“When you came in the studio today, you were standing there all geared up with this bulletproof vest on, and all of a sudden I realized that your job is dangerous. Before that I never really thought about what you do at work every day, and I definitely never considered how you could get hurt.” I narrow my eyes on him. “And you act like it’s no big deal. Like it’s something to joke about. Meanwhile, I spent the whole afternoon with a stomachache, all because I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”
“Anya,” he says with a sigh, “I wasn’t joking about that. I was just—”
Calmly, I lift a hand to stop him. He’s clearly trying to pacify me, and I don’t want that.
“I know I’m not entitled to worrying about you or to fussing over you, JT. We aren’t in a relationship and I have no say over how you make a living. I get that, I do. But this part of me”—I tap my fingers over my heart—“doesn’t understand that. This afternoon, all logic went out the window and the only thing that mattered was knowing you were safe. I know that sounds nuts, but I can’t help it.”
JT is quiet for a moment. Then he shakes his head tiredly. “I don’t like upsetting you. I hate that I did that.”
He tugs me closer until I have no choice but to crawl up and straddle his lap, wrapping myself against him as JT buries his face into my hair.
“Just because I make a few jokes doesn’t mean I don’t take my job seriously. I do.” He raises his head again, scanning my face. “And I know that every single person I work with is someone I can trust with my life, because we train for this every day. That way, when it gets stupid in the field, we don’t fuck up. But I forgot about what it’s like for the people who aren’t out there with us, who don’t know how good we are. Other than my parents, it’s been a while since I had someone in my life that gave a shit about whether I come home or not.”
“What about your ex-wife? I’m sure waiting for you to get home at night gave her a few gray hairs.”
JT rolls his eyes a little before running a hand over his face and sighing. “My job was an issue, but not because it’s dangerous. That wasn’t the problem. Being a Marshal pays pretty well, just not enough to give her the life she wanted.”
“Is that part of why you split up? Money stuff?”
I half expect him to tell me to back off, or at the very least, to fidget a little before answering—but he doesn’t.
“Not just part of it. Money was the reason.” He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, worrying it for a long beat. “If she wanted a bigger house, a new car, or a new purse, whatever, I figured out a way to get it for her, even if I had to buy it with money I didn’t have. I thought I could buy her happiness, I guess. Which is a fucking joke, I know that now. It just took me a few years and a hell of a lot of debt to figure that out. Now I’m just trying to clean up my mistakes.”
“But you guys bought that stuff while you were together, so that means it’s a joint thing, right? Is she at least helping you clean up the debt?”
JT shakes his head. “She doesn’t really have an income. Nicole never wanted a career, which wasn’t an issue, but I tried to give her a life we couldn’t afford on just my salary. I should have thought all of that through before we got married and been upfront with her from the beginning, so she could decide if what I could give her was enough.”
I study his face and the way his brow furrows, like he’s still wondering what he could have done differently, even though I can’t understand why that is. Not when his marriage sounds like it wasn’t much of a partnership to begin with and his divorce was even less so. Then it hits me that maybe—despite the debt and the divorce and everything else—JT hasn’t moved on. Maybe he doesn’t want to let go of what he’d done wrong because he doesn’t want to let go of Nicole.
Ouch.
I wince a little at how sharply that idea stings, right against the raw, tender parts of my heart I didn’t know were still up for grabs. It’s the same place inside me where JT is more than a rebound or a distraction—no matter how much I claim otherwise.
Keeping my expression carefully neutral, I run a hand through his hair.
“Do you still love her?”
He balks, but only for a second. After that he looks at me curiously.
“I’ll always feel something for her,” he finally admits. “But it’s not love, not anymore. Truth is, I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with all of the shit feelings that came with getting divorced. I’m not pining away for her or anything, I just regret not being the husband I should have been.”
Another sharp sting, this one a little deeper inside. I’m no licensed therapist or anything, but even I can hear how unsure he sounds. At the very least, JT doesn’t sound like a man who’s truly moved on. And he definitely doesn’t sound like a man who’s ready to give love another shot.
He blows out a long exhale, skimming his hand down my thigh.
“We’re supposed to be having fun tonight. So talking about my divorce shouldn’t be on the menu. Let’s get back to what we do best, okay?”
JT forces a smile. I do the same, but it only makes the hurt in my heart grow bigger. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, I know that, but there’s no denying it now—I am in so much trouble here. Because my stupid, stupid heart has gone and done the unthinkable.
Fallen for someone whose heart is already spoken for.
13
JT
I wake up with a start in the dark of my bedroom, and for no particular reason. Without even thinking, I run my hand across the sheets, searching out the warm, lush body I fell asleep next to.
Ah. That’s the problem.
Anya isn’t next to me. And since there’s a damn good chance that I’ve developed a weird sixth sense about her, it stands to reason that I’d wake up if she was gone for too long. I’m not entirely comfortable with this new found intuition, but it’s probably better if I own it, instead of pretending otherwise. Lying to yourself is never a good idea. That’s something I learned the hard way—and at an interest rate that makes my stomach churn.
I shove the covers down and lean back on my forearms to try to scan the room in the dark. There’s no light shining out from under the bathroom door and all of the hallway lights are still off. I crane my head toward the doorway and listen for any noises, but all I can hear is my wristwatch ticking away on the nightstand.
Throwing off the bedcovers, I flip on the bedside lamp. There’s no point in lying here. Until I know where she disappeared to, I won’t be able to do anything but stare at the ceiling and worry.
I grab my jeans off the floor and tug them on, then look around for my t-shirt. I faintly remember Anya tugging it off me and tossing it behind her, but most of what happened after that is a blur. I give up after looking under the bed and behind the dresser, and then start down the hallway bare-chested and barefooted. The house is ours for the next few days and it’s the middle of the night in the suburbs, so I’m not too worried about running into anyone while I’m half-dressed.
Upstairs, I peer out the front window and even though I don’t see any lights on at the Greenes’ house, I head that way anyway since Anya is nowhere else to be found. Her car is in the driveway, which means she couldn’t have gone far, and I can’t think of any reason she would go running off in the middle of the night in the first place. We both fell asleep after a particularly hot round in my bed, one that left us both exhausted but satisfied. My cock wakes up a bit just thinking about it… which also helps me figure out where Anya might be.