Page 8 of Jessica's Hero
A flicker of a thought races through my head—call Oliver to come out and provide backup.
But really? Off a weird hunch and an idling car that probably means nothing?
No. I’m certain it’s fine. Setting my shoulders and straightening my posture, I rap on the driver’s side window in a quick, staccato rhythm.
As I wait for the driver to respond, my hand tightens around the handle of my gun.
Then the window rolls down, revealing a woman’s tear-stained face.
But not just any woman. Jessica.Jess.
She looks at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes. Wetstrands of dark hair are stuck to her cheeks and forehead. Her chin wobbles as she says, “I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to park here?”
The alarm bells that started ringing as soon as I saw her car keep chiming, but now for a different reason.
I’d put money—lots of it—on Jess not being a threat. Not sweet, quietly funny Jess, who never has a mean word to say about anyone. Not Jess, who’s clearly uncomfortable talking to people, but always has a smile whenever we run into each other in town. Who never fails to ask me about my job and hiking and the sci-fi movies I admitted liking during one particularly long conversation.
But something is still very wrong.
Why is she sitting in her car crying? Outside the police station, no less?
Gentling my voice, I reply, “No, you’re allowed to park here. I just saw the car all fogged up and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “God. This is so embarrassing. I should have just gone home. I just—” Her voice breaks. “I… I don’t know what to do.”
Shit. If this was any crying woman, I’d be concerned. But with it being someone I know, someone I like… my protective instincts come roaring forward.
“Jess, what happened?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’ll… I’ll…” Trailing off, she hugs herself, shivering and looking smaller than I’ve ever seen her.
“Why don’t we go inside?” I offer. “We can talk in my?—”
“No. I don’t want to go in there.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “They don’t want me there, anyway.”
What?
That doesn’t make any sense.
But she’s crying. I’m not going to push her. “How about Sleepless Nights?” I gesture with my chin towards the little coffee shop at the other end of the parking lot. Having gone there a lot since I started working here, I know it’s open until ten PM, which gives us plenty of time to sit down and talk.
“I can’t,” Jessica says. “Not like this.” She gestures at her face, then swipes away a few tears.
Out of the blue, I’m struck by the wildest desire.
I want to take care of her.
I want to wipe away her tears. Help her out of the car and hug her until she stops crying. Find out who upset her and kick the shit out of them.
But obviously, I can’t do any of those things. So, instead, I just ask, “How about if we talk in the car? If you don’t mind me sitting in there with you? I mean, you know me, so you don’t have to worry…”
Jess lets out a short laugh. “I’m not worried, Kane. I know you wouldn’t do anything… inappropriate.”
Do fantasies about kissing Jess qualify as inappropriate? I’ve never acted on them, but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what it would be like to feel her full lips pressed to mine. Especially that time I saw her at the Halloween Fest last year and she had just taken a sip of beer and had a touch of foam on her upper lip that was just calling to me to lick it off.
I didn’t. For the record. I just thought about it.
But that’s not important right now.
