"Is this your MO?" I ask as Jace drags me toward the door. "Bringing girls to your car, then driving them out to some obscure location where you then conduct a therapy session. It's strange, most people would include something more hard core like, I don't know, murder or rape. But you're content with your therapy sessions, and I guess that's cool too. I don't—"
"Clary," Jace says, cutting me off. "You're rambling."
"Sorry," I mutter. Jace pushes open the door and curses. I notice he's not wearing a jacket.
"Shit it's cold!" he says. Goosebumps break out across his skin. He picks up his pace and pulls me along, my short legs having difficulty keeping up with him.
"Jace," I say laughing. He turns to me, not breaking his stride.
"Race you," he says.
"You just want to get to the car."
"Yes I do," he breaks off in a run and I know there's no way I'll catch up. I walk leisurely towards the car and laugh as he throws open the door and jumps in. He backs out of the space and honks at me, the sound echoing through the garage. He pushes open the passenger door for me. "Can you pass me that jacket?" he asks, motioning to a dark leather one in the backseat. I grab it, briefly enjoying the soft feel of the leather beneath my fingers. I pass it to him and he quickly pulls it on, turns on the car, and hands me his cell phone.
"What's this for?" I ask. His heavy breathing echoes through the car.
"So you can call the hospital and say you're deathly ill and cannot come in and spread your disgusting germs all over the poor ER patients." I shoot him a look and dial the hospital number.
"Hello, Starke Memorial Hospital, how may I help you?" says a familiar voice. Jace pulls out of the garage.
"Ummm…hi. It's—it's Clarissa Fray. I'm calling because I'm going to be sick today—I mean I am sick and I'm not—" Jace sighs and takes the phone from my hands.
"Hi. Clary's not coming in today. She's terribly ill and can barely stand…of course…I'll let her know…thank you." He hangs up the phone and contorts his body, in order to wiggle it into his back pocket. I sit, impatiently jiggling my knee, as I wait for him to tell me whether or not they bought the excuse.
"Well, what did they say?" I ask after what feels like a ridiculously long wait.
"That they know you're not actually sick and want you to report to work immediately."
"But I don't have my scrubs! We have to go back! I can't—"
"Clary," Jace says, interrupting me. "They said it's fine. You have more than enough sick days to cover one missed shift." I turn my head and glare at him.
"Not. Funny," I say.
"I actually thought it was hilarious."
"Not. Funny. At. All."
"We'll call it payback for the nerd clothes," Jace says. I smile at the memory.
"Simon's going to want those back by the way."
"I think I may keep them for memories sake." I roll my eyes and glance out the window, curious as to where we're going.
"Are we leaving the city?" I ask him.
"Yep."
"Where are we going?"
"Someplace you'll like," he says, a smile on his face.
"What makes you think I'll like it?" I ask him.
"Because I know you."
"Hmmm…"
"Hmmm?"
"Hmm," I reiterate with confidence. He puts in a CD, the music covering the sound of tires on pavement. "What's this?"
"A mix CD." I close my eyes and settle into the melody of the first song, sucking in the haunting lyrics. We listen to the whole track, the New York City skyline giving way to a more rural setting. He pulls down a dirt road and I catch sight of the ocean.
"Where are we?"
"Home," he says. He turns a corner and all I can see is a huge house. Gigantic. He parks the car and I jump out. I crane my neck up, staring at the beautiful architecture and sheer size.
"You live here?" I ask.
"Obviously not," he says climbing out of the car. He leads me to the front door, unlocking it with a key on his chain, than pushes it open.
The house that looked beautiful and intimidating outside is dark and sad inside. It's clear that no one has lived in the house for years, dust coats every surface. I suck in a breath and find Jace's hand, wrapping my fingers around it. He leads me to the kitchen. One wall of the kitchen is all glass, with a beautiful view of the beach and ocean.
"Oh. My. God. Why do you live in some crappy apartment and not here?" I ask him, turning to face him. He smiles at me.
"Would you want to live all alone in a huge house far away from civilization?"
"No," I say, instantly understanding his point. "It's a gorgeous house, though."
"Want to see the rest of it?" he asks. I give him a pointed look. "Tour of the house it is." He briskly leaves the room, leaving me to scramble after him. He leads me up the grand, curving staircase.
"I've always liked staircases," I say, running my hand against the smooth, wooden railing. Jace turns to give me a funny look.
"Is that really your turn on? If I knew showing you a staircase would get you all hot and bothered I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of wooing you these last couple days." I glare at him.
"Nice."
"What can I say? You know where a man always keeps his mind. In his—"
"Yes, yes! We get it. You're a guy. You have needs."
"Clarissa Fray. Does the word 'penis' bother you?" I flush bright red. "You're a nurse!"
"Yeah. But—"
"Clary. You're a nurse."
"Shut up, Jace," I mutter. He laughs and turns the corner, opening the first door he sees.
"This was my room," he says. I glance in at a blue room that looks like it belongs to a little boy, right down to the race car bed against the wall.
"Nice bed. Do you bring all your dates here?"
"Haha, very funny. Notice the past tense. Was my room. Was."
"Mmmhmm," I say teasingly. He closes the door and then opens the one across the hall. "This was my parent's room." I take a quick look around the large sparse room. Sunlight filters through the thin gap in the curtains. He quickly leaves this room too, leading me down the hall. "This was my nanny's room," he says pointing to the room next to his.
"A nanny?"
"Yep," he responds, hurrying down the hall.
