Chapter 8 Mile Eight #2
After finalizing plans for the weekend with Catherine, I get back to the flow of my day.
One analysis of campus ramps, two hours of data mining for the grant application, and three student evaluations later, I start to pack up for the day.
The day’s busyness keeps my brain from wandering to anxious places—like my first training session with Garrett.
With each tick of the clock closer to four-thirty, the knot in my stomach pulls tighter. It’s the first time since I agreed to a second chance on this friendship that I am seeing him. Between that and the worry about tripping him or falling on my face tonight, my nerves tingle with worry.
“Jenny, luv, heading out?”
I halt upon hearing Miles’s silky English accent slinking into my office alcove. “Yep,” I say briskly, plucking up the bag with my workout clothes and sneakers for me to change into.
“Pity. It’s been days since I’ve seen you.”
Six to be exact, but who’s counting? There’s been nothing from him since his lone text, hoping I got home safe after he ditched me for Kayla.
No calls or texts to check in with me about Anker.
Something—thanks to Catherine—I know he’s aware of.
Adding to the reasons why a crush on him was a huge mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.
“Perhaps you’d like to keep me company instead. We can grab a quick bite before my evening class.”
Mouth drawn into a firm line, I tug my bag onto my shoulder before unfolding my cane. “I’m headed out. Maybe Kayla can keep you company.”
“Kayla…” he makes a dismissive noise. “She’s at some Women in Academia function.” He leans on the front of my desk.
“And you’re not going with her?” I round my desk.
“Those things are dreadful. Not to mention it’s only for women in academia, which I am not.” Head tilted, he huffs a breathy laugh. “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
It’s a half-truth. As aware as I am that Miles Calloway isn’t the man for me, the dregs of my dying crush twinges in my chest. For the last ten months, this man has occupied so many of my romantic daydreams. He doesn’t deserve my attention, but still, he has it. I’m a work in progress, after all.
“Someone is a terrible liar… Jealous looks good on you.” He reaches over and brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Kayla and I are just friends.”
“I’m well aware of your version of friendship.” Scoffing, I step back, putting distance between us.
“Jenny,” he coos.
“It’s Jensen. Not Jenny,” I say, my jaw tight.
“Wait”—he tilts his head—"Are you truly angry with me?”
“Yes… No… Ugh…” I cringe.
“Which is it?”
Eyes closed, I slosh a breath. “Both.”
My insides are a boondoggle of emotions. I’m angry and disappointed. At him, sure, but mostly at me. I’m disappointed that I fell for him. I’m angry that despite everything that I still care that he hasn’t reached out to me in the last six days.
“I think I’m more mad at me than you…” My shoulders slump with the hard sigh that rolls through me. “Though I don’t appreciate the comparison to Jenny Wren. I’m not your—or anyone else’s—inspirational porn.”
“The comparison is meant to be complimentary,” he says, affronted.
“It’s not. It’s patronizing.”
“I thought you liked the nickname.”
“I don’t.” Indignation roils inside me.
This is a played-out song that I’ve heard time and time again. You inspire me. You’re amazing. Blah, blah, blah… It’s tiresome to serve as inspiration porn for others. Especially from a man I wanted to see me as something else entirely.
“You never… If I had known…” he says softly.
I rub my temples. “I know. I didn’t say anything.”
“Why?”
I motion between us. “Because I liked when you called me Jenny… Until I knew who Jenny Wren was. Part of me thought…” I shake my head.
“Thought what?”
“That I was special.” My admission is quiet.
“You are. Jen… Jensen, please forgive me.” He steps close, placing his hand on my upper arm. “I care about you.”
“Did you care about her when you ditched her at the bar?” A deep bass booms into the room.
“Excuse me?” Miles spins.
Blinking, I turn my head toward the voice. “Garrett? What are you doing here? You’re twenty minutes early.”
“I had a meeting at the medical school today,” he says as if that explains everything.
“Bloke, what was that ditched her comment about?” Miles says.
“I think you know,” Garrett grits, his words pointed like spears aimed and ready for attack.
“Enlighten me.”
Garrett stalks closer, anger radiating off him. “You got her to stay with you at the bar and then deserted her… Does that enlighten you?”
“Garrett.” His name is a warning from my lips.
“What are you talking about?”
“Am I not speaking plainly enough for you? Should I speak slower?” he seethes. “You left her at the bar.”
“I left her with Edward.” Miles bats at the air like it’s nothing.
Like I’m nothing. While I don’t want to be doted on or fussed over, I would like the people in my life to show more care about my safety.
“Pathetic.” Garrett’s grunted response is reminiscent of a guard dog’s low growl. “You tell her brother you had her and then leave her with someone she doesn’t know without a single word or asking her if she’s okay.”
