Page 69 of Bad Situation

I don’t spare him a glance.

Eli holds out a hand for me, but I ignore it. When I press my body into his, he wraps me up in his arms and I feel his lips press to the top of my head where he utters, “You want me to take you home?”

I nod into his chest as my mom pleads, “Honey, don’t leave. Stay so we can talk this through.”

I shake my head and turn to look at her. “I’m done, Mom. I’m done doing what everyone demands. Give Jordy and Cara a hug and tell them I’ll try to get out to see them this week.”

“Jenny,” my dad calls and this time his voice isn’t angry. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard my father desperate for anything. When I turn to look at him, I find I’m right when his demand turns to a plea. “Stay.”

I don’t answer. I look up at the man who’s not a secret any longer and make it clear to everyone where I stand. “Take me home.”

“Here,” Ellie butts in and shoves my bag toward me. “I’ll call you later and you’d better answer your damn phone.”

I take my bag and don’t look back as I leave my childhood home tucked tight to my federal agent.

Chapter 18

Simple

Jen

I open my eyes and glance at the clock. It’s seven-o-six. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late on a Monday.

Last night on the drive home from the ranch, I told Eli everything and not just about my dad’s anger. I basically had a verbal hemorrhage and unloaded. I explained how growing up as a Montgomery might have been a cushy gig in some ways—showered with everything under the sun and wanting for nothing, but it also came with expectations that were nothing short of perfection. I cried when I explained how jealous I was of Cam and his independence. How Ellie, even in her shitty marriage, is able to keep our parents at an arm’s length. And finally, how, as much as I love my parents and despite how they raised us, there are days I secretly can’t wait for my father to step down.

For the first time in my life, I uttered the words out loud for someone else to hear. Either he needs to allow me to take over like he’s planned all these years or I’m gone. As much as I don’t want to, I’ll take my knowledge somewhere else. Or, better yet, start my own company.

That made me think of Patrick and I cried all over again.

Eli took it all and never judged me once. He held my hand, kissed my fingers, and, when I finally gave him an opening to say anything, he’d mutter how everything is going to be okay.

When we got back to my condo, he made me scrambled eggs after I mentioned I hadn’t eaten all day.

Through all this, he only complained once when he realized I didn’t have any cheese and informed me he was going to buy me, in his words, some fucking groceries because no one should be expected to live on hummus alone.

Darkness had fallen and the only light outside my floor-to-ceiling windows was that of downtown Dallas looking in on us like an audience to my freak show. Eli put me to bed, stripped down to his boxers, and climbed in after me.

That’s where I fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, a tank top, and carrying all my grief that has settled into my gut so deep, I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to normal.

As I lay here in bed alone missing the only person who’s been a balm to my pain, I hear the water to my shower turn off.

My phone vibrates on my nightstand. Instead of doing what I normally do when I’m anxious for information and answers to shit that I usually make a priority, I ignore it.

When Eli walks out of my bathroom with nothing but a thick white towel wrapped low on his hips, I’m glad I did.

“Did I wake you?” he asks as he rubs a hand towel over his hair and face, tossing it to my floor.

I don’t move but my eyes follow the water droplets chasing one another down his broad chest and abs before getting eaten up by the towel. I shake my head and tell him the truth. “I don’t know. I don’t remember the last time I’ve slept this late on a weekday but, really, I think I missed you. And I’m not used to having anyone else in my shower, so there’s that.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips and he settles on the side of the bed pressed against my hip. He pushes my messy hair out of my face. I don’t even want to think about what I look like after all the tears I shed yesterday. I bet my face looks like I’ve had an allergic reaction—which is how I feel. I think I’m allergic to life outside of Elijah Pettit.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

I give my head a shake. “I don’t know what to do. I need to go to work. I need to see Patrick’s wife and daughter. I need to call Lehmans. I need to set things straight with my dad but I don’t want to do any of that.”

He nods. “I just got off the phone with headquarters. You might want to call your attorneys first.”

My face falls. “Why?”

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