Page 26 of The Making of Marnie Jones

I have certain triggers—smells, sights, sounds—and they take me right back to that basement. There are the times when I have a nightmare-filled sleep.

His eyes burned with unshed tears.

Had he triggered her tonight by making her revisit the trauma she’d endured? Instead of calling her naïve, he should’ve called her brave. He should’ve been reassuring her rather than challenging. Instead, he’d taken his frustration at Lydia out on the one person who deserved it least.

Bleakness setting in, and facing a long night, he sent a quick text.

Unsurprisingly, his phone rang in under a minute.

“What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” Ten at night in Mission City was one in the morning in Toronto.

“Lying awake, debating whether to go back to the hospital tomorrow.” Wolf’s tone was grim. “I’m wasting my time because of course I’m going back. I have to go back. I’ll keep going back until she either sees me, or until she’s in a better place emotionally.”

“It amazes me you know her emotional state even though you can’t see her. Is the pretty nurse giving you privileged information?” Even as he asked, Jake knew the answer.

Wolf let out a sharp breath. “Even if I couldn’t…sense…her, it’s still safe to assume she’s hurting.”

Sensingwas Wolf’s tactful way of explaining the unexplainable. The man possessed an uncanny ability—which Jake had learned not to question.

The silence stretched on until finally Wolf spoke. “How are things with you?” he casually asked.

Tread lightly. “Marnie spoke to me, opened up.” He swallowed. Hard. “You think you know—I mean, you use your imagination and you try to put yourself there, but you can’t really. Maybe because we’re men, or maybe because we’re physically strong, we can’t imagine being overpowered and held at the mercy of one sick bastard.”

“Olivia’s still having nightmares,” Wolf offered. “Every time she closes her eyes.”

“And Marnie says she’s the same way. Although the instinct was completely inappropriate, I longed to gather her in my arms and fight her demons.”

“Why inappropriate?”

“I’m here because of Olivia.”Isn’t this obvious?“Not to get involved with the woman whose help I desperately need.” No matter how badly he wanted to.

“Maybe she needs you as much as you need her.”

Here we go again. Wolf making his annoying observations when Jake could just as well do without them. “Would you make the move on Olivia?”

Wolf uttered a couple of unrepeatable oaths.

“Well, that’s how I feel about Marnie. Even if her body language didn’t screamdon’t touch me, her words are as effective. What I can’t figure out is whether I should try one last time or give up.”

“I can’t answer that.” A significant pause passed. “Olivia’s psychiatric hold is almost up, and then what’s going to happen? Even if I could find Lydia…”

Whether Marnie believed Jake should empathize with his sister, his uncharitable thoughts were coming in staccato bursts and there was no stopping them. “So we make a plan which doesn’t include Lydia.” Jake brazened it out, as if things were that simple. “We persuade Olivia to let us help her. If we have to, we go to the courts and get her certified as incapable of caring for herself.”

“You’re reaching, Jake, and you know it.” The silence stretched. “I agree about making a plan. Why don’t we both think about it, and regroup when you come back to Toronto?” He hesitated. “Give Marnie Jones one more chance.”

Whether Wolf was making a suggestion, or whether the mansensedshe might be on the verge of capitulation, Jake wasn’t sure and he wasn’t going to ask. He said simply, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Wolf yawned. “Now get some sleep.”

He disconnected before Jake could tell his friend to do the same thing.

Chapter eleven

Morningdawnedgray,overcast,and threatening to rain. Marnie's mood matched the weather—her head ached, and her body was sore everywhere. She was, however, alive—and that always counted for something. Rolling out of bed, she stripped on her way to the shower. The spray of hot water soothed, and her muscles relaxed. She’d learned through repeated experience that things were usually better in the morning.

Wiping away the steam, she finally found the courage to look in the mirror. After four years she was accustomed to seeing the black hair, and since she’d touched it up the previous week, blonde roots were nowhere to be seen. Her green eyes were the same, but different. Despite the pain, there was a spark of light in them. What had put it there? Probably Jake McGrath. Despite last night, he’d brought something intangible into her life—a sense of purpose, a sense of being needed. She examined those powerful emotions. Yeah, body language was important, but she still could talk to Olivia over the phone. Surely she couldn’t make things worse than they already were.

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