Page 95 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name

Except he wasn’t a stranger. She realized she knew him now better than she knew anybody else in her life. Which was probably the strangest thing of all.

When he settled himself against the wall again, she said, “So there’s been no one else? Since she left?”

He rested his head back, so he was looking at the ceiling. “Nope. And I figure that if I could have found somebody else, I would of by now.”

She drew her feet under her until she was sitting cross-legged. “I haven’t been able to make any kind of relationship work, either,” she said, her fingers finding their way to the ring again. “Not since Daniel.”

Ryan’s tone was skeptical. “This is the guy who got you into this whole mess?”

Her gaze fell upon the ring, triggering the familiar ache she always felt when she saw it.

“He wasn’t a bad guy,” she whispered. “He was just playing the hand he’d been dealt.”

She looked at the marshal, but he didn’t look like he believed her.

She said, “The drugs, the gang, he hated all of it. It was just a means to an end. A way to survive.” She squeezed the ring between her thumb and fingers, feeling something hot backing up behind her eyes.

It wasn’t lost on her that of all the dangerous things he’d survived in his life, she’d been the one thing he couldn’t.

The tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks.

“You still love him.”

She swallowed and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. Then she looked at him and nodded.

“And I’m guessing you ain’t found anyone else either.”

“No. When Daniel went, it was like he turned out the light behind him.” She swiped away another tear and made a face. “Actually, it’s like he burned down the whole fucking house.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find that kind of spark again with someone else. In the first few years after she’d arrived in Florida, she had gone through a phase of bringing warm bodies home every night, hoping to catch one of those mythical other fish that apparently populate the sea. Mostly she just caught STIs. Nowadays, she was more discerning in her choice of bedfellows, and definitely more particular about her sexual health. But she’d all but given up on finding anyone who could make her feel like he had. Even the mere memory of his hands on her was more thrilling than any other man’s.

She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. “I dunno why I’ve never been able to get my shit together. Get a proper job. Form mature relationships. Resume normal transmission.” She gave him a wry smile. “Honestly, I think half my problem is that I have terrible taste in men. It’s my fatal flaw. I’m like an asshole-seeking missile.”

He smiled and shook his head, like what she said both amused and annoyed him.

“It’s like I have this flashing neon sign above my head that reads ‘Fuck me, then forget me’.” She turned her head toward Ryan. “You’re a guy. Can you see it?”

He wasn’t looking above her head. His eyes were roving all over her face. They were so blue, like the color of a gas flame.

Finally, they settled on her lips. “No,” he said in a low burr.

The room trembled from the impact of another gust of wind, and she heard a metallic grinding that could only be the sound of the tin sheets parting company with the roof. Their attention snapped from each other back to the precarious situation they were in.

Ryan got to his feet, dragging her up with him.

“We need to get out of this room.”

“And go where?”

“The bathroom.”

He half-led, half-dragged her into the adjoining room, wrenching the door shut behind them. The sounds of the storm were muted in here, but the whole house still shuddered with every wind gust.

Ryan pointed at the tub. “Get in.”

She climbed in at one end. He squatted in the other. They both gripped the sides and stared at each other in the dark.

Jessica exhaled shakily.Well. That was a mood killer.