Page 28 of Jump

“There’s something in you, Ana,” he says instead. “Some part of you that wanted me to know.”

“Vivian,” I bite out. “My name is Vivian! And whatever we did after that party, whatever we shared, it was a once-off. We both agreed. And I was able to leave it in my past, Matt. To move on. To place you in my memories and continue living my life.”

“So… I haven’t?”

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing! I had no clue who or where you were. But it would seem you knew those things about me.”

“I—”

“You and I have both been inside Hannah’s home a thousand times since that party. At the same time. But you hid away like a coward, knowing I was downstairs.”

“I was providing you a safe space to visit your friend,” he finally snaps back, “without my presence making it weird.”

“Fat load of good that did.” I tip the bottle back and drink. “I was ambushed tonight. Hearing you talk about me, bicker about me. Matt, you knew who I was, and where I was, this whole damn time!”

“And now you know who I am,” he grits out. “Where I am. I’m still not sure why you’re angry at me.”

“Because your girlfriend is dead!” I shout. Shamefully. “Because you weren’t mean or miserable or horrible that night we had together. You were sweet, and kind, and attentive, and affectionate, and charming, and dammit, all the things that fantasies are made of. You were perfect, Matt! And now you’re not.”

“Because my girlfriend is dead?” His eyes burn with anger I’ve never before seen. “You’re mad at me because I’m grieving the loss of someone special?”

“I’m angry because my fantasies have been shattered. And because I went to Ainsley’s funeral, and I had no clue that eventually, I would sleep with her boyfriend.”

His gaze simmers as anger makes way for something else. Something more painful.

“I cried for you,” I continue, my voice breaking as emotion clogs my throat. “And I didn’t even know you. I mourned her, and I barely even knew her. You’ve already said it, Matt; this is a small town. Which means whatever we had, it was possible only because we chose anonymity. But that’s gone now. So instead of the butterflies I’ve grown accustomed to feeling when I think of you, now I feel sick.”

“Sick?”

“Because you’re hers! Because I stole something I was never supposed to have. Because I gave my heart to Jump for a night. My entire freakin’ heart! I don’t even know what that’s called—to fall in love for an evening. It’s not actual love. Not the kind someone could panic about. But it was as close as a person could get to the real thing, knowing it was temporary. We had that, Matt. You allowed me to have it. It was magical. And then you disappeared so that memory remained intact and the magic would always be mine to hold on to.”

“And now it’s gone?” He steps forward, but leaves an easy six feet between us. “I ruined it? Because Ainsley Cootes died and I was once her boyfriend.”

“The magic is gone,” I breathe. My hand shakes so the wine bottle trembles and the liquid inside sloshes. “You being here, existing, stole the magic I’ve bathed in for the last several months. And really, that’s not even your fault. You’re allowed to exist. But man,” I set the bottle down and sigh. “I’m disappointed. That’s all.”

Exhaling, rearranging my priorities when my words finally register in my brain, I bring my eyes up and meet his. “I’m sorry I took this out on you. You’re an innocent bystander in my fantasies, and to think I could punish you for that is toxic and horrible. That’s on me. Welcome to your new home.” I gesture listlessly toward the doorway he came through. “Let’s just cohabitate in peace. Home is a safe space. Let’s make sure this home stays safe.”

“Yeah.” Stalking forward, he reaches out, and though I kind of expect him to grab my arm, his large hand swallows up the wine bottle instead. “You’re not the first woman to be disappointed by me, Ana. You probably won’t be the last.”

He turns on his heels and snatches up the strap of his duffel bag. “I’ll make sure you have my rent by the first of the month. Call Hannibal and tell him the room is taken. Call Diesel and whatshisface, too. I don’t wanna see them around here.”

Ruiz

SHOVE IT UP YOUR A%#

Maybe my friends are right when they describe me as a ghoul. I pass through the night. I live in silence. When I’m not at the firehouse, I’m at my new home, making a sandwich and eating in my room.

When I shower, I do it quickly.

When I shave, I clean up the discarded hair and leave no trace that I was in the bathroom.

When I need to do laundry, I make my way to the shared units in the middle of the night, and take a book so I can stay busy for the two hours it takes to wash and dry a load. I sit on the cold concrete floor and lean my back against the doorframe, and while my clothes tumble, I read my favorite novelist’s newest spy thriller.

I pick apart the clues the author left for me to find, and I try to solve a murder.

While Vivian wanders the halls at eleven at night, unable to sleep for whatever reason, and dressed in oversized sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, I lie on my bed, my ankles crossed, and keep my nose buried in my book.

I don’t strike up a conversation, and neither does she.

---