Jessica chuckled, the trail of her lone tear washed away by an uncontrollable flood of many more. She missed Claire. Every. Single. Day. “You want to know what was so ironic? When the police told Claire’s parents, they visibly relaxed with relief that she hadn’t been raped. She bled out of her femoral artery in just under two minutes, yet her parents were relieved that she died a virgin. How fucked-up is that?” She sniffled. “I know what you’re thinking: not nearly as fucked-up as me.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Could he possibly know that she never let anyone see this vulnerability?
Without warning, the door disappeared. Jessica stumbled to the ground, quick hands saving her from a face-plant by less than an inch. Those same quick hands pulled her to her feet.
Luke sighed and waited for her amber eyes to find his through her long wet lashes. “When I’m the most overeducated barista at Starbucks you’d better come in every day to remind me why I trashed my career. And since you’ll be the most psychologically stable actuary in the history of the profession, you’d better leave me one helluva tip.”
Jessica nodded while wiping her tears. Relief mingled between her laughter and sobs. “I’m sorry I bit you. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” Luke framed her petite face in his strong hands. “Because if it does I’ll have you muzzled, put in a straitjacket, and committed to a mental institute. Are we clear?”
She swallowed with a slow nod. “Dr. Jo—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not your doctor. You will see me here three times a week, no more no less. You will clean my apartment and tell me about your past. I will listen and offer friendly advice. There will never be an exchange of money. You will never come to my office again. You will never tell anyone. As far as Gabe and Kelly are concerned, we just didn’t have that much in common. Are. We. Clear?”
“Can I call you Jones … just Jones. I like it.”
“No.”
Jessica sighed. “You’re no fun.” She pulled from his grasp and opened the door.
“Jessica?”
“Yes?” She turned.
“That’s another thing this will not be.”
“Huh?”
“Fun.”
Chapter Thirteen
Knight
Jillian finished installing the handicap bar minutes after ending her story for the day.
“Hey, look at that!” Dodge stood in the doorway admiring Jillian’s handy work.
“I think she’ll be able to use the bathroom by herself now.”
“Thank God for that. There’s nothing worse than pulling her ass off the toilet after she’s shot out one of them toxic loads. I think them meds are messing with her plumbing. I sure as shit won’t miss breaking that seal.”
Jillian looked at Lilith who was smiling at her without regard for Dodge’s crude and cruel comment. “Your husband doesn’t think his shit stinks. Typical guy.” Jillian winked at Dodge.
“Come here. I want to show you something before you go.” Dodge waved Jillian toward the back door.
“Bye, Lilith.” Jillian helped her up from the vanity chair.
“Thank you,” Lilith said, and it was the first time Jillian heard her speak.
“You’re welcome.” Jillian gave her hand a little squeeze.
As soon as she opened the garage door, Jillian froze—speechless.
“Just got the new rims on today. What do you think?” Dodge sat in a golf cart that occupied its own garage stall. But it wasn’t just any golf cart. It was red with a white top, red and white painted rims, custom white leather seats with a red N stitched into the back of them. The rest of the body looked like the Cornhusker apparel store exploded onto it—decals, a flag, and a built-in Cornhusker cooler on the back.
“Wow, it’s … wow. I didn’t know you golfed.”
“Oh, I don’t.”
Jillian raised her eyebrows. “Um, okay so what’s with the golf cart?”
“I’m a Cornhusker fan.”
She laughed. “I can see that.”
“My knees have gone to shit so I use her to get around the development. Mainly to get the mail and stuff like that.”
Jillian peeked around the garage door opening to the grouping of mailboxes. “Yeah, that has to be a good fifteen … twenty yard walk.”
“Nineteen and a half to be exact. Stan measured it for me awhile back. We were just curious.”
“And you pack a cooler to get the mail?”
Dodge grinned. “Nah. I sit out here with Stan and shoot the breeze or watch the games.” He gestured to the TV in the corner of the garage. “Sometimes I take a cold one down to Stan when he’s working outside—hand trimming his lawn or sweeping the street with his big push broom.”
Jillian smiled. She didn’t just relocate to Nebraska, she landed on an entirely different planet called Peaceful Woods, which ironically had no woods at all, rather small algae-infested ponds behind each grouping of townhomes.
“Well, I’m going to head home now.”
“Want a ride?”
“No … I’m good.” She winked at Dodge who had retrieved a beer from his cooler.