Page 101 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Okay.” Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears.

He opened the door and got in the SUV, pulling the door shut with more force than necessary, and she jumped.

After starting the engine, he rolled down the window. “You felt it too.” He met her gaze. “If you're ever ready to stop running, call me.” With that, he drove away.

Even after the taillights disappeared, she stood on the driveway. What had she done? She dropped her face to her hands, fighting the urge to scream—to lash out at the world. All she wanted was to be normal.

Failed again.

He’d offered to show her intimacy, and instead of embracing the offer, she panicked. Yes, her reaction was understandable, given what she’d been through, but he would’ve been happy to back off—to keep things at a slow pace. His chivalry was unquestionable, so why couldn’t she just let go and accept what he was offering?

Because I’m a freak.

The stark truth. She was an oddity, someone out of step with the world. She couldn’t reconcile physical attraction with emotional pain. Her one chance at more, and she’d blown it. Spectacularly.

Finally, with leaden feet, she headed back to the house. Entering the hall, she listened for voices. Hearing none, she crossed to the stairs and headed for her room. Although the light under Olivia's door was visible, she didn't have the guts to relay Jake's message. In the morning she’d tell Olivia that her uncle planned to call, as well as the fact that she and Jake fought. Olivia deserved some kind of explanation, if not all the details.

He was right—she had to watch her own prejudices. On the one hand, she didn't want Olivia to perceive that all men were bad, but on the other hand, she worried the young woman might become promiscuous. She saw no proof of that—for which she was grateful. Her own therapist had warned her that she might only be able to connect with men on a sexual level.

Nope. No worries on that count.

Entering her bathroom, she flipped on the light. The woman in the mirror looked a little ravished. Her hair, yet again left loose, was a little tangled. Her lips were puffy and well-kissed.

Or maybe it’s my imagination.

Suddenly a sharp pain throbbed on the left side of her head, as if someone had impaled her with a screwdriver. Unsurprisingly, her headache had returned. Stress-related? Possibly.

Unwilling to contemplate it longer than necessary, she counted two pills out from her pill bottle and chased them down with a glass of water.

Driven by a pain that quickly became overwhelming, she lay on her duvet, clothes and all.

Despite the nausea and pain, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Chapter thirty-three

JakewatchedasJessicarolled her luggage from the bedroom.

“Once again, thank you for saving my ass.”

“As cute as your ass is, McGrath, I’m not sure I saved it.” Her green eyes were lasers on him. “You look like your dog died.”

“I never had a dog.”

“You know what I mean.”

Aw shit.“I blew it. I was this close, and I blew it.”

Jess placed her laptop case on the table, pointed to the stool, and he obediently sat.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“My cab won’t be here for another fifteen minutes. If I’m up here, I’m less tempted to go downstairs and bum a smoke.”

“Didn’t you quit?”

“I did.” She stuck her nose in the air with indignation. “My contact with the Taliban is a smoker. I might’ve had a few.”

He shook his head. “For such a smart woman, you do some dumb things.”

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