“I’m sure he has a pretty good idea by now,” Dylan said.
Did he, though?
“I’m thinking you’ve got some time,” Traci said in a teasing tone. “You were outside for a while. We need to get you home and warm.”
“All right,” she replied. She looked at Dylan’s back. He looked tense, and no wonder. It took everything she had not to press her palms to her eyes and attempt to block everything out.
When they pulled up to the house, she and Dylan got out. Without a word, he went to the cruiser’s trunk, pulled out her purse, and handed it back to her.
“Thanks. Are you coming in, too?”
“Yeah. I will for a second, but then I’m going to have to get back to the station.” He leaned into the open door. “I’ll be right back, Lucky.”
“Take your time,” Traci said, holding up her phone. “I need to look through these emails.”
“Come on, Jennifer,” he murmured, as he helped her walk to the door.
Feeling like a little kid, she kept her mouth shut and stood there while he unlocked the door and helped her enter.
She’d expected him to help her upstairs and convey that they’d talk later.
Instead, he closed the door and leaned against it. “So,” he said.
This was awful. Though all she wanted to do was get some water, go to the bathroom, and then soak in a hot bathtub, Jennifer knew she needed to clear things up for both their sakes. Setting her purse on the floor, she said, “I guess you’d like to talk right now?”
“Yeah. We better.”
She noticed that he looked both apprehensive and resigned. Neither was a welcome sign. Determined to at least sound normal, she said, “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll make a pot of coffee, and you can take some out to Traci.”
“Sounds good, but I don’t have much time.”
He was hardly looking at her. “I understand.” Half hopping to the kitchen, she rinsed out the morning’s dregs in the coffee pot and then pushed a button on her industrial-sized grinder to start the beans.
Since it was that easy, she sat down in one of their chairs next to the kitchen table and waited. Dylan sat down, too. But though her day had had a happy ending, he looked weary. Absolutely exhausted.
This was her fault. She needed to clear the air and try to get them back on the right track. “Dylan, I don’t know how to apologize to you enough.”
“Just tell me what happened, Jen.”
“All right. Well, um, I guess you know that Jack invited me to lunch.”
“I heard about that. And I heard how you accepted and went to his house.”
Each word he said sounded like it was getting torn out of him. “I did. And though I was feeling a little panicked, I was determined to go through with it.”
“But then you took off?”
“Well, kind of. I mean, I meant to stay there, but then—”
“But then you couldn’t take it and got scared?”
How had he put that together? “Uh, no.”
But before she could explain about Harvard, Dylan stood up and stared pacing. “I thought you were dead,” he said.
“No. Dylan—”
“I thought that guy had found you and kidnapped you. I thought that Jack guy had raped you. I thought about a dozen scenarios and each one was worse than the other.” He stopped and stared at her. “I pretty much lost my mind.”
“I’m sorry. If I would have known what was going to happen, you know I wouldn’t have left the truck.” She shook her head. “Or the bookstore.”
“Or the house?” he added. Still looking haunted, he said, “Jennifer, I think we might need to look at other options for you.”
A tremor zipped up her spine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I love you, but I don’t know if I’m the best person to take care of you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” When he raised his eyebrows, she lifted her chin. “I’m not a child.”
“No, you’re not. But today was bad. It’s obvious that you’re not all right. Not anywhere close to being all right. I’m no counselor, Jen.”
She didn’t need him to be one, either.
So many emotions were pulsing through her, she could hardly contain herself. She wanted to argue, try to explain herself. She wanted to do a lot of things and offer a bunch of excuses . . . but she knew he was in such a dark place that he wouldn’t believe them anyway.
“I understand,” she finally replied. Turning to the kitchen that she’d perfectly arranged, she limped to a small cupboard and got out two ceramic to-go cups. As Dylan watched, she filled the cups, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out the cream. “Traci likes cream, I think,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“But I already am.” She poured a couple of tablespoons into one of the cups, fastened lids onto both and handed them to her brother. “Here you go. I’ll see you later.”
He took both. Looked like he was about to say something, but in the end simply turned around and walked out.
When the door closed, she carefully locked it and then got herself her own cup of coffee. Then she sat down and pulled out her cell phone. She thought about Jack and how she owed him a call, about their parents—she needed to talk to them before they heard about this latest drama from Dylan. She thought about Melissa, her counselor.
But instead of calling anyone, she simply sat and sipped a whole cup of coffee. And then she slowly made her way upstairs, turned on the bathtub faucet, and took a very long, very hot bath.
CHAPTER 28
“I try to dress classy and dance cheesy.”
—Psy
Had she ever been more thankful for dance? Shannon doubted it. After learning that Jennifer was fine and that Traci was back at the precinct with Dylan, Shannon had been so relieved that tears had filled her eyes.
Then, on its heels, were all the things that Dylan had told her. How he’d trusted her and she’d let him down. How she’d failed Jennifer.
How Dylan no longer had anything to say to her.
And . . . how she’d felt about all of that.
She’d been so torn up, both with his words and the knowledge that she’d been unable to move.
And then she’d gotten angry.
Knowing that yelling or calling him back and giving him a piece of her mind wasn’t going to happen, Shannon had walked down the stairs, double-checked her schedule, and taught that private swing class and the high school girls’ tap class.