“I know.”
“I can find someone from that blind runners’ group where Anker met Sonora.”
“No,” he almost growls.
I tip my head up, meeting his hidden gaze with my steely one. “Why? We’re not friends. Not really. Hell, sometimes I don’t even think you like me. Training me would be torture for you.”
“I like you.”
“Sure.” I puff out a breath that resembles helicopter blades cutting through the sky.
“What makes you think I don’t like you?”
“Besides the five years of whiplash from your nice one moment total dick the next moment behavior, you called me a yappy yorkie.”
It’s official, Feisty Jensen is out to play. In the push and pull of whatever this is with Garrett, I’ve never called it out like this. I’ve certainly never shared with him the remarks I overheard him say after our first meeting.
“I never called you a yappy yorkie.”
“Yes, you did.” I poke his chest. “At Anker’s birthday five years ago, just after I met you.”
For weeks, Anker had gone on about the Attending Physician at the hospital, who’d spend his lunch breaks going over patients’ charts. I was so excited to meet the man who was helping Anker navigate his residency program.
“Fuck… I did say that. I’m sorry.” He grips the brim of his hat. “Yorkies are adorable, though.”
“They have old man faces,” I say, indignation burns in my belly. “Also, now isn’t the time to be cute. That hurt my feelings, Garrett.”
“I’m sorry, Jensen.” He places his hands on my shoulders. “This isn’t an excuse, I swear. What I said was wrong, and I didn’t mean it. I was just…” He sighs. “That was the first night I socialized with anyone since moving here. Hell, since Val had died the previous November. Nobody knew about her, not even Anker at the time. I thought it had been long enough?—”
“Oh god, did I accidentally say something that triggered you?” My hand goes to my mouth, replaying that night.
“No. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.”
“What?” My breath hitches.
His fingers knead into me through the sweatshirt’s thin fabric. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t thinking about how shitty I felt. I wasn’t thinking about Val. The only thing I could think about is you.”
“Me?” My pulse thuds.
“You just burst into the room all bubbly spewing random facts about Chicago including that the brownie was invented there. All I could think about is how?—”
“Annoying I am.” My mouth tugs up.
“Yeah.” A soft chuckle falls from him. “And how much you’d love the Palmer House’s brownie sundae. Then, I felt guilty. Like I was somehow betraying Val.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, though,” I say, my brow scrunched.
“I’m here and she’s not.”
The ache in his voice guts me. I just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him it’s alright. That he did nothing wrong. But my arms have no ability to heal his pain, and holding him close is like placing my hand on the hot stove. At some point, I’ll get burned.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a shit friend to you,” he rasps.
“Are we friends?” I say softly.
“I want to be… I want to be your friend, Jensen.” Releasing me, he straightens. “I don’t deserve it, but I want a second chance with you. To be what you deserve.”
The wise thing is to say no. To send him on his way and find a different guide to train with until my brother recovers. Isn’t that what Feisty Jensen would do? The Feisty Jensen that he gets glimpses of. If I were that Jensen, I would have said these things to him a long time ago. I would have done a lot of things a long time ago.
