Chapter Eleven
Jonesy
The dinner club is gathered in Lottie’s living room, sitting around the coffee table, playing Clue.
Katie sits opposite me, between Lottie and Mia, who is nestled against Alfie.
They’re sickeningly in love, and I’m pleased for him.
Alfie always swore he’d never settle down owing to the fact that his own father, a renowned psychologist, could never give one hundred percent to his family.
Alfie’s mom had been pretty miserable when they were growing up, and it left Alfie believing he couldn’t have both a healthy, meaningful home life and a career where he gave his all to his patients.
Nearly losing Mia a few months ago gave him the kick up the ass he needed. Caleb and I helped with that, too.
I watch Katie studying the board, her usual competitiveness in full force tonight as we vie for the win.
I’ve caught her looking at me a few times with scrunched brows, as if she’s trying to figure out what it is that we’re doing here.
I held her all night last night, and we haven’t discussed it at all.
No surprise there. But did she wake up having a nightmare?
Nope. Not a damn whimper came out of her mouth.
She got a full ten hours, and I held her the entire time.
I wasn’t going to risk her losing a wink of sleep by moving, so I held on, stroking her ribs with my thumb, snuggling myself against her warm body.
We haven’t talked about what the plan is for tonight’s sleeping arrangements, but given that we’re both drinking, I assume we’ll both be staying here at Lottie’s house.
I’m sure as hell not sleeping on the damn cot, so I know we’ll be sharing a bed again.
Whether she wants to fight me on it first is another story.
But I bet after sleeping through the night, she’ll be thinking maybe it’s worth it.
I can’t believe it was only a week ago that I snuck into the spare room and got into bed with her.
After years of fighting and competitive bullshit, we might be coming out the other side.
I don’t believe one good night’s sleep is gonna sort out our issues, but hell, it’s a good start.
And it doesn't hurt that I’m the one helping her.
Even when I was the only one who didn’t know about the nightmares in the first place, didn’t know that she was working on the Thomas Vale case, I’m still the one who’s making her feel better now.
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I think it’s .
. . pride. I know I’m a good man. I have good friends around me, good people who rely on me, and I have a great relationship with my family.
But this rivalry with Katie has always been a thorn in my side.
It’s always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough or a good person.
If I can fix this with her, who knows? Maybe we’ll finally be real friends again, like we were in college. Maybe even more than friends.
Before Afghanistan, we’d kissed. One life-altering, nothing-is-going-to-be-the-same-again kiss, and then I left.
I’d dreamed about it when I was overseas.
I’d held on to the image of the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, the way her lips stretched into the biggest smile after we pulled back.
The feel of her fingers pulling at my hair.
I’d dreamed about it every night, knowing that when I got home, I was going to tell her I wanted to be with her, that I loved her, and that nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to change that.
But after coming home, Katie was different.
Angry. Indifferent to my return home. Parading a two-pump chump in front of me like he was God’s gift to women.
She barely acknowledged me unless I was annoying her or beating her at some stupid board game.
And thus started the bickering, the rivalry, the incessant need to irritate her into reacting. Just to get some attention from her.
I’ve kept my feelings for her tempered, on the edge of my chest. They loomed over every interaction we’ve had the last eight years or so since I returned home.
She’s shown me time and time again that she’s not interested in anything more than our current unspoken arrangement up until this week.
Now those feelings I’ve had are creeping closer and closer to the front line, holding steady as I watch her lower her weapons.
She’s skittish; at any moment, the defenses could come back up, but I want to keep trying.
This is the closest we’ve come in a long time to actually enjoying each other’s company.
I want that. I need it. Christ, I didn’t realize how much I needed it.
“How’s the case going?” Alfie asks, and I watch as the rest of the group’s ears perk up.
“Yeah, we’re dying to know,” Caleb chimes in with all the subtlety of a damn bull.
I look at Katie, who shrugs. We’re not meant to discuss the case.
Something about it being an active police investigation and against policy, blah blah blah.
Arguably, this could be seen as an academic collaboration.
