Logan
The keys jingle at the front door.
I immediately pretend to be busy.
Not that I’m not actually working, I am, but the second I hear the door open, my eyes keep drifting up from the reports spread across the kitchen table.
Jess steps inside, hanging her coat by the door.
She pauses when she notices me, then glances at the phone sitting on the counter.
“Huh,” she says. “I thought I left it at Simone’s.”
Without looking up, I mutter, “Darren dropped it off.”
“Oh.” She lets out a nervous little laugh. “Did he join the hate-Jess club?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t bother assuring her that Darren definitely does not hate her. In fact, he’s been annoyingly levelheaded about the whole thing.
Which, considering his own whorish past, isn’t exactly shocking.
Still doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.
Jess shifts awkwardly near the doorway like she’s waiting for me to say something else.
I don’t.
Awkward silence stretches until she clears her throat. “So… you’re working.”
“Yeah,” I say flatly, flipping a page.
She nods. “Okay.”
Another long pause. It’s amazing how fast a partnership can flip.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine on the report in front of me, pretending the numbers actually matter.
Finally, she says, “I, uh… went out for a bit.”
“Figured,” I reply.
“Just to get some air,” she adds.
“Great.”
Her shoulders stiffen.
“I also talked to someone,” she says carefully.
That makes me look up.
“Someone,” I repeat.
She nods. “A therapist.”
Something in my chest loosens, but I don’t let it show.
