Page 29 of Jump

For weeks, this is how we live. In silence. In solitary.

And though there are no jokes told, the way they were on the night of Nicole’s party, and no smiles shared—a tragedy, considering how beautiful hers is—there are no arguments either. No bickering over the bathroom, or passive aggression because someone used the last of the coffee.

When the bag of grounds looks low, I buy another and leave it someplace she can see. When she notices the creamer is getting close to empty, she replaces it before I can.

When Hannah comes over, which is at least every other day, she’s already accustomed to my quiet, so they leave me alone instead of demanding I take part in the social festivities.

It’s perfect, really.

Tension and unease aside, this new situation I’ve found myself in is probably the best I could have hoped for in a town I had no plans to relocate to. Not even when Ainsley and I were dating. Not even when I thought myself in love.

We never discussed me moving here, and she never mentioned coming to me. We visited each other, and enjoyed a nomadic relationship of long-distance phone calls and stolen moments when neither of us were busy risking our lives.

“So, the guys are on shift tomorrow,” Hannah chatters from the kitchen, her voice carrying in a way I can’t ignore, despite my book being open and the words in front of my eyes. “It’s a twenty-four,” she continues, “and this local band is putting on a show at the lake.”

“Mmm?” Vivian’s tone is less than interested, but she asks, “Which band?”

“Who Cares. They’re semi-retired these days, but it’s Veteran’s Day, so they’re putting on a show to raise money for charity. This isn’t the first time they’ve done it, but it’s the first time in a while that I’m going. We could dress up, Viv! Wear something a little slutty.”

Giving up on my book, I drop it to my lap and drape my arm across my face.

“I can do your hair and makeup,” Hannah suggests.

“You think I need makeup to look pretty?”

No, I think to myself. Makeup is for Ana. Fresh face and bare skin is for Viv. Both are fuckin’ beautiful, but only one is real.

“No,” Hannah answers easily. “Go however you want. I was only offering. In any case, we could each buy a six-pack of wine coolers, take a chair, park our asses at the show, and get completely buzzed on cheap alcohol. Jase is going, and he’s bringing a friend, so we could all hang out and still be home by ten. And, if we can’t walk or drive, Axel can sneak away from work and drive us. He’s done it a bunch of times before.”

Probably not information his lieutenant should hear.

Giving up on my farce of relaxation, I toss my book off my lap and push up off my bed. My feet tingle from disuse, and for a single beat of time, my head swims.

I glance down at myself, probably for the first time all day, and take stock of my ratty sweats. My bare torso. My left shoulder, scarred and ugly after saving Axel’s stupid fucking life and not dropping him on his ass from two stories up.

He was probably gonna die, so I sacrificed my shoulder and took a few third-degree burns for the fun of it. And in repayment, he kicks me out of his home with nothing more than a ‘fuck you very much.’

Turning to my closet and taking out a tank top, I slip it on—not out of respect for Hannah and Axel’s relationship, but to respect Ana’s need for modesty inside her own home. Then, running a hand across my head so my short hair bristles under my touch, I move into the hall, noisy on my feet, so the women know I’m coming.

So no one can act surprised I’m around.

“Aww, here he comes.” I can see in my mind, before I come into the room, Hannah’s dopey smile. Her teasing nature. “Did you hear about the party we’re going to, Ruiz?” She turns on her stool the second I cross the threshold and come into view. “We’d invite you, but you’re working. And since you’re the one responsible for scheduling Axel to work over the weekend, I don’t feel all that inclined to pretend I’ll miss you. So…”

“I’m just getting a drink.”

I come around to the other side of the counter, to the side Viv stands on, her gaze moving to my scarred shoulder in curiosity, but I keep my distance as she practically plasters herself to the far corner cabinet.

Opening the fridge and snagging a bottle of water, I close it again and meet her eyes.

Just for a second.

Just to say hey, if only silently.

Which is still more than we’ve shared for weeks.

Then I turn on my heels and wink for Hannah as I pass. “If you’re going to that thing tomorrow night, I’ll make sure we swing by to ensure safety standards are being upheld.”

“It’s an outdoor venue,” she argues playfully. “No occupancy laws to speak of.”

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