Page 36 of The Rookie's Second Chance

The knot in my stomach tightened, but I nodded and pulled out the chair. "Sure."

She resumed eating, a quiet symphony of fork against plate filling the space between us.

"You don't have to stay here on account of me," I said after a moment, watching her push spaghetti around her plate.

Mandy looked up, her eyes holding a glimmer of something raw. "After the break-in, I don't know... I just feel safer with someone around."

"Shit, Mandy, I'm sorry," I murmured, the guilt coiling tighter. "I should've been here."

She shook her head, reaching out to touch my hand briefly. I wanted to pull away, but didn’t want her to feel alone. "You can't glue yourself to the house, Jake. You have a life and a job. I get it."

We fell into a kind of rhythm, small talk that danced around the edges of the deeper, murkier waters we were avoiding—namely, the way she was barely hiding her interest, which I was doing my best to keep in a platonic territory. I told her about some harmless work antics, keeping it light, while she talked about a book she'd been reading.

As the minutes ticked by, I could see the tension easing out of her shoulders, her laugh more genuine, and the shadows under her eyes less pronounced.

I let her talk, let her fill the space with words that didn't probe too deep. Every once in a while, I’d answer with a nod or a chuckle, but my mind was on the case, on Lexi, and on the plate of food in front of me that I didn't eat.

Her fork finally rested beside her nearly empty plate. “Thanks for sitting with me, Jake.”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied, pushing my untouched food away, anxious to get to my room and have some time alone. “I’m gonna hit the sack. Big day tomorrow.”

She nodded, though the longing in her eyes was clear. “Good night, Jake.”

“Night, Mandy.”

I flicked off the kitchen light, leaving only the soft glow of the living room lamp to guide her way to bed later. As I closed my bedroom door behind me, the muffled sound of her fork scraping the last bits of her meal was like a whisper, reminding me of the responsibilities I had, the ones I didn’t ask for but felt all the same.

My bedroom felt like a refuge as I kicked off my boots and flopped onto the bed. The text icon on my phone blinked with a message from Kayla, and a grin tugged at my lips despite the evening's awkwardness.

"Just got home," I texted back. "Tonight was fun, even with the creepy Vault discovery."

The three dots that signaled her reply seemed to take an eternity. "It felt like old times. No, scratch that. It felt better than any old time."

Her message warmed something inside me, a contrast to the chill of the sheets against my skin. I stared at the ceiling, the glow from my phone casting shadows around the room.

"But hey, I gotta admit something," I typed, my thumbs hesitating over the keys.

"What's up?" she replied almost instantly.

"It's Mandy... she's getting this look in her eyes. I think she’s taking a liking to me, and I don't wanna lead her on or hurt her."

The three dots appeared and vanished, once, twice, before her message came through. "Shit, that's a tight spot. But you're a good guy, Jake. She's lucky to have someone to feel safe around."

"Yeah, but it's not just that. I feel protective of her, with the stalker shit going on. It’s all tangled up."

"You can be protective without it meaning more. Just be straight with her, and with me, okay?"

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. "Always, Kayla. I’m with you on this. You know that, right?"

"I do. We'll figure it out. Together."

I smiled in the dark, comforted by her words, by the feeling of being a team. It felt like a weight had been lifted, like I could breathe a bit easier.

"Goodnight, Kayla," I sent after a moment, my eyelids heavy.

"Sweet dreams, Jake."

I set the phone down, the screen's light fading to black. The silence of the house settled around me, Mandy's presence a silent sentinel in the room next door. I felt the pull of sleep dragging me under, but my mind played over Kayla's words, a mantra to keep the complications at bay.

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