But…could it behers?
She thought of Rome’s arms, and her stomach tumbled.
They looked around the common room. It wasn’t cold exactly. It was just…a man’s space.
Sofa, TV, place to put your feet up. Everything else was clutter, so that was where they started.
They worked without much talking for a few minutes.
They moved the lamp. They draped a blanket over a chair and shifted a few books on the coffee table until they looked intentional instead of left behind when the team rushed out on an op.
Small things, but it no longer looked abandoned, and that seemed to make a world of difference, both to the space and Stina’s outlook on being here.
Jolie straightened the blanket. “Better.”
Stina leaned against the arm of the sofa. “It’s weird how much better.”
“That’s because we made it ours too.”
Stina’s throat tightened.
“You’re thinking about him,” Jolie said.
Stina snapped her gaze back. “Who?”
Jolie gave her a look.
“Don’t say it.”
“Rome.”
“I was only telling him off in my head for leaving at an important point in our last conversation.”
“Uh-huh.” Jolie folded her arms and eyed her. “I bet you were thinking about his chest.”
Stina picked up one of the pillows and fluffed it even though it didn’t need it. “I definitely wasnotthinking about his chest.”
“Then it was his ass.”
She threw the pillow at her friend. Jolie caught it and set it on the sofa again.
Stina let out a sigh. “In Chicago, I had a life. Here, I’m just the woman people are trying to kill.”
“Oh, Stina. You’re still you.”
“Am I?” The question came out smaller than she wanted. “I can’t work. I can’t leave. I can’t fix anything. I don’t know how to live in limbo, Jolie.”
“You don’t have to know everything all at once.”
Stina gave a soft laugh. “That sounds like one of your psychology discussion posts.”
“It’s not. It’s best friend advice.”
That was worse.
Better.
Both.