Consulting with peers to look at the evidence, if we choose to share it, but ethics rule it out.
The fact that we’re drinking, eating, and playing board games is a bit of a no-no.
“You know we can’t talk about an active investigation,” I say.
Caleb laughs, taking a pull from his beer. “Oh, I know you don’t think we care about the case. We want to know how it’s been nearly a full week of you two working together and you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“I’m sure there’s been a few near-misses,” Lottie joins in, poking Katie in the ribs until she laughs.
“Katie has been kind enough to let me sit in on the investigation. She’s shown me the ropes. It’s actually pretty fascinating work.”
The room descends into silence, all five faces staring at me like I’ve belched the alphabet.
I cough awkwardly, watching the blush rise up Katie’s neck. How was that the wrong thing to say? I cut through the tension the best way I know how, getting more alcohol.
“Time for another beer. Caleb, you want one? Alf, I assume you’re driving?”
“Yeah, bud, another one for me,” Caleb replies, rising to his feet to follow me to the kitchen.
“None for me.” Alfie frowns, and I spot Mia pushing him off the couch to follow us.
I pull open the refrigerator, letting the cool air calm my face. It doesn’t help for long, as when I turn, both Alfie and Caleb have their arms across their chests, eyebrows raised like a couple of meddling nanas.
“What?” I huff, pulling off the cap and taking a long pull.
Caleb points his finger at me, leaning across the island in the middle of the kitchen. “No.”
“No, what?”
“You know what. No. You can’t. Not with Katie,” he snips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, taking another large sip. “I just complimented her field of work.”
Alfie runs a hand along the back of his neck. “As much as I hate to admit this, Caleb is right. This dinner club is the highlight of the month. I don’t want to lose what we have here because you’re indulging a fifteen-year-long attraction when you will quite literally kill each other.”
Now I’m pissed.
Caleb can’t commit to anyone; he runs around like a twenty-two-year-old fuck boy, all because he can’t admit to Lottie that he’s been in love with her since college.
And Alfie Adams finally pulls his head out of his ass after working with Mia for two years .
. . or was it three? And it took a patient to abduct her for him to get his shit together and tell her he wants to be with her.
If I wanted a lecture from the cast of The Muppets, I would have called Kermit. These two can fuck off.
“Katie and I are working together and have put aside our differences to solve a literal murder. We’re both adults, and we know what’s at stake here. I think we’re good.”
“I’m out. Maybe I can reason with Katie instead,” Caleb scoffs, pushing off the counter and toward the living room.
“Don’t you go near her with this shit,” I hiss, moving in front of him to block his path. “She’s got a lot going on right now and doesn’t need this bullshit from you two. So let me assure you both. There is nothing going on between us, and there never will—”
The guy’s eyes widen as they stare behind me, and a loud clunk of glass hits the kitchen island. The hair on my neck stands on end, and I know it’s Katie. I know she’s standing right there, listening to every word I don’t mean.
Fuck.
“Good to know,” Katie says coolly.
“Shit, Katie, that wasn’t—” I backtrack immediately, knowing the irreparable damage this will have done to the small inch I’d managed to move in the right direction this week.
“We’re good. Not sure I remember asking for anything to happen between us, Jonesy. But that wouldn’t stop your ego from assuming I couldn’t possibly resist you.”
Alfie steps forward, his hands up. “Caleb and I misread the situation. We were asking Jonesy to proceed with caution for the sake of the group.”
“Proceed with caution . . .” she repeats, fire flickering behind her eyes. I’m just glad it’s aimed at him rather than me right now. His mouth gapes open, closed, open, closed. Like a flapping fish on dry land. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Alfie unsure of what to say.
“That came out wrong.” He squirms. Good.
“So you weren’t trying to dictate who I can and can’t fuck?” she says with an uneasy amount of calm in her tone. Katie Murphy is about to blow, and honestly, she looks so fucking good right now, I can’t bear to look away.
“Well . . . I just thought for the sake of the group—” His eyes skate around the room looking for any kind of tactical support. No way I’m stepping into this one when I’ve already said something stupid.