Page 33 of Songs for Libby

Jonas grimaced. “Just by being stupid.”

“So, not a daring rescue?”

There was one stunned second of silence and then he burst out laughing. “Is that what you were hoping for?”

“It crossed my mind,” I admitted.

“Oh, I wish. No, I was on leave and my brothers had set up their own Ninja Warrior course in my parents’ backyard.”

“That’s a big backyard.”

He shrugged. “They live on a ranch, actually.”

“Ah. So how did you do on the course?”

“It was great until my foot got caught on a shady piece of equipment.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to extend your leave because you got hurt?”

“It led you to your passion though, right?” Looking on the bright side.

He smirked at me. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What did you call the energy highways?”

“Meridians.”

“Tell me how those work.”

He spent the next hour trying to explain the basics of energy medicine and acupuncture. Honestly, it was pretty fascinating even though I came into it with a healthy dose of skepticism.

When I yawned the fourth time, he decided it was time to take me home, and I couldn’t protest too much since I was beat.

♪♫♪

I went to bed but was awoken rudely by my phone going off at one thirty in the morning. It was Randy.

“Please tell me he’s not going to the hospital.”

“No hospital this time.”

I was relieved and then angry. “Why do you let him go to these bars, Randy?” I stumbled out of bed and started looking for pants.

“Because it would be illegal to physically restrain him. Because I was at home myself when his security guy called me. I don’t know. Take your pick.” He didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he should have.

“How do you put up with it?” I asked, putting the phone on speaker and tossing it on my bed so that I could change out of my comfy pajamas.

His snort came over the line loud and clear. “I get paid to do this. The question is, how do you put up with it?”

I ignored the question, knowing that dwelling on it would just make things worse. “You know it will take me at least an hour to get there.”

“Actually, he’s in Newburgh. That’s why I called you. I’ll send you a pin.” He hung up.

Well. At least I wouldn’t spend half the night driving to and from New York City. It wasn’t until I was in my car that I remembered. Sean had said Randy wasn’t supposed to call me anymore. He’d said he was going to try to not get drunk, or whatever plan B was.

Yet, here I was, off to fetch Sean with my hair in two big buns at the side of my head and eyebrows way more prominent than I usually drew them in an attempt to be incognito. Because my life was ridiculous and I would really love to keep myself (or at least my name) out of the tabloids.