Page 35 of 2nd Strike
Still, I want to wrap him in a hug. His world, quite literally, has been ripped away from him.
“Excuse me?”
“My mom. Lily. She didn’t mean to create problems for me. She just…you know…doesn’t know what to do.”
Lacking any sort of a decent answer, I turn forward again. Arguing with a teenager never amounts to anything. Plus, given the situation, I’m not about to tell Ethan his mother is a self-centered witch.
The remainder of the ride continues in awkward silence and I’m grateful when Matt pulls into his usual spot in our back parking lot.
My mood perks up when I spot an ancient Toyota in remarkably good shape beside my van.
I slide out and hold the seat for Ethan while keeping an eye on Jerome in the driver’s side of his car. What he’s doing here, I have no idea. It’s not that he hasn’t visited before. He just usually calls or texts first. He’s broken routine.
Once Ethan is out, I tell them to head inside and I’ll meet them.
Matt eyeballs me, then the Toyota. “Jerome?”
“Yes. I don’t want to bring him inside with Ethan here.”
“Don’t stay out here long. Reporters are like cockroaches.”
“I’ll be fine. Go on.”
Jerome’s door pops open and he eases his long legs out with that laid-back quality I’ve grown to love. He’s wearing his typical garb of torn jeans and a graphic T-shirt with psychedelic swirls and a peace sign. His hair falls around his face in a messy array of waves and he shoves his hand through it as he walks toward me.
I love that hair. On rainy days it curls at the ends giving him a shaggy look that makes my heart thump.
What am I doing?
I really have no idea. I want him. I don’t want him. The truth is, I’m chicken.
We both know it.
I smile as I approach and open my arms, offering a hug that is not customary for us, but isn’t exactly foreign either. We’ve done it before. Many times. It usually ends with one of us backing away and staring at the ceiling. Hello, awkward.
Today, I hang on. The last few weeks have done me in. First, the crazed serial killer and now a lost teenager. How much emotion is one empath supposed to take?
Jerome’s arms tighten around me and I squeeze my eyes shut. My body folds into his much taller one as I take every ounce of affection he’s willing to give. I’ve never been one to need a man, but it’d be nice to have an outlet at times. Someplace other than a river to seek refuge.
Now, standing in the parking lot, wrapped in Jerome’s arms, I understand how Charlie feels about JJ.
And that scares the crap out of me.
“Hi,” he finally whispers.
His breath is warm on my ear, sending a little zing right to my toes.
“Hi.”
I ease away and stare into the hazel eyes I’ve painted hundreds of times. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you.”
“Usually you call.”
He shrugs. “I know. Uh, we have an audience.”
I turn and spot Matt standing in the doorway, his protective gaze on Jerome. They’ve met before, but I think Matt suspects Jerome is my supplier and as a former cop, I’m not sure he knows how to deal with that.
