Page 200 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

Homecoming, I asked her, and she said yes, but are we still going? I mean, fuck?

Not sure why it takes me this long to realize what a fucking creeper I actually am right now, but Christ, what is happening to me? I’m Tommy fucking Lane; I don’t do stupid shit, I just say stupid shit.

Yeah, I tell myself. She wakes up, and you’re all fucking creeping at her window. Explain it just like that, you moron….

I decide to climb back down, and I stop and look at her again and reverse that decision. Fuck it, I’m already up here; may as well see if the window is locked.

It’s not, of course it’s not.

Do not do this, Thomas. Oh, hell no, I did not just Thomas myself… fuck, fuck, fuck.

I open the window as quietly as I can and climb inside and stand there. She doesn't move, but the wind picks up, so I close the window and stand there for a second.

I'm not leaving. Not yet. Not unless Mr. Ross… Jack comes in here with a shotgun.

Fuck it, I'm in this.

I sit on the floor at the end of her bed, and I tell myself I'll stay for a minute. Just until I know she's okay, or maybe long enough to know we’re okay.

Her breathing stays slow and even; the room is quiet. I look at the tapes again and recall how excited she was not just the first time, but every time I give her one.

My eyes drift to the dress, and I realize tomorrow. I glance at my watch; well, today, she's supposed to wear that for me.

I lean my head back against the wall and get pissed again. Pissed she won't answer me. Pissed at Lucas, but not really. Pissed at Sadi? Oh, fuck yes. I despise men who lay hands on a woman, but I may have fantasized about bitch slapping her more than once.

And yeah, I'm fucking terrified that whatever is happening tonight is going to spill over into us and it’s exhausting… mentally.

Eventually, my eyes get heavy, and I rest them, just for a minute, maybe two.

I open my eyes and slap my hands over my own damn mouth to stop myself from screaming when I see her sitting on the bench of her bay window, arms crossed, looking out toward the road. I realize something.

“Before you say it, yeah, I shouldn’t have just come in your window, like it was the front door.”

She turns and just stares at me, and I know I'm fucked.

Finally she says, “Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me, so you climbed a tree?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It is stupid.”

I run my hand through my hair. “Okay, yeah. Fair.”

She turns toward me, and I can see the tiredness in her face.

“I called you.”

“I know.”

“You didn't answer.”