod and glucose monitor.” His voice is quiet, gentle. “I’m so sorry, Layla.”
I shrug. “They probably didn’t even know what the devices were for.”
“And they didn’t give you any food or water?”
I shake my head. “They forced me to drink alcohol, and they shot me up with drugs. Mostly sedatives, I think. To shut me up.”