19. Jeb
Chapter nineteen
Jeb
If I were a worse friend, I would’ve taken her up on her offer to come inside, then kissed her senseless.
But Fallon doesn’t need anything else on her plate right now.
Don’t come for me. I’m not going to kiss her. Honestly, I’m not. But oh, how I wanted to.
If we were two different people, I would have. Without a doubt. I would have wrapped her in my arms, picked her feet off the ground, carried her right into the house, sat her on the kitchen counter, and…
I can’t go there. I can’t think about Fallon like that. It’s not fair. Neither of us is in a place for it right now.
At least I’m not.
And if I was going to date or hook up with anyone… It shouldn’t be her.
Wouldn’t be her.
Couldn’t be her.
Literally can not be her.
Of all people.
All the fucking people in the world, and I’m attracted to the fiancée of the man I killed. She still wears his engagement ring, and I’m fantasizing about her lips. Jesus, Jeb.
I strip my suit and step into the shower to get rid of her scent on me.
I locked my pinky with hers. I wanted to put my whole hand on her thigh to settle her down during dinner—to let her know I was there for her. I couldn’t go that far, so I settled for the next best thing. It was a good idea until she held my pinky through dinner. Then we got comfortable, linked together like that, listening to the Jusczyks antics for half the night.
Stephen wanted to know if I was jumping in Rhett’s grave, and right now it sure as hell feels like I am.
Fuck.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Closing my eyes, I try and don’t succeed to think of anything except for the way Fallon looked in that dress tonight.
The next morning, after a half-assed sleep, I check my phone and see a text from Fallon, sent at 11:49 p.m., long after I dropped her off and passed out.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
For the record, you looked good tonight, too.
I get up to make a coffee and busy myself. I can’t let my mind wander to what made her send that text.
I turn on Sports Center but find it’s not distracting enough, so I set out on an early morning run—the opposite way of Fallon’s. I contemplate going to church with my sister and her family just for something to do, but I probably won’t have enough time once I get back and shower. And by then, I will have changed my mind anyway.
The pavement feels good under my feet, and so does the rhythm of the run: right, right, right, left, right. Like Forest Gump, I keep running, totally forgetting the five-minute jog, five-minute walk routine I’ve been doing.
I run a 5k and make sure to never pass Fallon’s house—not once.
After the jog, I do three sets of twenty pushups, twenty squats, twenty crunches, and twenty lunges in the basement to fire my body up a bit more. Running felt good, and showering feels better. When I step out of the shower, I have a text waiting. I smile when I see who it’s from.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
My family is skipping Sunday dinner today. My mom and dad went away for the weekend, and Corbin doesn’t feel like hanging out. Do you want to come over and go fishing? I’ll paint?
Just tell me when.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
Lunchtime? I have egg salad and English muffins. I can cut up some fruit, too.
I’ll be there. Need me to bring anything?