Page 34 of When We Collide

“We leave in ten minutes. Pack a bag.” I tell her before I turn to walk out of the room to call my superiors and inform them that Jeyla will be coming with me.

Fuck my life.

That’s going to be a fun conversation. I’m fortunate that Jeyla has been somewhat kind to my bollocks, my COA on the other hand will show no such empathy at having a civilian at his airbase, especially while we’re amid preparing for an important operation.

“I needyou to go and join mum, dad and Ash in the safehouse until this is over.” The urgency in my voice is palpable as I speak to my brother on the phone. With a sigh, I lean against my car, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

“All right, send me the details and I’ll pack up a bag and go as soon as I get home.” Oscar's reply comes through the speaker, his voice laced with concern despite his best effort to conceal it.

While Jeyla was giving her statement about what happened, Oscar had been with Lex at the vet arranging for his cremation. It makes my stomach churn with guilt knowing I’m responsible for him getting shot. I mean, Lex was doing what any loyal dog would have done and protected his owner. I just wish it hadn’t cost him his life. I bought him as a three-month anniversary gift for Jeyla, but now, just a year later, he’s gone. Just another thing that Jeyla loved and has been tragically taken from her.

“Do you really think it’s wise to be taking Jeyla with you, Dean?” Oscar questions, breaking through my thoughts. I look over at Jeyla sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat and shake my head.

“No, it’s not wise at all. If I had my way she would be as far away as I could possibly have her from all of this,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “But you know how infuriatingly stubborn Jeyla can be when she’s set her mind on something. At least she'll be safe at the airbase, and I can keep an eye on her.”

“How is she?”

With a resigned sigh I stare at the empty road ahead. “Not great,” I affirm sadly. “I think she hates me more now than ever, and rightfully so. It kills me to see her so devastated and I feel so fucking helpless.”

“Jeyla can’t hate you, Dean. You could tie her up, douse her in petrol and set her on fire, and she would still forgive you. What you saw today is only the tip of the iceberg of what Jeyla had to endure every single day after she was told you had died.”

“She told me she wished that I had stayed dead.” Just recalling those words sends a pain through my heart.

“Come on Dean, you know she doesn’t mean that.”

“I know that.” I reply, unable to hold back annoyance. Does he really believe he knows her better than I do? “Doesn’t make it hurt any less though. Even if her feelings and resentment are completely justified, hearing those words from the woman you love still cuts deep.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” Oz coincides. “But you can’t hold anything she says in a moment of grief against her, Dean. When she calms down, she’ll apologise. Or you’ll find a way to make her. You always do.”

If only it were that simple, but it’s not. Not this time.

The car rideis quiet as we drive down the winding roads, the only sound being the soft purr of the engine. We haven’t spoken a word in almost ten miles when suddenly, Jeyla's voice breaks through the silence.

“Dean,” she says, her tone hesitant.

I glance at her before looking at the road again, waiting for her to continue.

“I want you to teach me how to use a gun.”

My eyes widen in surprise, and I fix her with a side long stare. The fuck did she just say? Did I just hear her correctly?

“You want me to what?” I ask, needing clarification.

Jeyla's determination grows stronger, her tone an octave higher and tinged with a touch of annoyance as she repeats herself. “I want you to teach me how to use a gun.”

“Yeah, I thought that's what I heard you say,” I reply with a shake of my head. “And over my dead body are you touching a gun.”

“Why the hell not?” Jeyla argues back, shifting in her seat to face me directly.

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel as frustration simmers within me. “What possible reason would you need to know how to use a gun, JJ?”

Jeyla's green eyes narrow as she meets my gaze with an unwavering stare. “Oh, well let's see,” she responds sarcastically, “a bunch of armed men busted through my front door, took my son and shot my dog. I'm thinking I could use some protectionin case any more enemies of yours decide they want to pay us a visit.”

I can’t exactly deny the logic behind her argument, but it still doesn’t sit right with me. “What do you think this is, the bloody States?” I snap. “You can't just walk into a shop and buy a firearm here, JJ. It's illegal and it can be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Do you think it’s easy pulling that trigger and taking another person’s life? Whether they are the bad guys or not that shit stays with you. Are you prepared to live with that?”

Jeyla's jaw clenches as she retorts, her voice sharp and edged with frustration. “I need to feel safe in my own home, Dean. Which I no longer do. Besides, you have a gun, why can’t I use one of yours?”

I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with her. Jeyla owning a gun? It’s out of the fucking question.

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