Page 80 of Girl Between
Her quest for answers had cost her everything.
Friends.
Family.
Maybe things she hadn’t even begun to realize.
Yet here she was. At the same crossroad.
Deciding whether to follow her heart or her head.
Have I learned nothing?
She and Jake had come such a long way since that first case. They’d been through hell and back in the past few years, but somehow it was as if they were still in the same place. Stuck in a stalemate. Fighting for the same thing, but never on the same page.
There had to be common ground between them. She didn’t want to believe two people could save and be saved by each other as many times as they had and not find some semblance of peace.
“Thanks for calling the bureau,” she said, offering an olive branch. “I know you and the new director aren’t on the best of terms.”
Jake shrugged. “Figured I’d have to call him back at some point.”
“Call him back? As in you’ve been ignoring him?”
Jake shrugged.
“That sounds ominous.”
“He’s just more hands-on than Jenks. Likes to keep us on a short leash.”
“Jake, if you have to go back to D.C. I’m sure the bureau will send an adequate replacement.”
The moment it took Jake to school his features was all Dana needed to see how deep her comment had cut him.
Why did I say that?
She knew it was a lie the moment it left her mouth. No one was better than Jake. Because no one cared the way he did.
She may appreciate George’s easy-goingness, but in truth, she preferred Jake’s always-on-the-job focus. That’s how she operated. It was hard to find people who understood that. Hence the fact that she’d always worked alone.
Until Jake.
And Claire.
She shoved the unbidden thought away, hating that she was still struggling with the repercussions of the Reaper case. She hated even more that Jake might be right. Going back to D.C. to face her demons was the only way to truly vanquish them.
75
Jake heldhis hand out expectantly for the keys.
“You’re not driving the Rover,” Dana said, her jaw set like a petulant child.
“Why not?” Jake argued.
“Because, I said so.”
He scoffed. “That’s a great argument. Remind me how many PhDs you have again?”
“It’s my car. I don’t need an argument,” she protested, delicate nostrils flaring.
