Page 11 of Fall Back
Because if I’m sad then it means the date meant a lot more than I was willing to admit to myself.
It’s not the first time a guy has been late picking me up or a date just hasn’t happened. Normally I get pissed because my time was wasted, and then I get over it because they meant nothing to me. I sure as hell was never sad.
Until tonight.
Until Jared.
Damn it. How fucking dare him.
He’s the one who asked me out. I would have happily slithered my way back into my house, burrowed into a blanket burrito before losing myself in a show marathon involving true crime, and forgotten all about the whole horrible encounter with Wintervale’s finest.
But nooo, he had to ask me out and say the right thing at the right time about wanting me and how he’d worry about the reaction of my brothers. It got my hopes up. As much as I tried to fight against it.
Then he doesn’t show.
As I stare at the ceiling from where I’ve laid myself out on the couch, there isn’t a fluffy blanket in sight. If I wrap myself up then I don’t know if I’ll crawl out of the little cocoon for days. My stomach is twisting in on itself with disappointment.
I hate this feeling because it makes me feel lost and out of control.
If I smacked Jared on the back of his head when he’s not on shift and not in uniform, would it still be illegal? He’s earned a smack, but if all I can do is yell at him and flip him off, it’ll do.
A knock on my door has me jumping and whipping my head around toward the door so fast that I tweak my neck a little bit. It’s not like my neck and back aren’t already stressed because of my job; they are. Bending over someone and tattooing for hours does not equate to back and neck health, if you know what I mean.
When I stand up, I hesitate answering the door and I know why. I want it to be Jared so fucking badly. But what if it isn’t? Or what if it is?
I make a low sound of annoyance in the back of my throat, stand up straight, and march my ass to the door just as the knocking starts again. Swinging open the door reveals Jared standing there holding a ton of grocery bags. His head comes up and there’s something in his blue eyes which causes my heart to clench and my feelings about him being late to evaporate.
Desolation.
It’s so pure and raw in his gaze. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Without thinking, I step forward, and my hands start to hover over his body like they’ll be able to scan if he’s hurt and where. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”
The breath that Jared blows out is long. “I’m sorry I’m late.” His words are strong and clear. They hit me right in the middle of my chest. “There are times when I can’t help but be latebecause of when a call comes in. I’ll always do my best to let you know what’s happening, but I was an idiot and didn’t get your number the other day. I arrogantly thought I’d be on time; that’s on me.”
All I can do is stare up at him for a moment. Did he just apologize and explain what happened without blowing smoke up my ass while still being realistic because neither of us can deny his job being important?
“I was mad,” the words slip from my lips without me really thinking about it. His shoulders slump, but I power on because he needs to know the truth. “I was mad, and I was sad because I thought you weren’t coming. I didn’t think about how you didn’t have my number or your job.” I step back, even though I want to press my body against him, and motion him inside. “That being said, I appreciate you showing up, apologizing, and not trying to push off blame or bullshitting me about it. Come in.”
He steps inside and stops right next to me. Without putting down any of his bags, he leans down and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, my little criminal,” he murmurs against my skin.
A bright laugh bursts out of me, and I shake my head as I watch him continue past me and toward my small kitchen. He sets the bags down on the counter and gets to work unloading everything. When he looks at me, the smile he shoots me is sheepish.
“I was going to pick you up and take you back to my place so I could cook, but I didn’t have time to grab everything I needed. With being late already, I decided to change up my plan,” he admits.
“You cook?”
One side of his mouth lifts in a sexy as fuck smirk. “Of course, I cook. I live on my own and need to eat. I’ll admit I started out with a lot of ramen and little things mom showed me while growing up. But then I started watching cooking videos and found some recipes.”
“It’s not all meat and potatoes covered in BBQ sauce, right?”
He chuckles, amused by the sass I give him readily. He shakes his head and vows, “There are very few times BBQ sauce even makes an appearance.”
“Okay,” I agree, my wariness more joking than real. “So, what do you have in the bags?”
“I just grabbed some things already prepared in the deli section of the grocery store. It’s all things I’ve tried before and they’re good. I hope it’s okay,” he looks at me from the corner of his eye, his tone questioning.
“Works for me,” I admit with a shrug. “I’m not picky. You can’t grow up as a Burns and be too picky. With so many mouths, Mom cooked whatever she cooked, and you either ate it or didn’t.”
