Chapter 11 #2
I was proud of her for that attitude. It showed an incredible amount of self-awareness and strength. But it was hard to focus on that, on anything at all, above the overwhelming need to drive my fist through the motherfucker who’d made her afraid all the fucking time. All. The. Fucking. Time.
“I’m okay. Really. Please, don’t let this ruin our night.”
I forced a smile and nodded. “I won’t. But I’m going to hold your hand, okay? If you need anything, squeeze my hand, and I’ll be more than happy to throw down for you.”
“Thanks,” Jenna drawled, raising her brows like she was questioning my sanity, and I couldn’t blame her. But then in an unguarded moment, appreciation flashed across her face, making me even more insane with the burning need to protect her.
We walked quietly, hand in hand, for a few minutes before Jenna pointed to a booth. “I’d like to look at those scarves. But not at the risk of that man’s life. Think you can handle it without”—she lifted our joined hands to make freakin’ air quotes—“throwing down.”
“Are you poking fun at me?”
“Never!” She laughed, and damn, nothing else could have made me feel better than that sound.
“Fine, I’ll control myself. But if you need me to...”
“Hola, hermosa,” the shop owner, an older Mexican man with deep wrinkles and a wide smile, said as we approached. Hello beautiful.
“Hola. Estas son bonitas.” She praised his goods with a warm smile, and she didn’t look scared. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed mine back. “Wait! That wasn’t a kick-his-ass-for-me squeeze.”
I laughed, loudly. I didn’t think there was any way I’d ever laugh about her situation, but her happiness was infectious.
A scarf caught my eye. It had wavy stripes in every shade of blue and turquoise, like a tropical ocean.
Or Jenna’s eyes. I used my free hand to pull it off the display, because there was no way in hell I was going to let go of her.
Not if it made her feel safe. “This would look beautiful on you. Do you like it?”
She freed her hand to take the scarf. “It’s lovely, and so soft too.”
“Try it on.”
She moved away just enough to wrap it around herself.
“I didn’t think it was possible for your eyes to look any bluer, but they do. May I buy it for you?”
Her cheeks turned a pretty pink as she slowly nodded. “Thank you.”
The shopkeeper came closer. “Bonita,” he crooned, reaching toward the scarf.
Jenna stiffened, her smile turning frozen, as uneasiness filled her eyes. I snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her to me.
“Like this,” the obtuse man said, still trying to fucking touch her.
I shifted her behind me. “We got it.”
The man quickly stepped back. I narrowed my eyes, and he took two more steps back.
Only when he was far enough away did I turn to Jenna, keeping myself between her and the shopkeeper. I held her with one hand, the other caressing her face, taking in her wide, surprised eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Are you okay?”
Was she really going to deny what I saw plain as day on her face? “You didn’t want him to touch you.”
“Liam, it’s okay.” She softened, leaning into me. “He was just going to rearrange the scarf. It would’ve been fine no matter what, but especially with you here, there was nothing to worry about.”
“No one should touch you if you don’t want to be touched.”
“He was only going to touch the scarf. It was innocent. Just because I don’t like being touched doesn’t mean I expect everyone else to feel the same. Some people are more touchy-feely, and how could they know that I’m not?”
I opened my mouth to rage back at that, because no way in hell was that acceptable, but Jenna’s smile was so sweet and bright, I couldn’t bring myself to chase her radiance away. “Do you still want the scarf?” I asked instead.
“Absolutely. I love it, and I love it even more because it’s from you.”
“Would you like to see a dessert menu?” our waitress asked later that evening.
Jenna nodded eagerly, making me chuckle. Again. Dinner had been filled with easy conversation and laughter.
After we ordered flan and the waitress walked away, we had the first awkward pause in conversation, and I sensed Jenna contemplating her next words.
“What are you thinking about so hard? You can say anything to me.”
“I was just wondering, what made you leave the Army?” She rushed to add, “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal.”
“I’m an open book to you, Jenna. You can ask me anything.
” I thought for a moment, wanting to give her the real answer, not the easy one that usually rolled off my tongue.
“There was no injury or mission gone wrong or anything like that. I just felt done, you know? I’d wanted to serve my country, and I did.
In my six years serving, I eliminated some bad guys, and I helped save some of the good guys.
During those same years, I also gave my family a lot of worry.
I wasn’t there with them when my dad needed emergency heart surgery, or when they were struggling at the restaurant while he recovered.
I’d missed my brother’s and sister’s graduations.
My friends back home were falling in love and getting married, and I wanted that too. ”
“Your family is so proud of you, I’m sure. They wouldn’t hold any of that against you.”
“I know they don’t. That’s part of why I wanted to get out, though. I wanted more time with them. I wanted the chance to have that kind of family for myself one day.”
“You’re so lucky to have that.” The wistfulness in her voice made my heart ache for her.
“You don’t?”
A shadow washed over Jenna’s expression.
“Growing up, Tyler and I were really close. We still talk often, but I’ve only seen him a couple of times over the last eight years.
I miss him so much. My parents...they mean well, but we aren’t close.
My dad owns a shipping and logistics company, and my mom is an environmental lobbyist. When I was growing up, they were usually either working or shmoozing.
Even when they were there, they were distracted. ”
“That’s rough. I’m sorry. Did you have other family around to help?”
