Page 8

SEVEN

Wednesday morning, Jesslyn woke, then lay in her bed and suppressed a groan. What had compelled her to spill all that to Nathan last night? The desire for someone to believe her about the man in her room? Why? She wasn’t sure she even believed he was real. But if he was ... did that mean she’d seen the face of her family’s killer?

It wouldn’t matter. He’d been just a shadow. She had no features to describe. Not even his height. From her child’s point of view, he’d been a giant. In reality? Who knew?

She shifted and groaned.

Man, she was hot. She kicked the covers off and sat up, pressing a hand to her head. It ached and her nose was stuffed up. “No. No, no, no. I don’t have time to be sick.”

She hurried to the bathroom, filled her cup with water, and carried it back to bed.

The knock on the bedroom door echoed through her aching head. She wasn’t even surprised she knew exactly who was on the other side of that door. She groaned. “I’m coming.” Nathan. She had no doubt he’d stayed the night to keep an eye on her.

She padded to the door and pulled it open. Yep. Nathan. He stood there, still in her father’s sweats, yet somehow looking like he stepped off the pages of a magazine.

While she—

Don’t go there . “You stayed the night.”

“I hope you don’t mind. You kind of passed out last night and I was ... worried. Didn’t want to leave you alone in case you needed anything.”

“Or someone decided to come finish what they started at the church?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Jesslyn shoved her hair up into a ponytail, then planted her hands on her hips. Then coughed and sniffed. “Ugh.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re sick.”

“You think?” She stomped to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper, pulled off a wad, and blew her nose. “I really don’t have time for this.”

When she stopped back in front of him, he pressed a hand to her forehead. “Maybe not, but you’ve got a fever.”

“I know that, thank you very much.”

“You’re going to be a cranky patient, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re not?”

“No, because I’m not going to be a patient. I’ve got a to-do list a mile long and—”

“So, you’re going to go spread your germs to everyone in your path?”

She stopped. And groaned. Whirled back to her bed and dropped onto it. And coughed. “No.”

“I’ll call Lainie and she’ll bring you whatever you need to get you feeling better ASAP.”

“Fine. Thank you. Then you’d better stay away. This is probably the last thing you need.”

“Call whoever you need to call and let them know you’re down for the count for the next few days. At least until that fever breaks.”

“Right.”

“Okay then. I’m going to find you some Motrin.”

“I have some in my bathroom. I’ll get it.”

“Then I’ll go fix you some soup or something.”

“You’ll have to have it delivered. I have nothing in the fridge.” Her face was red, no doubt. Hopefully he’d chalk it up to the fever, not her mortification that he’d taken it upon himself to take care of her and nothing she could say was going to sway his decision.

A pause and then he cleared his throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

He slipped out of her room, and she shut her eyes, doing her best to ignore the fact that she felt like death. At least her stomach wasn’t upset. It was probably just a cold, but then again, the fever indicated infection somewhere. She sniffed. Sinuses.

“God, this was not on my list for today,” she muttered. She forced herself to get the Motrin, then crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

She must have dozed because when she woke, Lainie was there holding a syringe and a bag from the local pharmacy. She set both on the end table, then settled on the bed next to Jesslyn.

“I don’t wanna be sick. I don’t have time to be sick. Why is this happening to me? Haven’t I been through enough? Now we have to throw feeling awful into the mix? It’s not fair.” Jesslyn couldn’t help the whine in her words.

Lainie smiled, her gaze sympathetic. “I know, but it is what it is. Let’s get some meds in you.” She pulled her stethoscope to her ears and proceeded to give Jesslyn a full examination. Finally, she sat back. “Well, you’re definitely sick.”

“And people actually pay for that kind of genius diagnosis? I’m in the wrong business.”

Lainie laughed. “I know. I’m sorry. Your lungs sound a little tight. Let’s do a steroid shot and an antibiotic, some cough medicine, and all the fluids you can stand. I brought you an inhaler to use as well. You’ll be good to go in a few days.”

“I don’t have time for this, Lainie.”

“So you said. But the good thing is you can work from here. I’m sure you have paperwork to catch up on.”

“Well, yes. That’s true.”

Lainie patted her shoulder. “You might want to find some nose spray too.”

“I have some in the bathroom.”

Lainie administered the meds, gave her a tight hug, then swept out of the room.

Jesslyn coughed, blew her nose, then fell into a restless sleep.

And dreamed of him. The man in her room. “I’ll be watching you, Jesslyn,” he whispered.

Jesslyn yanked herself out of the dream and sat up panting, sweating, and shaking. She hurtled out of the bed and into the bathroom where she lost what little she had in her stomach. From the dream or the virus? She didn’t know, but it was the first time she’d ever dreamed the man spoke to her.

