Page 11 of Guarded from Corruption

As much as I hate to think it, it’s not surprising that Jade would be targeted. She’s gorgeous—maybe that’s wrong to think about my sister’s best friend, but it’s the truth. Bright blue eyes, long, red-gold hair, a cute little spray of freckles across her nose, and she just has this way about her. She demands attention without even trying.

And she doesn’t try; that’s the thing. Since I’ve known Jade, she’s been laser-focused on school or work. I’ve seen her laughing and letting loose with Shea, but around other people, Jade is friendly, but reserved.

Honestly, when Shea was in college, I was relieved that she found Jade. The first time I met Jade while I was home on leave, she shook my hand and earnestly thanked me for my service. And when I asked her about her classes, she spent five minutes outlining her ten-year plan to become a physician assistant in a family practice.

Which she did. Ahead of schedule, actually.

I’ve learned over the years that Jade is much more than that. She’s loyal. Incredibly smart. Quietly funny. Stubborn to a fault. And while she’s normally reserved, she’s bold when she needs to be.

While I know I didn’t act like it before, when everything with Shea blew up, I care about Jade. Probably more than I should. Which makes it even harder to listen to her crying. And it makes it a hundred times worse to think about her going through such a traumatic thing.

“Niall?” The bathroom door opens, and Jade peeks her head through. “Did Rhiannon bring any clothes over yet? Or…”

Her eyes are red. Dammit. My chest constricts. But I force a smile and grab the stack of folded clothes from the dresser, carrying them over to the bathroom. “She did. There’s extra; she wanted you to have some options to choose from.”

As Jade reaches out for the clothes, her other hand clutches at her towel, and I sternly scold myself for even considering glancing at the swell of her breasts.

Just because she looks so pretty, her damp hair more red than gold, cheeks pink from the heat of the shower, her eyes the exact color of the sky in summer…

No. She’s been through an incredibly traumatic experience. I shouldn’t even be noticing what Jade looks like.

Before she closes the door again, I ask quickly, “What do you want to eat? I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, so I didn’t want to start… But I have soup. Sandwiches. Cereal. Some frozen stuff. Burritos. Wings. Or if you want something else, I could ask one of the other guys.”

Jade stares at me with an indecipherable expression. Then one corner of her lip lifts, just the tiniest bit. “Still haven’t learned how to cook?”

“I have.” I give her a mock-affronted look, but I’m actually thrilled to see her smile. “I can cook. I just don’t. For one guy, it doesn’t make sense. But if you want something, I’ll figure out how to make it.”

“A sandwich is fine.” She pauses, her smile dropping, and a tiny line forms between her brows. “I’m just teasing, Niall. Anything is good?—”

“I know.” Smiling, I add, “Shea gives me a hard time about it all the time. I’m not offended. But you’ll see. This will be the best sandwich you’ve ever had.”

It’s a pretty good sandwich, if I say so myself. Turkey, smoked gouda, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, a bit of spicy mustard all on fresh sourdough, served with a cup of cream of mushroom soup on the side.

The soup is actually from Dante, who brought it over while I was making the sandwich. From the doorway—I know he wanted to give Jade her space rather than coming right in like he would normally—he said, “I made it last night. So it’s fresh. I knew you wouldn’t be much use in the kitchen…”

Man. It’s not that I can’t cook. I just choose not to.

But I wasn’t going to turn away Dante’s cooking. Even though we’ve only been living at the new HQ for a little over a month, we quickly figured out who the best cook was, and everyone is constantly nagging him to cook dinner for us.

We’re sitting at the kitchen table, and I’ve already demolished my sandwich while Jade is nibbling halfheartedly at hers. I’m torn whether to push her on it or not. If she escaped sometime last night, and it’s past ten in the morning now, plus hours of running, like she said, Jade needs way more nourishment.

But on the other hand, I don’t want to add more stress to the situation. Jade’s hanging on to her control by a thread—I can see it the way she gnaws on her lip, how she taps the table and jitters her foot, the tight set of her shoulders and her jaw—and I don’t want to be the one to break it.

Jade takes another bite of her sandwich and sets it down with a soft sigh. Her eyes raise from her plate to meet mine. “Sorry. It’s a good sandwich. My stomach just… I can’t manage it.”

“It’s okay. Whatever you don’t finish, I can put it in the fridge. Or make you another one later. Or make you something different.”

Her teeth make little marks in her lower lip. “Your team. They must want to talk to me. Right?”

“Well, they want to know what happened,” I clarify. “So we can help you. But you don’t have to meet with everyone at once. And it doesn’t have to be today. I’m sure you’re exhausted. So you can get some sleep, try to eat some more, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Alright. But.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Niall.”

“What? Why?”

“For calling you. I’m sure… you don’t want me here.”

It’s a kick to the chest. Does she really think that?

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