Page 59 of The Trouble with Flings

In my head, and in my heart, that translates to everything, but I want her to tell me because this is too important to assume. “Jennifer…?”

“I said nothing, Fitz. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because what we have feels like a hell of a lot more than nothing, and I know you feel it too. But every time we get close, you pull back. I’ve watched you do it since we got together on Silver Island.” My voice stays even but careful. “Tell me why you do that. I don’t think it’s because of me, and I don’t think it has a damn thing to do with the distance.”

The silence stretches so long I fear she’s done talking. Then a sharpness rises in her eyes, and she says, “I trusted someone once, completely, and I was wrong about him in the worst possible way.”

Understanding settles in my gut like a stone. My protective urges surge, but I hold them just beneath the surface, because I realize then that the fear I thought I saw was exactly that.

“I’m not him, Jennifer,” I say. “I will never knowingly hurt you.”

“You say that, but it’s not like he told me up front that he was going to turn into a control freak or go all Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde on me.”

Jesus, what did he do to you? “You’re right. You have no reason to believe otherwise, so I’ll prove it to you.”

She doesn’t respond. She just looks at our hands on her stomach, then out the window. Her shoulders drop, and I watch as exhaustion or defeat, or I hope, a feeling of trust, steals her fight, before those troubled eyes find me again.

“I’m too tired to talk about all of this right now,” she says, untucking her legs from beside her. She pushes to her feet. “You probably need to get back to the island. Feel free to go.”

As I stand, my heart aches for her, for the emotional war she’s battling.

But I won’t let her fight it alone, and her past will not win.

“I’d rather stay,” I say, giving her a chance to tell me not to.

“Okay,” she says softly, and pads down the hall. I hear a door close and assume she went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she comes out, glances at me, still standing in the living room, and that’s when I see relief wash over her. Without a word, she walks into the bedroom.

I don’t know who hurt her, but I will do whatever it takes to help her heal.

I follow her into the bedroom, which is about the size of my closet. She’s lying on her side, fully dressed, facing the window. I toe off my shoes and lie down behind her. Wrapping one arm around her middle, I whisper, “Is this okay?”

She doesn’t say a word. She just shifts closer, pressing her body into the curve of mine.

We lie in the quiet, listening to the muffled city noises. When I feel her body go soft against me, I whisper, “It’s okay to be scared, but I’m in this with you, wild girl, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her hand covers mine, resting on her stomach, and she holds it tight. It doesn’t take long before her breathing slows, and she drifts off to sleep. I close my eyes, feeling like I finally found a piece of myself that’s been missing for too long.

Chapter Sixteen

Jennifer

I wake to my phone buzzing on the nightstand. The room is dark, and I’m disoriented for a moment before registering the warmth and weight of Fitz lying behind me, his arm around my waist, his chest against my back. A surprising wave of relief moves through me. I reach for the phone and squint at the screen. Mia. I slide out from under Fitz’s arm, trying not to wake him, and answer in a whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi. You never called me back.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Fitz was here when I got home.” The mattress dips behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Fitz is sitting up, scrubbing a hand down his face, his hair disheveled, his eyes still adjusting to the dark.

He lifts his chin in question.

I mouth Mia as she exclaims, “Oh my God!” in my ear, and starts asking questions.

He nods and heads out of the bedroom, pulling the door halfway closed behind him.

“Jennifer!” Mia implores.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.”

“What did the doctor say?”