Jenna met him on the broken concrete path leading up to what he assumed was her door. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s weird, but that look hasn’t changed too much, and I guess it makes sense the Marines didn’t exactly train you out of being protective of people. But I’ve never had problems since I’ve moved here.”
He arched a brow. She wasn’t wrong in her estimation of his thought process or her base logic. “Which has been…?”
She rolled her eyes. “About four years,” she said, turning as she spoke and jingling her keys. “The cheap rent was a priority at the time. Now I just like how it affords me the ability to put more money elsewhere.”
There was more to that story. What was it she’d said the day before, about the gun in her face not being the worst thing she’d been through?
Jon scowled as he waited for her to unlock both deadbolts, then followed her inside. He made sure to relock them, as she hadn’t lingered by the door, then swept his gaze through the space.
A small foyer with two hooks on the wall above a half-sized bench for storage. Beyond the foyer was the kitchen, with dated appliances and a peninsula on the far side. There looked to be a table occupying the space on the other side of the peninsula, but no seating. Jenna had continued down the hall, which opened on the other side to a sitting room about the same size as the kitchen. A layer of cream-colored drapery obscured the windows, letting in light without allowing for views in or out, and more curtains were pulled back in waiting. A television wasmounted on the largest wall and a couple of older pieces of furniture that looked like they had come, one at a time, from thrift stores provided seating.
“I know it isn’t much,” she said as she motioned into the space. She’d already hung her purse on one of the hooks in the foyer. “But make yourself comfortable. And if you want to save your milkshake for later, I’m happy to put it in the freezer.”
Jon moved into the space, set his milkshake onto the coffee table, and stepped closer to her. He fought the urge to pull hers from her hands. “I’m trying to be reasonable here, Jen, but I need you to be honest. It’s just me right now, and I hope you know you can talk to me.”
Her brow furrowed and she gave a slow nod.
He rolled his jaw as he worked on not growling his question. “Are you okay?”
The crease in her brow deepened. “Jon—”
“I’m being serious, Jenna. Is there something wrong? Are you in trouble? Is someone threatening you?”
Her eyes widened and her grip tightened around the drink she still held. Her response was not what it needed to be. “Why?”
Fuck.“Tell me who. Tell me everything.”
Chapter six
Promise & Loss
Jenna promptly shook herhead. “Uh-uh. No. We’re not doing that.” Yet she didn’t deny that there was something to tell.
Jon drew a breath, reminding himself to maintain civil boundaries, and pulled the letter from his back pocket. He held it up, making sure it caught her eye, and said, “Whatever this is, it can wait, Jen.” He dropped the envelope next to his milkshake before meeting her stare again. “That letter is already years old. It’s not worth your safety.”
Jenna clamped her lips around the straw of her own drink, hollowed her cheeks unhelpfully on a hard drag of the cookies-and-cream concoction, then set it forcefully down on the table. “Okay, look. It’s not whatever nonsense you’re thinking. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Jon scowled.
She held up a hand, obviously reading his argument. “The bastard’s already in jail, Jon. In another state. It’s done, it’s handled, that’s that. It’s as behind me as it’s ever going to get.”
Jon locked his jaw as he processed her words. He severely disliked the implications of them. “Jail?”
Jenna sighed and dropped onto one side of the sofa. “Let’s just say I used up all my luck with guys the first time around.” She motioned to the items on the table. “Now come, sit, we’re not here for me. We’re here for you. I’d much rather talk about you.”
They had that in common. But he didn’t think she’d appreciate his meaning.
Jon obligingly grabbed the worn letter, adjusted both their drinks to be within reach, and settled himself beside her. Perhaps a bit closer than he would have were she anyone else. “Does he know you’re here?” He wanted to know the name of the guy she referred to so warmly, and whether it was what he’d done to her specifically that had landed him in jail, but Jon suspected such direct questions would have her drawing firmer boundaries.
She still frowned at him. “No.” After a beat, she added, “I made sure to only talk about wanting to move closer to my parents. I did things, said things, even told my local friends the same things, so there wouldn’t be a single trail even by word-of-mouth that I might go elsewhere. And my parents have been living the ultimate cliché retirement out in Florida for years. I’d never brought him up here or mentioned Misty Glades by name that I could recall, so when I did have the chance to leave, this placemade sense. It was small, familiar, and it’s off the beaten path. It meant giving up those local friends, but honestly, we weren’t close.”
He still had too many questions, and his share of doubts. But from the sound of it she had likely been as careful as she could. He didn’t like the implications that level of precaution presented, though. In truth, he wouldn’t like any story that sounded remotely like her having been in a bad or dangerous situation. Let alone if that story ended with the responsible party still breathing. Then again, he supposed there was a chance this one wasn’t. Locked up meant uncomfortable and at-risk. That was better than nothing.
Jon exhaled, dipped his chin in acknowledgment, and curled his arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. She made a startled noise but didn’t resist and he bent his head until his nose was buried in her thick blonde hair. “As long as that’s where the story ends, I won’t ask for more,” he said, hand clenching tight over her shoulder. “But I’m home now. Don’t hesitate to call me if that ever changes.”
She sighed and suddenly her forehead was resting on his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous, Jon Johnson.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He had actually heard that before.
