Page 99 of Bad Situation

I frown and start to defend myself, because I ate an entire pork chop sandwich with French fries last night and enjoyed it. There’s nothing annoying about the way I eat.

But he doesn’t let me get a word in and unbuckles me, dragging me across his lap.

“Hey,” I complain but he throws a heavy arm over my lap and reaches around to grab my jean-clad ass.

“What you did for my folks over the past few days is too much, but it’s you. We’ll work something out because I can’t let you do it all.”

“But I want to do it,” I insist and hate that this is an argument. “I want to do it for you.”

His jaw that hasn’t been shaved since last week relaxes and he lowers his voice. “I know you do, baby. Which is why I’m letting you, but we can work it out and do it together.” He pulls me tighter into his lap.

I sigh and sink into him. “Okay.”

He shakes his head. “How did I get you out of such a fucked-up situation?”

I bite back a smile. “My mom would say that someone hit you over the head with a lucky stick.”

“Baby.” He dips a hand in my hair and leans in to kiss me. “You’re Jensen Montgomery. I don’t feel like I got hit with a stick. With you, I feel like I ran into a damn brick wall.”

“You really know how to charm a woman.”

He turns smug. “You like it.”

I feel my face soften. “It surprises even me, but I think I love it.”

He stills for a moment before his lips find mine. When he lets me come up for air, he tips his forehead and his breath is heavy on my face. “Baby, I just love you.”

My breath vanishes. My eyes well. My heart swells.

No. My heart bursts.

“Really?” I’m not sure why I ask that. He looks as serious as the situation we just left in Chicago and the one that’s still brewing in Dallas.

He shakes his head, the action conflicting with his words. “You’ve knocked me on my ass and I’m happy to stay there if it means you’re in my life for good.”

My tears spill and I fall into him, pressing my face into his neck, where I’d be content for the rest of my days.

“I love you, too,” I murmur into his skin.

And that’s where we stay for most of the flight until I hear Eli’s stomach growl and he deems it time to raid the kitchenette and see what people eat on private jets.

*****

Eli

“I’ll be here. See you then.”

No way am I thanking OPR for calling to make an appointment with me next week. They’re flying from headquarters to question me about my relationship with Jen and other issues in our office. They didn’t come right out and say it was the Bree Newman issue, but I know it is.

I’m back at work. Jen and I returned from Chicago last night. Never thought the weight of the world would feel a little more comfortable on my shoulders after she learned about all the shit happening with my family, but it is. Seeing Jen with my dad tore me apart and glued me back together all at the same time. I didn’t grow up with a lot, but we also didn’t need any more than we had. I had two parents who expected a shit-ton out of me and, by doing that, showed their love. It might’ve been a strict love that came with an occasional wooden spoon, but it was love all the same and I always felt it.

Kills me to see my dad falling to his disease. I break even deeper that I can’t do more for them on a daily basis. It wasn’t safe for me to go to them when I was working undercover and that’s when he was diagnosed. By the time I got out, he was basically gone to us—it progressed faster than normal and they didn’t get him diagnosed quick enough for the early meds to help slow the ugly illness. I was too late. It’s like he died but he didn’t and I missed his last days but got to show up for the aftermath in hell.

“Fuck you!”

“What the hell’s going on?” Dean mutters from his cubicle.

“Keep your fucking hands off me, asshole!”

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