Page 37 of Jett in Jeopardy

I grinned. “I think so, but you may have to teach me that lesson again.”

He chuckled, his breath whispering across the back of my neck. The heat from his chest warmed my back and the weight of his arm over my waist felt good.

When all thisdidcome to an end, when I finally went back to my own house, my own life, I would missthismost of all.

The rest of the weekend passed at record speed, and when my alarm woke me on Monday morning, Brody was already up and making breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee teased my nose, luring me from the warm cocoon I wrapped myself in. Once up, I pulled on a pair of clad flannel pajama pants and followed the smell of coffee out into the kitchen.

Through the wide windows, the world outside had been turned white overnight.

“Oh my God, it snowed,” I said, practically pressing my face to the window like a little kid who’d never seen snow before. The light dusting that covered the patio, wood table and chairs was barely anything compared to the snow I’d grown up with in Colorado. Still, I’d always liked winter even if I wasn’t sure why. Something about the coziness, I guessed.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. It’ll be melted before the end of the day,” Brody said.

“It’s less than two weeks before Christmas. Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas. We should put up a tree.” I never cared much for the holidays before I moved to The Square. For the last two years, me, Alistair and Grier had spent Christmas together. They were the best holidays I could remember since my mother died.

I glanced back at Brody, who had gone quiet. He stood frozen, staring at a carton of eggs he’d set on the counter, as if someone had pulled a plug and drained the life right out of him.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I took a step towards him, and he snapped back to life, practically jumping away from me, hurrying to the door and giving me a wide berth while he did.

“I have to go… I forgot… Daniel…” he stuttered, shoving his feet into his shoes. He rushed outside, not even bothering to grab his coat, and left me staring dumbly after him.

Chapter Fifteen

Brody

Inmyrushtoget the hell out of that apartment, I nearly fell down the stairs. The rubber soles of my sneakers slipped on the metal treads of the steps. They were slick with a thin layer of wet snow. It sent me sliding down the steps. Luckily, my hands shot out, gripping the thin rail, and stopped the slide before I landed flat on my ass. I held on to the metal railing, freezing against my palm, and squeezed my eyes closed while I struggled to drag air into my collapsing lungs.

I sunk down onto the step behind me, wet snow soaking the ass of my jeans. Despite the low-hanging gray clouds, the temperature had gone up since last night and, no doubt, the snow would be gone in a few hours. If we’d slept a little longer, we would never have seen it. Jett wouldn’t have brought up Christmas and I wouldn’t be here huddled at the bottom of the stairs, struggling to breathe.

It was him mentioning Christmas that had sent me over the edge. Ryan loved Christmas. Until I met him, I’d never really cared. Being in and out of foster homes with no with no real family of my own, the holidays I had stopped meaning anything to me long ago. Until Ryan.

He’d decorate our small apartment until it looked like a tinsel factory exploded inside. And he loved to watch all those corny specials and movies, making me watch them too. With him gone, I couldn’t do it alone, not anymore. There just didn’t seem to be a point. It hurt too fucking much.

I stayed where I was at the bottom of the stairs, focusing on evening out my shallow breathing and slowing the rapid pounding of my heart, all while trying to push the image of Jett’s wounded expression as I hurried past him out of my head.

Shit, what the hell was wrong with me? But I already knew the answer. I’d been on edge since Jett moved in. So many times, I felt my breath lodge in my suddenly too tight throat, my chest constrict, cold sweat slicking my skin for no apparent reason. Except for a few fleeting moments over the past two weeks, I’d felt happy for the first time in six years.

Not that I’ve been miserable for all of the last six years. The first few years after Ryan had died had been rough. I felt hollowed out inside, like someone had scraped out the stringy seeds of a pumpkin, leaving me empty. As time passed, I found my groove focusing on work and coming to a new existence. Life was okay, survivable again. Maybe a little mundane, but there were worse things.

Then Jett shoved his way into my life, turning my routine upside down and making my life anything but mundane. He was like the sun beaming across the landscape after days or weeks of cloudy skies. Having him in my space like this should have gotten on my nerves by now—his endless chatter, a clutter of clothes, books and crap that seem to follow him from room to room, his lack of appreciation for the originalStar Warstrilogy. Instead, I found myself enjoying the way he expressed every thought that popped into his head. His things in my home brought a sense of life I’d forgotten and watching him covertly scrolling Instagram while we’d watchedA New Hopehad been more amusing than annoying, especially when he assured me hereallywas enjoying the movie when I offered to put on something else. Then the guilt would hit like a sucker punch to the gut, forcing air from my lungs, followed by shame. How could I have brought another man into the home Ryan and I had shared? How could I enjoy having him here after losing the only man I had ever loved?

I pushed myself up off the step and made my way through the parking lot and down the small alleyway between my bar and the retail store next door. Uncertainty in where I was going or what I was doing lingered with each passing step. I had no plan when I’d rushed out of the apartment except to get out of the place where the walls were closing in and the air was becoming too hot to breathe.

I wasn’t ready to go back and face Jett, try to explain what the hell I had just done. Maybe a run would do me some good, but I wasn’t dressed for it. I thought about going to the hotel and talking to Daniel, but I definitely wasn’t ready to talk to Ryan’s best friend about Jett and whatever the hell I was feeling for him.

Feelingfor him? I wasn’tfeelinganything for him. He was a good guy, hot as fuck, but that was all Ifeltfor him. Yet, even as I tried to convince myself, I knew it wasn’t true. Despite my better judgment, I liked him, his surprisingly dry sense of humor, his equally surprising consideration and thoughtfulness, and he was just fun to be around.

“Fuck.” I said, on a sigh, scrubbing both hands down my face. I needed to call this off with Jett before I dug myself any deeper. Packing him up and sending him home would have been the smart thing to do. But I hated the idea of him alone and vulnerable with someone out there trying to kill him, and selfishly, I wanted him close so I could assure myself he was safe.

Almost as if on autopilot, I found myself at the beach, hard wet sand clinging to my sneakers with each step I took. The wind swept cold and damp off the waves, crashing against the shore in a relentless hush. Even in the cold, the seagulls squawked and swooped over the roiling gray waves.

I always came to this part of the beach as if magnetically drawn here. It was the place I felt closest to Ryan since he passed, even more so than our apartment or the bar.

I sighed. I’d have to go back eventually and talk to Jett and figure out a plan. We couldn’t go on like this.Icouldn’t go on like this.

And I couldn’t stay out here much longer dressed the way I was. I didn’t even have a coat.

Turning away from the water, I started back to The Dunes, and by the time I’d mounted the metal steps to my apartment, I knew what I would say, what I would do to ensure he was here where I could keep him safe but also keep him at arm’s length.

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