Whispers that Scream

Chapter Eighteen

Adam

Adam returned to his own home and headed straight to the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to get the gel he used for special occasions out of his hair immediately. After his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the mirror clear of steam. He avoided even eye contact with his own reflection while brushing his teeth, flossing, and then using mouthwash. In that order, always that order.

He had just changed into one of his more frayed shirts and his grey pajama pants, not expecting anyone to see it this late at night when his house started to shake from a pounding at the door. He rushed to the door. He needed the knocking to stop immediately.

He flung open the door to see Jane dressed in her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, gasping for breath. He threw open the door so quickly that she couldn't stop her fist in time and punched him right in the chest.

"Oof," he let slip as he staggered a couple of steps back. She had the reach, the height, the speed, and the power. Maybe, he should try to convince her to drop the interior design idea and start training her for the ring. He rubbed his chin getting lost in his own thoughts as he so often did. He was halfway through devising a training schedule for her when she interrupted him.

"Whoops! Sorry," Jane said as she let herself into his house without invitation.

His thoughts returned to the situation at hand, and he tried to figure out what was going on. "Jane? Is something wrong?

Jane went straight for his love seat, taking a seat as if she owned it before thinking better of it and standing back up again.

"Sarah texted me!" she yelled shrilly, bouncing up and down on her toes. He had never seen her like this, so happy, so energetic.

He found himself smiling with her enthusiasm rubbing off on him.

"That's amazing! I'm so happy for you Jane."

Was this what she was like before her marriage? Before Him? He looked over at the animated Jane asking him a million questions about where she and Sarah should go, what she should say, how she should apologize, and couldn't help his thoughts from turning dark. What kind of sick bastard would want to smother this? Stamp this out. She practically lit up his living room with her energy, twirling around with one giggle after another. He'd never let this spark in her die again.

Jane clapped, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he hadn't responded to any of her questions so far, but she had answered them all herself. She could have been talking to a scarecrow instead of him, and he wasn't sure she would have noticed.

"That's right. It doesn't matter where we meet, and I'll know what to say when the time comes," she talked to herself in a semi-straight jacket kind of way.

He cleared his throat and contributed to the conversation for the first time since she had shown up. "Jane, you'll figure this out and do fine. Meeting her is the most important thing. Don't get too caught up in the little things."

Of course, it might have been the most hypocritical thing that had ever come out of his mouth. All he did was get caught up in the insignificant details. He blushed at his audacity to speak such a sentence out loud.

"You're right. Of course, you're right. I shouldn't overthink it," Jane said not noticing the double standard he had set for her. She stopped her twirling as she thought about his words, then gave him a small wave as she rushed out the door. "Thanks, Adam. You were a big help tonight."

But, I didn't do anything. Did I? 

He walked over to his side window just in time to see her try to jump the bottom two steps from his porch and trip on the lip of the last stair. She fell face-first into the gravel below. His jaw dropped open, and his eyes bulged at the shocking scene. She popped up in a flash.