Chapter Twenty-Two
TOMMY
Jenna’s sofa bed is the modern world’s answer to medieval torture; I’m convinced of it.
And speaking of medieval, so is her skillet. I’ve wasted three pancakes since the nonstick is basically nonexistent.
This girl has zero interest in domestic tasks, and that was only evidenced further when I snuck out of her bedroom after she immediately fell asleep and figured out that the sofa actually doubled as a bed, only to find a red thong shoved down the back of one of the cushions.
That’s … not how I pictured seeing Jenna’s underwear again, although at least they were clean.
When I finally have four passable pancakes and a partially crystallized tube of maple syrup, I snag the two mugs of black coffee I brewed a few minutes earlier and head for Jenna’s bedroom door.
It’s still closed with no sign of movement on the other side.
Depressing the handle with my elbow since I don’t have any free hands, I’m surprised to find Jenna sitting up in bed, scrolling on her phone.
She’s still dressed in the white Blades T-shirt I handed to her last night.
The partially ripped collar hangs over one of her shoulders, and her hair is a disheveled mess.
She hasn’t bothered to remove the makeup she was wearing last night, and I’m thankful that my hands are full right now, or I’d be tempted to wipe the black mascara smeared under her left eye.
I’ll be completely honest; I can count on a single hand the number of times I’ve been scared in my life.
Once when I was eleven, and a group of friends and I decided to play a game of chicken with cars on our street.
Another time when I went cliff diving with the same group of friends a couple of years later on a school trip.
The final time was when my dad kicked me out of his apartment and I realized that I was, in fact, alone in the world.
Last night though? I think that was the first time I was genuinely scared on behalf of someone else.
Sure, Mom has had her fair share of asshole boyfriends, who I wanted to beat to a pulp when they broke her heart or left her for another woman.
But Ethan? He was another brand of dangerous, and Jenna was at the top of his hit list. When I pulled back her duvet and helped her into bed, I could tell she was more sober than when she’d walked out of the elevator, pinned in that sick bastard’s grasp.
But that was only because she’d just had the wake-up call of her life.
I’m painfully aware—unfortunately for me—that Jenna isn’t shy to go home with guys, and honestly, when I was mad at her in the past, it wasn’t because I was judging her choices.
She has every right to do what she wants. With whom she wants to do it.
It just sucks to think of her willingly giving herself to someone other than me, and that’s a bittersweet pill to swallow.
Last night was anything but consensual though, and if I hadn’t showed up at her apartment and waited for her to come home when she didn’t answer the door, then … I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened to her.
And the really fucking weird thing about all of this? When my knuckles connected with Ethan’s nose, all I could see was her goddamn brother and his face in the final second before I punched him.
In that moment, when Holt had fallen back into the table behind him, I knew I’d overstepped, even if I didn’t—and wouldn’t—admit it to myself. Holt had shown no sign of assaulting me, and he had every right to defend his sister when I gave her shit and told her she looked like it too.
At the time, it felt like the most important hit of my life—defending my honor and ego against a girl who’d humiliated me and told all her fucking friends how she blew off my advances.
That punch had been anything but significant, along with the words that left my mouth that night.
To be honest, none of my punches before last night had really carried any meaning. They were superficial and a projection of the man I—and the rest of the universe—is determined to see.
“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day and stare at me, or actually hand over those pancakes?”
Jenna sets her phone down on the white duvet, and she sits up taller in bed, resting her head against the dark green headboard behind her.
I begin walking toward her, smiling the whole way over to her bedside. “Generally speaking, people are a little more grateful when someone brings them breakfast in bed.”
As I set the plate of pancakes in front of her, along with a cup of coffee on her nightstand, she looks up at me with her blue eyes and takes the maple syrup from my hand.
“Did you … sleep in my bed last night?”
I’m wearing only my black jeans and nothing on top, and I’m sure she can see my skin as it pebbles at the thought of sharing a bed with this girl.
Hate sex is one thing. Climbing under her duvet and spending the night is an entirely different concept. Something I never ever do.
“You mean, did we fuck?” I ask, taking a seat at the end of her bed. “My name isn’t Ethan.”
Jenna drops her eyes to the pancakes in her lap, shame coloring her features.
Yeah, I don’t fucking like that.
“Hey …” I reach across and hook my pointer finger under her chin. Her glassy eyes connect with mine. “You’d best not be thinking what I think you are right now.”
“Are you trying to control my thoughts now as well, Tommy?” Jenna’s voice doesn’t match her words. It bears no malice or resentment, only uncertainty and a vulnerability, which makes me even more thankful that I waited for her to return home last night.
“Don’t be a fucking brat, Hellion.” I shake my head at her, lips curling into a cocky grin. “You’re hungover to shit and wasting four perfectly good pancakes I just had to fight with your crappy skillet to make. You’re in no position to give me back talk.”
She quirks a brow at me, my finger still hooked under her chin when I inch a little closer.
Jenna draws her knees up to give me space, and like the fucking magnets we are, there’s zero resistance to my approach.
“If you have even one single, tiny thought that anything about last night was your fault—or of your own making—then I want you to listen to me very fucking carefully.”
She drops her eyes to her breakfast again, and since I figure the pancakes are already cold, I slip them off her lap and onto the side table beside her coffee. Next, I set my own coffee mug down and take the maple syrup from her hand, setting that on the floor beside the bed.
