Free The Wager by Rachel van Dyken Page A

joke.
    “It’s fine.” Char laughed bitterly. “We barely talk to one another anymore; there’s no way you would have known it was my birthday. I just—I don’t know. Beth had to leave for a work trip this morning and I know she was stressed, too. Maybe I sound like a complete child, but just for once… I wanted someone—other than Kacey—to remember.”
    “I’m an ass,” Jake whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
    “No.” Char pointed at him. “See, that’s not what I want. Pity isn’t the same thing. It sucks. I get pity all the time. ‘Oh look, that’s the poor news reporter that was drunk during the five o’clock news and fell out of her chair!’ ‘Oh look, there’s Char; she’s funny but don’t take her seriously.’ ‘Oh, how sad, Char’s family doesn’t even celebrate Christmas together because they leave her for vacation.’ Or how about this one: I can’t even visit my parents today and give them a piece of my mind because they’re spending the weekend on Alkai Beach.”
    Jake licked his lips and watched as Char’s dark hair blew in the wind. Her blouse tightened across her chest as it rose and fell with her exertions. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Maybe lunch wasn’t such a good idea. I’m just not in the mood to be social, and then I come here and everything is so easy for you, and you have the audacity to feel sad because your grandma’s living with you and forcing you to eat donuts and drink wine. Hell, I’d kill for that.”
    Never in his life had Jake ever felt so low. He’d just yelled at Grandma that morning for fixing him eggs. In fact, he’d told her to eat her own damn eggs and leave him the hell alone. Then he’d taken it a step further and actually asked for his job back. And here Char was, alone on her birthday, and apologizing for being bad company. What the hell was wrong with him? He deserved her reprimand and more, though to be honest, nobody had ever reprimanded him other than Grandma.
    And that’s when he saw it.
    The pull, the reason he was so unable to leave well enough alone—her strength. He craved what he saw in her so much—his subconscious, moral compass, everything about him was so screwed up that he craved her the same way an alcoholic craves whiskey.
    Regardless of his feelings, he needed to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with anyone when he knew his own life was on such shaky ground. But he could—no, he would—make it better. He was being given a second chance, to be the hero, to be the good guy, and he was going to take it.
    He stood very slowly and walked around the table to where Char was standing. With fluid movements he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. “Do you know where your parents are staying?”
    She cursed into his chest. “I could always text them; that is, if they even answer their phones. Why?”
    Jake laughed, though on the inside he was cursing a blue streak for her parents’ selfishness. “Well, I have a plan. We’re going to visit them, right now. Call work.” His heart beat a little faster in his chest, almost like a rush of adrenaline as a plan began to form in his head. Maybe it was pride, not selfish pride, but him actually being proud of a decision he was making on someone else’s behalf.
    “But Jake.” Char pulled away. “What are we going to do? Go to their little bed and breakfast and demand they wish me a happy birthday?”
    Jake laughed. “You’ll see.”
    “Jake, seriously, I’m not in the mood for games and I don’t even know where they are.”
    “We may not know, but I think I know a woman who used to work for the CIA.”
    “Huh?”
    “Let me give my people a call.”
    “Your ‘people’?” Char repeated. “I think being jobless has already addled that sexy brain of yours.” With a gasp she covered her mouth. “It was the wine! Crap!”
    “You think I’m sexy?” He baited her with a wink; old habits die hard. And he hadn’t