Distractions & Decisions
Sitting around making upsettingphone calls was not what Jenna needed, so Jon talked her into running a couple of distracting errands with him. It was a temporary fix, and if she still wanted him to yell at the legal assholes who’d neglected their responsibility, he was more than willing. He’d offer to drive all the way to their office and give whoever a full dressing-down in front of their entire staff, even. If it would have actually helped her.
Or not meant leaving her alone—trulyalone—overnight. That was off the fucking table.
That was also an argument he hadn’t broached yet. There was most of a day left, after all.
“I can’t believe your grandpa left you something and you had no idea all this time,” Jenna said as he pulled up in front of the unassuming storage facility.
Jon bent forward enough to study the front building through the windshield. Campbell Storage Company was set up so that the main office building effectively intercepted arrivals, and it appeared the area beyond was barricaded by an automated system. Whether the key still stuck to that index card—resting in his pocket—would grant him entrance past that barricade, or he would need some type of code, he was less sure.
He wasn’t going to worry about any of that until he knew if the key still went anywhere or not. Though, without more than a card bearing his grandfather’s sloppy signature and his own identification, Jon wasn’t overly confident.
Jenna released her seatbelt and twisted to face him. “Jon?”
He locked his jaw. Why was it that facing his own familial history seemed to be the most difficult hurdle? “You up for this?”
She scoffed. “That’s my question.” She reached out and laid a hand on his clenched fist. “I’m sorry I threw you out last night before you could read that letter. Let me make it up to you a little?”
He flipped his hand over to catch hers in a briefly squeezing grip. “You don’t have anything to make up to me, Jen.” Before he could let her pinkening cheeks and alluring blue eyes distract him, Jon finally pushed from the truck. He even managed to catch the opening swing of Jenna’s door, stepping around it and clicking his tongue at her. “When are you going to let me do that for you?”
She blinked up at him as her feet settled on asphalt. “Do what? Get the door?”
“Obviously.”
Her lips twitched. “Wow. Maybe save the chivalry for that wife you swore you’d never have, hm?”
Jon stepped closer, pressing her back against the back passenger door, and raised the hand not still holding onto the open one up to the roof as he bent down. Her eyes widened, that flush rushing back over her face, and he swore he could taste her soft gasp. He kept his words equally low but made no effort to hide anything in his tone. “Technically, I swore not to take a wife until my career in the service was over. Which it is. And I’m a lot younger and a lot healthier than I thought I’d be.” He removed his hand from the truck, unable to stop himself from brushing his knuckles over her heated cheeks. “Don’t put thoughts about marriage in my head unless that’s a conversation you’re ready to have.”
Jenna sucked in a sharp breath. “Jon.” Of course, she wasn’t.
He wasn’t surprised. She had valid reasons to never want to go down that road again. And even if she was, theoretically, open to the idea, it was entirely too soon to be a subject of serious discussion between them. He understood all of those things. Strangely, what he understood least of all was his own steadiness.
It wasn’t as if he’d ever fantasized about them growing old together. As a teen, he’d been the one to spell out their expiration date. And while he’d cared deeply for her—loved her as best as he knew how—he’d never wavered from his life goal. Only briefly had he even considered the notion. Once they’d been apart, missing her had grown easier with time. Mostly.
He’d always gravitated toward blondes, though, when he did spend time with a woman. Blue-eyed blondes, specifically. But he’d never let any of them linger, never let any of them matter.By comparison to many of the men he’d worked beside, he’d been boring. A workhorse nearly always training, studying, or actively on-mission in some way. That lifestyle hadn’t left a lot of room for thought about personal matters like the relationships so many men inevitably fell into.
He’d watched men he’d known for years become husbands, fathers, uncles, divorcees, and even widowers. He’d watched senior officers become grandfathers. He respected the majority of each of them—the honest ones who loved and worked hard for their families—but the drive within him had never shifted. Not because he didn’t want the warm support of that type of companionship, but because he had known he was giving up the possibility of it from the start. And every time he’d attended a funeral, every time he’d watched someone’s widow or confused and broken-hearted child sob in the front row, it felt like validation.
From the day he had decided to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps, Jon had chosen his career and the concept of honor and strength he pictured alongside it over any notion of personal family. A choice that had probably come easy given the example of family provided to him at the time.
Yet from the moment he’d laid eyes on Jenna again, despite all the years and separate histories that should have held them apart, something had shifted in him. Jenna wasn’t merely his ex-girlfriend, former best friend, or shouldn’t-be emotional comfort blanket. She was his. She may have been making a flippant comment in the moment, and likely it was far too soon for more than that, but Jon recognized when he’d made a decision.
His life had taken an unexpected detour, but he knew how to pivot. It wasn’t as if he’d planned to die in-service. He would always be a Marine, that was how it was, but he was no longer active. He needed a new direction. That was what he’d come to Misty Glades for in the first place, wasn’t it?
He bit back the odd laugh that bubbled low in his gut and pressed a gentle kiss to Jenna’s forehead, then forced himself to move out of her personal space. He could be patient. They had new memories to forge, new trust to build, and some old ground to make up. He’d give her as much time as she needed, and let things develop between them organically, but he knew.
Sooner or later, Jenna Hodge would be his again. Not the girl he snuck out to meet up with, but the woman he came home to.
The thought triggered an odd, panging ache in his chest.Hell. Never thought I’d even want one of those.
“Are you okay?” Jenna’s soft question drew him out of his head as the pads of her fingers landed on the back of his hand—over his chest.
He hadn’t even realized he was rubbing at his chest. Jon nearly winced. “Yeah.”
Her brow pinched. “Weird jokes, openly distracted expressions, and chest pains. None of that sounds like you enough to convince me you’re okay.” Her hand fell away as his did. “If this”—she motioned to the storage facility—“is too much, just tell me and we can do something else. Literally anything else. But don’t be so stupidly stubborn I have to call you an ambulance, or so help me, I will make sure they put you right next to your friend so he can laugh at you for it after.”
Jon grinned. “Lance will be thrilled to hear you tried using him to threaten me,” he teased. It was true. He stepped forward and hooked an arm around her shoulders, spinning her toward the building just to keep from taking a kiss he wasn’t entitled to yet. “But I’m afraid it’s all in vain, Jen. Your assessment was sixty-seven percent inaccurate. I can’t speak to my own expression.” He was, however, willing to allow that it might have been less than stoic.