She slid to the floor and lay on the cool tile while she processed everything. Had he spoken those words? That he would be watching her?

For some reason, she didn’t think her brain had made that up. And maybe that was the reason a part of her was always looking over her shoulder, expecting the arsonist from her past to show up and ... what? Kill her?

Yes. Exactly that.

She hefted herself off the floor and took some more Motrin, still thinking. Was the act of burning her church some kind of message from him? Maybe her promise to come after him had sparked his rage, and now he was setting fires to get back at her?

It was possible. Likely even. She’d awakened the sleeping beast unintentionally.

Or had she subconsciously been hoping for that very thing?

Feeling too awful to explore that possibility, she scrubbed a hand down her face and sniffed.

The smell of coffee sent her nerve endings tingling. How did she smell anything with her stopped-up nose? Maybe it was just sheer desperation for the brew. But who was fixing it? Nathan would be gone, so it was probably Lainie. She had a key and knew the code to her alarm. Thank you, Lord, for good friends.

Jesslyn brushed her hair and her teeth, pulled on a fleece shacket, shoved some tissues into one of the pockets, and walked into the kitchen to find Nathan sitting at her kitchen table. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. He looked freshly scrubbed and quite adorable. And incredibly healthy. She wanted to hate him for that, but found herself kind of melting.

No. Wait. She didn’t melt . Stop it. Melting was for movies, not real life. “What are you still doing here?” He blinked and she winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that as harsh as it came out. I was just expecting Lainie.” And if she’d known it was Nathan, she would have taken a shower.

Oh well. At least she’d brushed her teeth. And her hair. She reached up and patted it. Hadn’t she?

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“A little better maybe.” She beelined for the coffee. “And just to be clear, I’m not upset you’re here. You fixed coffee.”

“It’s pretty easy with the Keurig.”

“But I don’t have to wait sixty seconds for it.”

“Chicken noodle soup is in the container.”

“Oh, how nice. Thanks.”

“It’s just takeout from the Cornerstone Café.”

“My morning just got a lot better thanks to you, so I appreciate it.” She sipped her coffee, then looked at Nathan. And tried not to melt again. She really needed to get over whatever was making her do that. It had to be related to being sick, right? “Don’t you have to work? And where did you get those clothes, by the way? They’re not my dad’s.”

“Yes, I have to work and Andrew ran by my place to grab me a few things.” He frowned. “I couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone. Not with what happened at the church.” His eyes narrowed. “That was really scary, Jesslyn.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.” She pulled a tissue from her shacket pocket and blew her nose.

He held out a hand. “Want me to throw that away for you?”

“Ew. Gross. No.” She did so and washed her hands. Then returned to her coffee.

“So,” he said, “what’s your plan for the day, because I don’t see you doing more than taking the occasional nap in between working.”

“You know what else is scary? The fact that you know I’m going to work regardless of how I feel.”

He laughed. “Well, we’ve known each other for a good bit. Maybe not like you know Lainie and some of the others, but while you’re mysterious in some ways, you’re an open book in others.”

“I’m not sure I want to ask what you mean by that.”

He offered her a soft smile. “Nothing earth-shattering. You’re very guarded when it comes to relationships outside of your circle. And even with those inside it, you don’t share much even though you welcome their confidences. You’re driven and focused and don’t like to be distracted from whatever goal you’ve set for yourself.”

And now she needed him to leave.

HE’D STRUCK A NERVE. Or sliced an artery. He wasn’t sure which, but her frozen stillness conveyed more than words ever could.

She finally gave a slow nod. “Okay, that’s a fair observation. I guess you don’t have to leave.”

“Leave?”

She waved a hand. “It’s not important.”

He scrubbed his chin, regret burning a path from his brain to his heart. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. I’ve always had a problem saying what I think. I’ve gotten better, but still...”

She kept her gaze locked on his. “And what about you? I feel like the pot is calling the kettle black, as my grandma used to say. So far, you’ve managed to avoid talking about yourself, and if you don’t want to, just say so and I won’t ask again.”

For a moment, he almost took advantage of her willingness to let it go, then sighed. “When I was eleven, my best friend at the time was Danny Pringle. He lived next door to me, so we were always at each other’s houses. We were inseparable, as were our parents. One summer evening, our parents went out to dinner like they did often. He came over and we were playing and got trapped in the old storage building in my parents’ backyard.”

“Oh no. How scary.”

“It was, but that’s not the worst of it. We were ... playing with fire. Literally. Anyway, the short version is, a fire broke out, he died, and I escaped.” He shook his head. “I’ve been terrified of fire ever since. It’s all I can do to visit the scene of a building that’s already burning. Does that make me weak?”