Like a switch was flipped, Jenna’s entire demeanor changed. She tensed and her eyes dropped to the table, but not before I saw the pain in them. “The neighbors helped.” She said the word “helped” like it was a dirty word.
My blood boiled and my fists clenched. Now I knew the motherfuckers responsible.
Everything about her was screaming it. Her neighbors were going to pay for every single thing they'd ever done to her while her parents were apparently too busy working to notice or care what was being done to their daughter.
I used every ounce of control to keep my expression neutral as I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground.
I needed to know more, but this wasn’t the time or place.
Jenna took care of it all on her own, though.
She blinked up at the colorful lights above our table, and when she returned her eyes to me, they were remarkably clear considering how she’d looked just a moment earlier.
She smiled. “So, you left the Army and joined the fire service? That’s quite the resume.”
Fuck. I didn’t want to have that conversation either, but I’d gladly take the heat off her.
“Depends on who you ask. If you ask a firefighter, yes. If you ask the men and women who devote their lives to the military, what I did is a drop in the bucket.” I looked at the table, tracing a water ring from my glass before I dragged my eyes back up to meet hers.
“If you ask my team, I left right when they needed me the most.”
“Liam,” she whispered. She grabbed my hand, her two tiny hands barely covering my big one.
“I walked away the first opportunity I got. They didn’t get to walk away at all.”
A beat passed. Then another. And then tears popped into her eyes and she squeezed my hand as my words sank in. “I’m so sorry about your team, but it’s not your fault.”
I fought the urge to blank my expression. Forced myself to hold Jenna’s gaze and let it all hang out between us. I wanted full honesty with her. “I left them. Walked away without a scar, physical or emotional.”
“That’s bull,” she snapped. “Stop saying you walked away. First, you served your term, and I have no doubt you did it well. The men and women who dedicate years and years are special and deserve the utmost respect. But they couldn’t do what they do without people like you.
Second, you aren’t psychic. You aren’t God.
You had no way of knowing what would happen to them, and you had no control over it.
Third, I’m really glad you got out without any physical injuries. But, emotionally? I’m not buying that.”
Damn, she didn’t pull any punches. Would she be as blunt when it came to herself?
Thank goodness the waitress brought over our flan just then, a welcome distraction.
I didn’t want to talk about me anymore. To hell with my good intentions, I needed to know more about Jenna’s childhood and her neighbors.
I let Jenna have the first bite, then I took one. “Mmm, this is good,” I said. “Firm on the outside, jiggly in the middle.”
Jenna giggled. “Is jiggly an official food descriptor?”
I nodded seriously. “Jiggliness is a critical factor to properly critique flan and jello.”
Her laugh was musical. I was tempted to continue with the silliness. Maybe I should have. But the fury still pumping through my veins pressed me to learn more about her neighbor.
“Where in Atlanta did you grow up?”
“Buckhead, right outside the city. Then I came out here to attend UT Austin, and I liked it there, but I fell in love with San Antonio immediately when I visited Juliette’s family for a weekend. You grew up here, didn’t you?”
Good try, but I wasn’t that easily deterred. “Yes. Do you go back east often?”
I was an ass. Jenna tensed, and I wished I could take the question back. “No, I haven’t been back in years. I...”
What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d have time later to figure out if Jenna avoided going home because her parents still lived next to the person, or people, who’d instilled so much fear in her.
I wanted to know everything about Jenna, but my need to know about her childhood, about her neighbor, came from a darker place inside of me.
Not like this, though. I didn’t need to interrogate her. I needed to earn her trust first. I needed to help her feel safe.
I pushed back the rage that threatened to bubble over and smiled. “I’m sorry. Yes, I grew up in Alamo Heights and our restaurant was near the Riverwalk, so San Antonio is definitely home for me.”
“Is the restaurant still there?”
“The people we sold it to still run it, but it’s not the same. Ours was old-school, hearty Italian. Now it’s all modern. Less cheese, more salad.”
“Too bad, I would have loved to go when your family owned it.”
“You’ll have to settle for their home cooking instead, and their ice cream when they open that. I’ll take you down to them in Galveston one day.” The words came out without thought, but they felt so right. I’d love to take Jenna to meet my parents. They would love her.
“I’d like that. Tell me more about your family.”
“My parents are retired, but getting antsy with all their free time, hence the ice cream shop. My brother and sister followed them into the hospitality and restaurant businesses. Chris works for a hotel chain. He’s had to travel a little for work, but seems to have settled down now near L.A.
Emma’s at the culinary institute in New York.
She wants to be a chef, but not to own a restaurant like we did growing up. ”
“So the restaurant was a family affair?”
“Yep. Next time, I’ll cook you dinner. I promise I’ll knock your socks off. If you ever need to plan a library fundraiser, I’m also perfectly competent to order everything you’d need, set up, serve, bus, and wash dishes. You name it, if it’s needed to run a restaurant, I can do it.”
“You’re making a lot of big promises. First a hero who will ride in on his white horse to throw down anytime I need it? And now a chef who promises to knock my socks off? I’m going to have to guard my heart carefully around you.”
She said it with a laugh, but I didn’t see anything funny about that. I saw everything I wanted. I let every ounce of the emotion I was feeling come out in my next words. “Jenna, if you decide to trust me with your heart, I promise I’ll keep it safe.”