“What’s your problem, bloke?”
“You. I don’t like the way you’ve treated Jensen.”
“How very cliché alpha male of you.” Smugness radiates from Miles. “The last time I checked, Jensen is an adult woman who doesn’t need someone with a hero complex to swoop in.”
“No but she needs, deserves, to be respected enough by the people in her life to give a shit about her feelings and not just leave her behind without a care for how it may make her feel.” He moves closer, towering over Miles.
“Did you even check in on her? Wonder why she’s here and not still in New York? ”
“I texted that night, but didn’t hear from her. When Catherine said her brother was hurt, I just assumed she was busy with that.”
“The she you are speaking of is right here and can speak for herself.” I hiss, glaring at both men.
“Sorry,” Garrett mumbles.
“See, as I said, she’s an adult woman able to make her own decisions. Perhaps you should learn to respect that.” Miles juts his chin toward Garrett.
“Yes, I am.” I stand just a little straighter. “But men who ditch me at the bar and, despite knowing about my brother getting hurt, that haven’t reached out in six days to check in on me, don’t get to lecture people on respect.”
Garrett may be overstepping, but it comes from a good place.
He’s a natural protector. Just like with the pineapple champagne that I now know about, he sees danger and swoops in.
I wonder how much is imprinted into the DNA of who he is versus the response to losing Val.
Either way, I don’t appreciate Miles—of all people—chiding Garrett about respecting me.
It’s not his place, and his behavior telegraphs a lack of respect for me.
“I…uhh…” He tugs at his blond hair. “Shit. That was a dick move,” he says, turning to face me.
“Jen…Jensen, I am sorry. For that, and for everything.” Miles releases a hard breath and steps close.
“I understand that I acted carelessly and hurt you, but that was never my intention, and I am truly sorry. I do care for you, please let me show you. May I take you to dinner? Please?” A soft coaxing nature punctuates his plea.
A tug-of-war rages inside me between what I know I should do and those old wants. The intensity of Miles’s focus twines around me, its warmth tugging me towards saying yes to his invitation. An invitation lathered in everything but what it should be. It’s not desire for me. It’s guilt.
“I accept your apology from earlier, but not your dinner invitation,” I say, my spine straight.
“Alright…” He steps back. “Good night, Jensen.” Turning, he leaves.
Tense silence takes up all the space between where I stand in front of my desk and where Garrett looms near the entryway. My limited vision tethered to his figure. Posture stiff, his stare is locked on me. He reminds me of a wild animal trying to assess if I’m friend or foe.
My sigh teeters between annoyance and relenting. “We may be friends, but you’re an asshole.”
“I know…” Garrett clears his throat. “At least I didn’t punch him.”
Laughter bubbles out of me. The earnestness in his ridiculous statement sends me into a fit of giggles.
“True.” I shake my head.
“But I overstepped.” He blows out a long breath. “I always do with you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Neither do I, but it’s in my job description to take care of myself, not yours.”
“Friends take care of each other.” He moves toward me.
“True.” I tip my head up to him. “But in the future, friend, let me handle Miles or other men unless I request backup, okay?”
“Okay.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “Sorry again.”
“I know you are.” I sigh. “I know it comes from a good place. It’s just who you are. You’re protective of…your friends.” I wave my hand at him. “Have you always been this way, or…” I close my mouth.
“Or is this because of Val?”
“Yeah…” I rake my teeth along my lower lip. In the same breath that I call him out for overstepping my boundaries, I do the same to him. Classic Jensen.
“I don’t want to see the people I care about get hurt. If I have the ability to stop it, I will.”
“And you care about me,” I whisper and flick the rubber band twice against my wrist. Its sting settling the threatening belly swoop.
“Of course. We’re friends.” He rakes his fingers through his chestnut strands. “That doesn’t change the fact that I crossed a line. Tell me your boundaries, and I’ll try my best to follow.”
“You’ll try your best?”
“I never want to break a promise to you.” The upward tug of his mouth is evident in his gentle timbre.
I flick the rubber band again. “Turnip.”
“What?” He cocks his head.
“Anytime we cross that invisible line with each other, we say ‘turnip’ and that lets us know to stop. Boundaries are good, but I also know there are some that we may never realize we have, or times when it’s not easy to talk about certain things.
This way we have a safe word to reel both of us back, because let’s face it, it’s only a matter of time before one of us crosses another line. ”
“Turnip it is.”
“Great. Now let me go change, so we can get this disaster movie that will be our first training session going.” I grab my bag. “And after, you’re buying me a latte. It’s a special occasion after all, so today I get two.”