One lesson learned the hard way which Jon suspected he would come to be grateful for sooner rather than later, because he was not about to forget the danger that had shredded Lance’s leg and threatened Jenna’s life. But that danger didn’t seem to have stalked him to the cemetery.
He exhaled slowly as he pulled himself back in like a reversing tide. That sensation remained, still persistent, but he couldn’t place it. The last time he’d failed to place a sensation that struck him so insistently he’d found himself blown off a cliff. That was not the kind of life experience a man wanted to repeat.
Time to wrap this up.
He shifted his focus to the newest grave, because he couldn’t leave without acknowledging her. It would be wrong, and if he was in fact being watched, it would be suspicious. “Mom.” But what was he even supposed to say? This wasn’t how he’d wanted her to escape George. Nor did she have to be dead for him to forgive her for never writing. He frowned, frustrated. “I wish you had some way of telling me what the hell happened, but … I’m sorry, for not saving you from him.”
He offered the trio of sites one more sharp salute. “Rest in peace, Gran. Grandpa. Mom.” Then he turned, deciding he’d read the letter in his truck where he could sit without worrying about his uniform.
Or prying eyes.
By the time her grumbling stomach dragged Jenna out for lunch, she’d already made too many phone calls, scoured paperworkthat made as much sense as if it were written in Greek, taken a fitful nap, and formally lost at least one employee. She had rapidly building concerns about a second, seeing as how Steph hadn’t even looked at the text thread yet. It was really shaping up to be a wonderful week.
The impatient woman she’d finally spoken to at the insurance office had essentially informed her that they could make no solid promises until the official police report was filedandtheir own investigator was allowed to examine the scene. The latter being necessary to determine the estimated cost of getting everything up and running again. It was corporate bullshit as far as Jenna was concerned, but her hands were tied.
She’d gotten about as much help from the sheriff’s office when she’d called them. That woman could barely offer the time of day, only repeatedly asserted that the bakery was a crime scene and as such belonged to authorities until further notice. They took no accountability for their lackluster response, delayed handling, or the fact that their officers hadn’t even made an effort to defend her property or her employees from the damned shooters. The woman had practically said everything was Jenna’s fault—without using those precise words.
So, when she finally succumbed to her hunger, Jenna decided what she really needed was comfort food. The kind she wasn’t equipped to provide herself.
She was also horrendously tempted to reach out to Jon. He’d given her his number before hopping in the ambulance with Lance. She was just uncertain. What did she even say?Hey, hope your friend didn’t lose his leg.No, that was a terrible opener, even if it was actually a true sentiment.
She ran through more potential options as she drove herself into the heart of town, deliberately keeping her back to the devastating sight of her little bakery. Nothing felt right. What did a woman say to her high school sweetheart after so muchtime apart? She’d never thought she’d see him again. Hell, she’d believed the story she’d heard of his unfortunate, tragic fate in the Middle East. Why wouldn’t she have? She’d grieved him, done her best to make her peace with a loss she’d already in some ways endured, and moved forward. Only for the man to reappear like a damn superhero right in front of her.
Jenna let out a little laugh and slumped back in her seat, her mind focusing as she found herself parked in front of LeeLee’s Diner. It was a town staple, one of the oldest establishments still functioning. She dug her phone from her purse and pulled up her newest contact, whom she’d listed simply as Jon.
There was no other Jon in her life to confuse him with, and if there were, the confusion would run the other way, anyway.
She let her thumbs move before she could overthink again, checked the words for obvious misspellings, and hit send.
If you’re still interested in catching up, I could use a friendly face. No pressure. Just pulled up to LeeLee’s, or we can talk later. Hope your friend is doing okay.
It was dumb. It was probably too much. It was definitely too presumptive. Why did her text app not allow for message deletion once the damn thing was sent?
She closed out of that thread and opened the group one she’d started that morning on some self-sabotaging reflex. There were all the messages of concern, sympathies, understanding, and apologetic-bowing-out that she remembered. And still no sign that Steph had even read the initial message, let alone the entire conversation. Jenna didn’t know the girl’s social calendar, but she did know Steph was generally responsible. Enough time had passed that she surely could have read a text.
Compelled by guilt and a spark of concern, Jenna navigated to their one-on-one conversation and fired off another. Just in case it made a difference.
Have you seen my message? Just checking in.
She sighed and lowered the phone then.Am I stalling?Probably. Her bakery was taped off with ugly, unmistakable police tape. The moment she walked into the diner she was likely to be inundated with questions from anyone who’d driven down the main road or spoken to someone who had. Maybe she hadn’t thought the whole ‘going out’ thing through.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message and Jenna jerked upright. For a split-second, she expected—maybe even hoped—to see Steph’s name on the screen. Her brain took a few more seconds to process Jon’s name before she finally moved to actually read his response. And she tried not to think too hard about the mere notion that he had.
LeeLee’s sounds way better than the gas station cuisine I was about to pick up. I’ll be there in five.
Chapter five
Friends Again
The diner smelled likedeep-fried guilt and over brewed coffee, and apparently that was precisely what she wanted because her stomach rumbled before the door swung shut behind her. Maybe she’d order a second meal to-go and just call it a whole damn cheat day.
“Hey, Jenna,” the hostess greeted with a familiar smile. She was the daughter-in-law of the couple who’d bought LeeLee’s adecade or so prior, and generally worked up front because she was good with people. “Want a seat at the bar today?”
That was precisely the choice Jenna would have made if Jon had declined, or ignored her message outright. But he hadn’t, and she would much prefer to be seated and already past whatever scene her arrival was bound to make before he arrived. So, she opened her mouth. “Actually—”
“Oh, Jenna!” Mrs. Bell pivoted sharply on her feet, her voice nowhere near modulated enough, and she swallowed Jenna in a hug without any preamble. “I was just devastated when I drove by the bakery this morning, dear,” she said as she stepped back, keeping hold of Jenna’s hands. “Whatever could have happened? Is the business going to be all right? I couldn’t see any signs or anything.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” a man at a nearby table called, not bothering to get up as he twisted in his seat. “You gonna be open for business by the weekend? It’s my niece’s birthday and she’s been begging for those strawberry cupcakes you make.”