When she looks at me again with big eyes, framed by thick lashes, all I can think about is kissing away any invasive thoughts this girl might have.
She might hate my guts, and I might find her insufferable ninety-nine percent of the time.
Yet, despite all the toxicity that has passed between us, Jenna Miller is the kind of person who deserves good things.
Bad people do not belong in her life. And if they are, then that has nothing to do with her and everything to do with them crossing boundaries into a world where they don’t belong.
“What’s the matter?” Jenna leans forward, one soft palm coming to rest on my shoulder.
My heart rate slows to a more gentle pace, although my invasive thoughts remain.
She was right when she said that I was bad for her because I don’t belong in here, in her world.
“I …” Like an out-of-body experience, my own voice doesn’t feel like it’s mine when I begin speaking. “I need to get home and pack for Colorado. The team plane leaves in three hours.”
Jenna cocks her head to one side, eyes narrowing slightly. “Now, I want to know what you’re hiding.”
My overpowering need to protect you from bad people.
“My annoyance over you wasting the breakfast in bed I made,” is what actually leaves my lips.
She scans my face, and my stomach coils under the weight of her gaze. “You’re just one big act, aren’t you?”
Every muscle in my body mirrors the tension in my stomach, and I shift my hand from under her chin to grasp it between my thumb and forefinger. I’m holding her tighter than I want, but I’m so fucking tense that it’s impossible to ease my grip.
“Am I hurting you?” my subconscious asks on my behalf.
“No.” Jenna’s voice is soft and breathy as she edges a little closer to me. “But I do want you to tell me why you suddenly need to leave. Was it something I said?”
My tongue runs across my bottom lip. We’re still an arm’s length apart, although it feels like I’m pressing her up against the wall again.
“Normally, you can’t wait to see the back of me,” I playfully counter. “Did I say something to make you like me all of a sudden?”
I’m waiting for her to slip into banter mode and tell me that nothing’s changed between us. That she still hates my guts this morning as much as she did the last time we saw each other.
Come on, Hellion. Play the game.
Her face doesn’t change, and neither does the softness behind her eyes.
“You can talk to me, you know? I know I’m probably the last person you ever thought would say that to you, but somehow, I feel like I might also be the first. You don’t have to keep pretending that you’re someone you’re not or maybe don’t want to be.”
Before I know it, I’m closing more distance between us, and my hand is sliding from her chin to the back of her head, pulling Jenna’s mouth closer to my own.
Other than this girl right in front of me, I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone or was even remotely tempted to share something deeply intimate like this.
Fuck.
Her breathing is rapid and ragged, eyes centered solely on my lips.
“Cobra.” My subconscious played no part in what I just said. It was purposeful and protective, and … fuck … I’m already regretful.
Jenna drops her hand from my shoulder and pulls back, just like I expected her to the second our safe word left my lips. After all, that’s exactly the effect I wanted it to have. It’s what it’s designed to do.
What it isn’t meant for is to cause hurt, and that’s precisely what I see creased into the lines across Jenna’s forehead.
“Yeah …” she breathes out with a cutting edge to her tone, almost like normal service has resumed between us. And I should be relieved that it has. “Perhaps you should head home now.”
She motions to the door with her hand, and my own falls to the nape of her neck—a silent plea for her not to push me away.
At this point, hell only knows where my brain is at. I’m so fucking confused, so fucking conflicted and torn. None of this is familiar to me. Jenna’s absolutely right; she is the first person to truly invite me to open up to her. In my adult life anyway.
“Jenna, I …” My sentence fails under the heavy weight of scrambled thoughts.
Reaching behind her neck, Jenna places a palm over the back of my hand, wrapping her fingers around the edges of my own.
I can feel her touch all the way to my toes, and more goose bumps erupt across my skin.
“Let go of me, Tommy.”
My hand drops to the pillow behind her, eyes still fixed on hers.
I don’t want to leave, even though I’m going to miss my flight and land myself in more shit with the team if I don’t head out now.
“I’ll be gone for eight days,” I tell her. “Keep your door locked and the dead bolt on at all times.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Tommy.”
I know I don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that I will. Especially when it comes to Jenna’s safety and sickos like Ethan.
Sensing that she’s about to ask me to leave for a second time, I rise from the bed and make for the door, harboring a shred of hope that she’ll ask me to stay, like she did last night.
It feels wrong for us to part like this. I don’t want to go on bad terms. Not after what she’s been through.
I pause just as I reach her door and turn to look at her. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me the whole time.
“In case you were wondering, I stopped by last night to apologize for kicking you out of my apartment the last time we … yeah.”
Jenna goes to say something, but I get there first, raising a hand in front of me.
“I also wanted to congratulate you on the game and that save you’d pulled off.
” I can’t help the smile as it tugs at my lips.
“Sure, Orlando’s center forward connected with the ground before the ball, but still, the shot was bending away from you when you made contact.
It was a wild strike and an even better stop.
You’ve got serious talent. Even if you feed your body like shit. ”
On a headshake that feels like it’s made to mask her emotions, Jenna scoffs softly at me. “Thanks, asswipe. I’m sure you’ll need to lie down after that display of kindness.”
I want to laugh so hard, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself.
Jenna flicks a hand out in front of her, reaching for the pancakes and picking them up. “Now, be on your motherfucking way. I’ve got cold and distinctly average pancakes to annihilate.”