Page 38 of Jolene's Justice

“I’m the chief of police.”

“Get out,” Jolene hissed, her voice laced with surprise.

“Yup. So, wanna fill me in on what happened here?”

They spent the next few minutes recounting the events. Jolene insisted he be seen by the EMTs while they talked. As he suspected, it was just a small cut. It didn’t require stitches. The headache was a killer, though, and he’d be happy to be away from all the flashing lights.

Grady seemed like a decent cop. He took their statements, listening attentively as they relayed the story. He sent his officers down to the wrecked SUV to take pictures and samples of the paint the truck left behind each time it hit them.

The chief even went so far as to give them a lift back to Jolene’s father’s place, promising them he’d keep them informed of his progress in the case.

Finch could tell Jolene was close to a crash, the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders. He sent her up to bed while he double-checked all the locks. The fact that someone had so callously run them off the road, then disappeared, worried him. He was glad he’d already gotten the security cameras and lights up the other day. Nobody was getting into this house, yet he still checked the camera feeds on his phone to make sure everything was functioning as it should. Jolene’s safety was not something he was willing to compromise on.

He climbed the stairs in the dark, his hand brushing against the rough wall to guide him. His body felt as old and creaky as the wooden steps beneath his feet. When he approached Jolene’s door, her light was still on and the door was slightly ajar. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the doorframe, and she looked up from her position sitting up in bed. She resembled every dream he’d ever had about her in bed. The vibrant red locks of her hair fell gently over her shoulders. Her skin was dewy and radiant after she’d scrubbed the makeup off. His heart leaped at the sight of her beauty, causing his already dizzy head to spin even more.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Not particularly.”

“What can I do?”

She hesitated, playing with the edge of her blanket between her fingers. “Can you . . . I-I don’t want to be alone.” The raw intensity of her fearful expression tore at his heart.

“I can sleep on the floor in here with you if you want,” he offered.

“No. Yes. I mean, not on the floor.” She turned back the corner of her blankets and scooted over to make room.

“Are you sure?” He longed to slip into the warm embrace of the bed beside her and hold her all night long, but his doubts made him hesitate.

She patted the empty spot next to her. “Please.”

His gut tightened at the vulnerability in her tone. The weariness in her voice made him ache. She was a strong, confident woman. But the last few weeks had taken their toll on her. If he could ease her mind for even one night, he’d do whatever it took.

As he stepped into Jolene’s room, the warmth of the space enveloped him. The gentle light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow on her tired features. He toed off his boots, then reached for his belt, but paused.

“Is it okay if I sleep in my boxers?” It was how he usually slept, boxers and nothing else. But if it made her uncomfortable, he’d keep his pants on.

“It’s fine.” She watched him strip down, as if unable to tear her gaze away. She sucked in a breath when he took his shirt off and folded it precisely. Looking down, he could see the line of bruises from the seat belt already beginning to form. “They look as bad as mine.”

A knot in his stomach twisted at the idea of her being hurt. “I’m sorry.” He carefully folded the rest of his discarded clothes and placed them neatly on the corner of her dresser.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We’re both fine. That’s all that matters. Bruises will heal.”

Nodding and feeling more nervous than the situation called for, he approached the bed. She slid down and settled her head on the pillows as he climbed in beside her. Once he was situated, she reached over and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

In the silence, the sound of their breaths was excessively loud. They lay next to each other, not touching. He didn’t want to assume she’d want him to touch her, but the need to pull her into his arms was nearly overwhelming.

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness, he discerned the subtle details of her room. The soft rustling of the curtains against the open window, the faint fragrance of lavender emanating from her bed linen, and the coolness of the air against his skin all added to the sensory experience. He noticed the dainty trinkets adorning her dresser, the photos of her friends and loved ones shoved into the corners of her mirror, and the stack of cooking books on the edge of her desk. Despite the dark, the room felt welcoming and comforting, as if it held secrets and stories of the girl who resided here years ago, just waiting to be shared.

He yearned to uncover all those secrets and stories.

With a loud sigh, she growled, “This is ridiculous.” She rolled toward him, lifting his arm until she was positioned under it with her head on his chest. “Just hold me, Finch. Please.”

He let his arm settle around her, his hand resting on her hip. Her hand lay on his stomach, and he covered it with his own, stroking the soft skin of her wrist with his thumb. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You never have to beg me for anything.”

He lay still, counting the seconds between each breath, until her breathing finally evened out in a steady rhythm. As she rested in his arms, he felt the weight of her body against his chest and was overwhelmed with gratitude. Her body was warm and soft against his, and a sense of contentment washed over him as he found his own sleep.

Chapter 16

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