As Dead as It Gets by Katie Alender Page B

on my cheek was really just a glorified scratch—I could say I’d petted an unfriendly cat or something.
    It wasn’t great, but it was manageable.
    Jared had given me a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants, a T-shirt, and a baggy sweatshirt. The idea of changing out of my wet jeans into warm, comfortable clothes for a little while was too delicious to pass up. After I was dressed, I balled up my own clothes and carried them back out to the living room.
    Jared was sitting on the arm of the sofa, staring into the yard. He jumped up when I came into the room. “I’ll take those,” he said, gesturing to the bundle under my arm. “If I put them in the dryer, you should be able to wear them home.”
    “I should probably shake them out,” I said. “They’re covered in dirt. I should have thought about that before I came into the house.”
    “I’ll take care of it.”
    “I can go outside and—”
    His brown eyes flashed with hurt. “Alexis, please .”
    So I handed my clothes over. He went past me to a door in the hallway, and his footsteps thumped down a flight of stairs. A minute later, I heard the whoosh and tumbling of the clothes dryer.
    He came back, closed the door behind him, and sat down on the chair next to the couch. I faced the yard. He faced the wall. We studiously avoided looking at each other, and for a long time, neither of us spoke.
    Finally I found my voice and said, “Thank you.”
    “No.”
    I looked up in surprise.
    Jared raked his fingers through his hair. “No. You don’t do that! You don’t show up here looking like you got jumped in an alley and refuse to tell me anything and then thank me. I don’t want your thanks.”
    I didn’t have any fight left in me. Besides, he was right. I drew in a breath.
    “Stop.” He held up a hand. “I don’t want an apology, either. I just want…”
    I knew what he wanted—the truth. But that wasn’t an option.
    “I just want to know you’re okay.”
    Oh.
    He stared at me, at all my bruises and cuts. “I’m trying so hard to understand what’s going on. Just tell me, please…are you okay? Are you really okay?”
    “Yes,” I said. And I was, in the way he meant.
    Beyond that, who could say?
    He sighed. The air settled around us.
    “I’ll leave if you want me to,” I said. It was more of a question.
    “You think I want you to leave? God , Alexis.” Jared shook his head and looked at me. “Just hang on for a minute, all right?”
    He disappeared, and I heard the sound of liquid pouring into a glass. Then drinking and the clatter of the glass being set on the counter.
    A second later, he came in, rubbing the back of his neck, and sat down. The room filled with silence again. We didn’t talk, because we had nothing to say. I laid my head on my arm and closed my eyes.
    I heard movement, and I felt Jared’s weight press on the sofa cushion next to mine.
    I leaned into him and felt his arms wrap around me. It was a friendly gesture, although I could feel the tension in his muscles.
    “Jared?” I said, looking up at him.
    “What?”
    I felt the weight of my unspoken apology like an overfilled water balloon. But he didn’t want to hear it, and I wasn’t in a position to impose. So instead I said, “What happened tonight…”
    How could I explain it?
    Suddenly, my whole life seemed like a never-ending succession of things I couldn’t explain.
    And in that moment, it hit me:
    Enough. Enough secrets. Enough of living this way.
    It was time to conquer my fear—and take care of Lydia for good.
    I stared up into his eyes. “I can’t tell you what it was, but it’s not going to happen again.”
    “Well…” He looked around helplessly. “Good, I guess. Because seeing you like this—I mean, I thought somebody had attacked you.”
    “No,” I said.
    “I’m serious, Alexis. I saw you standing there, and I wanted to kill whoever did this to you.” His whispery voice held the smoky scent of whatever he’d drunk in the kitchen. His eyes