She hadn’t been able to understand everything he’d said, but his intent had been clear in the way he looked at her while fingering her hair, bringing a strand of it up to his face to sniff at exaggeratedly.
She’d frozen, completely frozen, mentally yanked into an old nightmare of another situation she hadn’t been able to control. And when she hadn’t responded to the guy, his grip on her tightened. Before she could draw a breath to scream, one of the American nurses shoved her way in front of Charlotte, hands out at her sides to keep Charlotte behind her as she stared up at the rebel. “Take the drugs and money and get the hell out of here.”
He’d laughed in her face, but Jane, all five feet four inches of her, hadn’t backed down.
And the rebels had finished their looting and gone.
Charlotte had fainted. Fainted. Even now, six years later, just thinking about it made her face heat with embarrassment and humiliation.
She’d taken a lot of self-defense classes since then, and had also had counseling. She’d like to think if anything like that happened now, she’d hold her own and be brave.
Brave as Jane had been that day.
But she’d not taken on any more of those clinics, instead staying in Tahoe and working at the local hospital. She loved it, loved the people, and yes, okay, it was safe.
But she liked safe.
Lived for it.
And the fact that she was living at all was thanks to Jane, and she’d never forget it.
Jane had her hand up, just about to ring the bell again, when she caught sight of Charlotte coming around from the side of the house. “Hey,” she called out, her smile fading at whatever she saw on Charlotte’s face. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, except for the fact that you’re ringing the doorbell. You have a key, and I know damn well you use it when I’m not home. You live here, Jane. You pay rent.”
Jane thrust out the bakery bag to Charlotte. “Heard about your rough shift. And you don’t ever take my money.”
Charlotte took the bakery bag, because there was stubborn and then there was stupid. And she refused to be stupid. “I could marry you for whatever is in this bag. And I do so take your rent money.”
“Charlotte, I checked my bank balance yesterday. You haven’t accepted my Venmo payment.”
Charlotte opened her mouth, but Jane pointed at her. “Did you accept Zoe’s and Mariella’s?”
Charlotte sighed.
“Thought so.” Jane shook her head. “You know I love what you’re doing here. Renting to women, making sure they’re safe. I know why you do it, and I admire it so much. But I want to be a part of it too. I want to help.”
“You already have.” Charlotte could feel herself getting emotional when she didn’t want to. “And what does this have to do with you refusing to let yourself in with your key?”
“Since you won’t take my rent, I’m technically not a renter. I’m a guest. And guests ring the bell.” She paused and softened her tone. “It’s not my room, Charlotte. It’s your den. I know you like to keep it open for me, but you could be renting it out and making money. We both know Sandra’s looking to stay longer.”
Charlotte opened the pastry bag. Her mouth watered at the huge blueberry lemon muffin, her favorite. Even knowing it was her entire day’s calories wasn’t going to stop her. “Okay, first, you don’t have to bring me food, but thank you for doing it anyway. And second, that room is for me to choose what to do with. And I choose to keep it a den slash bedroom. For you. You aren’t a damn guest, Jane. You’re family.”
“You just swore,” Jane said, looking shocked. “You never swear.”
“Then I must mean it.” Charlotte opened the front door and walked inside.
Jane laughed and followed her in. “I bring you food because you do so much for me and I feel like it’s the only thing I can do for you in return.”
“Oh my God,” Charlotte said, tossing up her hands. “It’s like you want me to yell at you.” She turned and put her hands on Jane’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You’re my dearest friend, you’re always there for me, hardly ever try to boss me around, and after long, tragic, horrific days in the OR, you make me laugh. You make me feel human. So trust me when I say, I’m the one that gets the most out of this relationship.”
Jane blinked, looking thrown off balance. “I . . . didn’t know any of that.”
“Well, now you do.”
Jane took a deep breath and headed through the living room. She opened the sliding glass door, stepped outside, and sat on the stoop so that the huge gray cat waiting for her could hop into her lap.
Charlotte stepped outside too, shutting the door behind them before reaching out to stroke the cat, who allowed it once, twice, and on the third attempt, batted Charlotte’s hand away, making her laugh. “Oh to be a cat and simply slap the shit out of anything I don’t like.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said as the behemoth cat jumped lithely down to wrap himself around Jane’s ankles.
“Why are you sorry if he’s not your cat?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “No one owns this cat. Sometimes he chooses to come visit me, that’s all.”
With a heavy thud, the cat jumped onto the patio table. Jane nudged him down. “No furniture.”
The cat sat on his haunches looking offended.
Charlotte snorted. “Feed your stray, then let me feed mine.”
“Are you comparing me to the cat?”
“You have to admit, there are some similarities.” Grinning at Jane’s grimace, she went into her favorite room in the house. The kitchen. Five minutes later it was already scented with the bacon and eggs she had going. She set out plates and grabbed the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge.
Yes, it was winter in Tahoe, and the outside temperature was maybe thirty-five degrees with a wind chill that made it seem half that, but Jane loved iced tea.
And Charlotte loved Jane, so iced tea it was.
Jane came into the kitchen, prepared a bowl of food for Cat, and set it down at the back door where he was waiting. She was quiet. Not a seething quiet, but a thoughtful, reflective sort of silent that meant she was thinking and thinking hard about something.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked.
Jane looked up suspiciously. “What’s what?”
“Something’s bothering you.”
Jane smiled warmly. “Have you met me? Everything bothers me.”
“Has something happened?”
Jane hesitated.
“Spill.”
“I might’ve done something potentially stupid.”
“You don’t do stupid.”
Jane laughed a little mirthlessly. “I agreed to go out on a date—a pretend date—with Levi.”
Charlotte gaped. “Hot guy from the gondola.”
“I really wish you’d stop calling him that.”
“Just calling it like it is,” Charlotte said. “And the date’s pretend . . . why?”
“I told you what he did when we thought we were going to die.”
“Yes. He told his mom he had someone in his life so she wouldn’t worry.” Charlotte smiled. “So incredibly sweet. But still not hearing the potentially stupid part.”