Then, suddenly, her body responded. He was too big, too close, and his proximity to her on the ground triggered far too many reactions.
Mainly, panic.
Feeling off-kilter, she pulled away from him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She couldn’t talk. Could barely get to her feet.
The woman hurried to her side. “Honey? What happened? Did you get burned after all?”
She shook her head. Suddenly, it felt like her cheeks were frozen. No, it felt like all of her was frozen in place. Hating herself for not being able to do more, she whispered, “Sorry,” before turning back to the door.
Feeling like the whole world was buzzing, she pushed on it hard.
Rushed outside and tried to remember all of the coping exercises Melissa had taught her for panic attacks.
Just as the door was swinging shut behind her, the guy stopped it. “Mom, watch Harvard!” he called out.
The door closed with a snap behind them.
The air was still cold. But now, instead of yearning to button up her coat more, she was tempted to pull it off. To let the air revitalize her. To do something.
“Hey.”
Now that she’d finally gotten her bearings, Jennifer turned around. He was standing about three feet away. His hands were raised like he was afraid of making any wrong move. Boy, she was such a mess.
“What did I do?” he asked.
What could she say but the truth? “Nothing.”
His eyes skimmed her cheek. She knew he noticed her scar. Was probably now wondering what it was from. But he didn’t say anything more.
Which made her feel like she could finally speak again. “My problem isn’t with you. It’s . . . it’s me. I . . . Well, I sometimes get panic attacks.” Okay. She sounded pitiful, but at least she was talking.
“I spilled hot coffee on your leg. That had to hurt. Will you come in? At the very least, you can go to the restroom and wash it off.”
She couldn’t go back in that store. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“I feel terrible. Are you sure you aren’t burned?”
“Don’t. Like I said, a lot of what’s going on is me, not you.” Which sounded like a bad line from some Lifetime movie.
“I feel like I’ve ruined your day.” Frustration was thick in every word. “If you want, I’ll stay away from you in the store.”
She wanted to be normal so badly. She wanted to be normal and easy going and the way she used to be. “I’m just going to go.” She turned toward her car and started walking.
“Can I at least know your name?”
She turned around. “Why?”
“Because, at the very least, I’d like to know the name of the pretty girl whose day I ruined.”
Before she realized she was doing it, she smiled. “You didn’t ruin my day.”
“I’m Jack. You already met my dog. He’s Harvard. And my mom, her name is Camille.” He gazed at her longer. Patiently waiting.
“I’m Jennifer.”
He smiled. “I promise that I’m not here all the time. Come back another day, okay?”
“Okay.” After noticing again that his eyes seemed kind, she turned back and started walking again. Behind her, she could hear the door open and whoosh shut.
By the time she got into her car, locked the doors, and put on her seatbelt, she almost felt okay.
* * *
“God, I’m not sure what just happened there, but I’m just going to go with it.”
Of course she didn’t hear a reply as she pulled out of the parking lot. But she did feel a strange, almost-forgotten feeling of satisfaction.
She might not have accomplished her task, but at least she’d done something. And even though it felt like everything that could have gone wrong actually had, she had survived.
She was a survivor.
CHAPTER 7
“Every time I dance, I’m trying to
prove myself to myself.”
—Misty Copeland
Saturday Night
“How did it go?” Jennifer asked Dylan when he walked into their house a little after nine that evening.
Dylan thought about the last twelve hours as he unbuckled his shoulder holster. “Pretty good. All in all, I think my first full shift with Traci went okay. At least, I think so.
Jennifer lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“Bridgeport might take a little bit of getting used to for Traci.” He’d been hoping for a quiet night so the two of them would have time to drive around the small town and do a little surveillance, but mainly have time to simply get to know each other. That didn’t happen. “Right off the bat, we got called to a house smack in the middle of Symphony subdivision.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “Fancy.”
She didn’t lie. Symphony was a relatively new neighborhood with large million-dollar houses on one-acre lots. Usually, the most anyone on the force ever saw of the area was when one of them was asked to do private security for a party when they were off duty.
This time, though, the party they’d visited had been anything but fancy. A concerned neighbor had called about a bunch of teenagers having a party. When he and Traci had knocked on the door, they’d discovered that those kids had been doing their best to put a dent in the home’s liquor supply. They’d all been underage.
But the worst part had been that the parents were home. They’d decided to let their daughter host a party, turning a blind eye to what was going on in their basement and on their front lawn. He and Traci had ended up having to call all the kids’ parents, who’d either yelled at the parent hosts, their kids, or him and his new partner. It had been a long afternoon.
“The house was fancy enough. The parents who’d been letting a bunch of underage kids drink? I’m hoping they’ll be thinking something different now.”
“Are the kids okay?”
He finished locking up his gun then joined her at the island. Taking a seat, he accepted the IPA she handed him with a grateful smile. He didn’t like to get drunk, but every once in a while, a good beer sure hit the spot.
“I think the kids will be all right. I mean, as well as they can be after they sober up.”
“How did Traci do?”
That was where he was a little confused. “She was good, I think. She knows what she’s doing, and I have to say that she was great with the kids . . .”