“Absolutely not.”

His heart hummed at the compassion lacing those two words. And her eyes ...

He had to stop thinking about her eyes. He blinked and looked away. “Well, some days it’s all I can think about. And wonder why I’m here and Danny’s not.”

Jesslyn made a choking sound and he looked up to see tears swimming in her eyes. “Oh, Nathan ... I ... I don’t even know what to say except that I understand,” she whispered.

He fought the emotion her response elicited and offered her a small smile. “Yeah. If anyone understands, it’s you.”

“Thank you for sharing with me.”

He’d shared, but not everything. He just couldn’t.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was really depressed after that, as you can imagine. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. They sent me to counseling, but despite everyone’s support, I decided I hated God because if he was as loving and powerful as I’d been taught—and believed—then he could have saved Danny. But he didn’t, so I stopped believing in him.”

“Did you ever start believing in him again?”

“I did. Sometimes, when things go bad, I can fall into old patterns, revert to believing the old lies. Like if he really was a God of love, he’d prove it and fix this world. He’d keep children safe and take out the bad guys roaming this earth, but he doesn’t.”

“I know that feeling. I just have to keep telling myself that nothing’s going to be perfect until he comes back,” she said. “Until then...”

“I know. He’s a good God. I know that. He’s proven it. I just have to stand firm on that knowledge when everything else seems to say differently.”

“I sometimes feel guilty for being alive while the rest of my family is dead. Like if I’d been there, I could have miraculously saved them somehow.” She gave a low snort. “Stupid. Mentally, I know that it’s not possible, and in all likelihood I’d be dead too, but I can’t help thinking that. Sometimes.”

He reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Yeah.”

She breathed in, then coughed so hard he thought she might lose a lung. When she finally caught her breath, she shook her head. “You get out of here and go see what you can find on this arsonist. I’m going back to bed.” She took another sip of her coffee. “After I finish this.”

“I’m worried about you being here alone.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear.” She smiled. “And I appreciate it. Truly. But I’ve got my alarm system and my Glock. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re also sick and not on your A game.”

“I’m aware, thanks.”

“Which is why I’ve called in reinforcements.”

She frowned. “Reinforcements?”

“Kenzie and Cole will be here shortly.”

“Nathan! They have jobs too. People who live alone get sick and don’t have babysitters.”

“True. But not everyone who is sick has a psycho shooter after them. So ... since you said you’d be willing to let your friends help, I think it’s better safe than sorry.”

She opened her mouth as though to object, then snapped her lips shut. “You might have a point,” she finally said. “And I did say that, didn’t I?” He raised a brow and she groaned. “Okay. Fine. I don’t have the strength to argue.”

“I’ll take that as a win.” She glanced up at him through tired, slightly glazed eyes, and he took in her red nose, chapped lips, and wild ponytail. And still found the woman attractive. “Go to bed, Jess, I’ll check on you later.”

She sniffed and nodded but narrowed her eyes. “Find the arsonist. If you don’t, when I wake up, I’ll be joining the hunt.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s the goal.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

She left and he literally had to run his hand over his lips to wipe his smile off. He liked her. Too much to kid himself that he could just be friends with her.

But unfortunately, he couldn’t be anything more. Not if he wanted to keep his pain and his secrets buried. A relationship with someone—a real relationship—would require him to relive things he’d rather not.

When Kenzie and Cole showed up seconds later, he let them in. Along with Andrew, Tate, and James. “Brought the whole team, I see?”

“A lot of it anyway. Lainie had to go to work,” James said, “and Kristine is in Paris, I think, or they’d be here too. If Jesslyn’s in trouble, we’re here to help.”

“And since this is officially our case,” Andrew said, “we can work it from here. Make sure she’s safe.”

“We’ll do what the team did with me,” Kenzie said.

Cole nodded. “Rally around her and have her back.”

Last year, someone had wanted Kenzie off the SWAT team and had done everything in their power to make that happen—including attempts on her life. The team had “circled the wagons” so to speak, with Kenzie in the middle. And now Jesslyn’s friends were doing the same for her. Because they loved her.

“Y’all are going to make me cry,” she said from the entrance to the hallway, her voice hoarse with emotion—and the illness.

“Never on purpose,” Kenzie said, “but if you need to, it’s okay.”

“No. I refuse. My nose is stuffed up enough, thanks.” She sniffed and the others laughed. “Heard y’all come in and had to say thanks before I crashed.” She waved and disappeared into her bedroom.

“Thanks for calling us,” Cole said to Nathan. “We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Nathan smiled. “I figured that.”

If Jesslyn would let them help protect her, Nathan might be able to sleep at night.