"So you were one of those kids." He flashes me a quick glare. "This is the sitting room, my dad's office…" he stops at the last door, stares at it, then turns around, making his way back down the hall.
"What's in there?" I ask.
"Nothing." He's facing me, obviously waiting for me to follow him.
"Is that your sex cave?" I ask.
"No," he says sternly, all teasing gone from his face. I look at him.
"Jace…"
"Come on, Clary," he says, clearly irritated. His quick change in attitude surprises me, and I quickly follow him down the hall.
"Do your parents own this house?" I ask him, wanting to break the awkward silence.
"No. I do." I feel my eyes widen in amazement.
"Oh," I manage to squeak out. He hurries down the hallway, leads me down the stairs and through the huge entryway and into the kitchen.
"I inherited it."
"From your parents?" The emotionless expression on his face scares me.
"Yes." My heart drops into my gut. His parents are dead? I clutch my stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous.
"I'm sorry," I say softly.
"No need. They've been dead for twelve years."
"They died when you were ten?" I exclaim. I slap my hand over my mouth. Way to be insensitive, Clary, I think.
"Yeah," he says, sitting on a stool and putting his head in his hands.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. A thought hits me. "Did they die in that room at the end of the hall?" Oh. My. God. What am I doing? He grips the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."
He stands, throwing open the back door and walking down onto the beach. I watch from the door as he walks to the edge of the water and stares over the pristine ocean. I want to follow him, but I don't, guessing he wants to be alone. He turns around and spots me.
"Go home, Clary!" he says, his voice sounding exactly the same as when I first met him. Arrogant. Distanced. Uncaring. "My keys are on the counter. I'll get Alec to pick me up." I stare at him as he turns away, instantly assuming that I'd follow his directions. Anger builds inside of me and I storm onto the beach, no longer thinking.
"You can't do that!"I yell at him.
"What?" he asks, his voice calm and collected.
"Flip that freakin' switch you have."
"Switch?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in amusement. The boy I met in the ER is back. The cliff boy, the Jace I actually like, is gone. I stand in front of him.
"You're acting like an asshole," I say, poking him in the chest. "Five minutes ago, you weren't."
"You get what you see, baby," he says gesturing to himself. "I never said I wasn't an ass." My shoulders slump and I shake my head at him, never dropping my eyes from his. He holds his smirk, his familiar uncaring expression covering his face.
"Jace," I say softly. The pounding waves cover the sound of my voice. "You're not an ass." He doesn't say anything and I worry that he didn't hear me.
"I am," he says.
"You're not," I say more confidently. "If you were an ass, you wouldn't have tried so hard to save that girl. You wouldn't have shown up at my place drunk and—" he turns away from me, briskly walking away. I follow behind him. "If you were an ass, you wouldn't have brought me here, for God's sake. You wouldn't show me this amazing place because you thought I would like it when coming here obviously causes you so much pain. You're not as cold and unfeeling as you think you are." He keeps walking, we quickly get farther and farther away from the house. "Jace! Jace, please. Please talk to me."
"You!" he says whirling on me. I stop short. "How can you…I mean…I had everything under control!" I can see the anger in his eyes.
"I don't believe that," I say quietly.
"Believe it."
"Becoming an ass when you don't want to deal with your problems isn't control, Jace. It's running away." He clenches his fists at his side.
"I am not a coward," he growls.
"No. That would be an insult to the cowards." I see anger fill his eyes and I'm suddenly afraid. Maybe I'm pushing too hard, much too hard. "You need to talk to someone," I say, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"And I assume you think that someone is you?" he asks, his voice radiating cool anger.
"No. I don't expect it to be me. You barely know me, but you need to talk to someone. You're angry, hurt and sad, and it's been building. I don't know what happened to you, but I can tell that, whatever it is, it's killing you."
"I'm fine," he says, but I see the uncertainty in his eyes.
"No. You're not, and you know it." His fists unclench and he drops his gaze from mine.
"You're right," he says softly. His warm golden eyes meet mine and I see resignation. "You—I mean—" Jace takes a step towards me and gently kisses me. I stand frozen. What's he doing? He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. All my thoughts start to drift away, and I lean into him. He pulls away, allowing us both to breathe and my thoughts come rushing back.
"Jace—" I say. He kisses me again. No. I push against him. The second he feels resistance his arms release me and I fall into the sand. He looks down at me, his eyes wide. I stare up at Jace, the taste and feel of his lips lingering on mine.
"What the hell was that?" he asks himself.
"I don't know," I say frantically, bordering on hysterically.
"Why would—holy shit!" He reaches his hand down to help me up and I take it, feeling a sudden wave of heat. A familiar heat. I stand facing him, staring into his golden eyes. Suddenly reality slaps me in the face.
"No," I say. "No, no, no, no, no." His startled expression turns confused. I feel a faint blush creep across my cheeks. He watches me carefully. "I have to go. Simon and I have…plans," I say.
"After all that trouble getting you out of work, you're just going to leave?" he asks, trying to return to our earlier banter. I look up and see that there's a tension in his eyes that wasn't there before. Suddenly, I feel exhausted after this roller-coaster of emotion. I close my eyes and let out a breath. When I open them, he's carefully watching me. "I call a re-do!" I shout out.
"What?"
"We're going to pretend that this whole day didn't happen. We can go back to the way things were." He looks at me skeptically. "To be effective immediately." He smiles at me.
"Deal," he says sticking his hand out. I shake it.