Page 203 of Tangled Like Us
The end.We’ve reached it. And I hate it.
Jane keeps two hands on her hat. Still eyeing my costume, she says in thought, “I realize we weren’t ever given the chance to wear couple costumes, so at the time, I hadn’t considered what you and I would be.” She pauses. “But now I think I know what I would’ve loved…”
Our gazes latch for a strong beat.
Very softly, she says, “You would’ve been my Tarzan, and I would’ve been your Jane.”
It slams into me. Thewould’ve been. And the feeling that she might be open to more. Is that my role in her fucking life—I just prepared her heart for some other man?
I nod a few times. A pit in my ribs. “I wanted that too.”
“Bien,” she says, wiping the crease of her eye.
It’s killing me. “Jane,” I say deeply.
“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”
Not possible.“I’m your bodyguard, honey.” I gently pull off her boot, and I see heartache filling her eyes. She clutches my muscular shoulder for support.
“I’m not trying to make this harder for you,” she whispers, wide-eyed. “It’s not my intention. I know there’s no way we can have everything, and I don’t want to be unfair to you.”
I clutch her green-painted cheek. “You’re not, Jane.” I suddenly sense movement coming in on my three o’clock, and I drop my hand off her face.
My expression hardens as I watch actors in masks wield chainsaws and chase two zombie girls in our direction.
My head is so wrapped up in my emotions, I need to keep checking myself.
Get your mind right.
Protect her. Protect her—that’s my sole duty.
The girls shriek bloody murder, running towards us, and I shoot a death glare at one of the actors who hawk-eyes Jane.
No.
If he comes over here and tries to wave a weapon at her—unchained or not—he’s on the ground. It’s too easy for a masked actor to harass a famous one under the guise ofHalloween.A clown has been trying to “poke” Luna all night, and we posted most of the extra security on her detail with Quinn.
Security Rules: SFO aren’t supposed to work events like tonight’s. It’s been a stipulation in the past, after Omega gained fame. Farrow and I are even higher on that fucking shit list for being more publicly recognizable now. But we need more eyes tonight, so the Tri-Force allowed us to go on-duty. We just had to bring twice as many temp guards along.
If I weren’t the one protecting Jane here, I’d be going out of my fucking mind.
The actor sees me and lifts up his growling chainsaw, high-tailing his ass toward the crate of floating apples. He scares off the cluster of fairies.
Focusing back on her ankle, I gently slip off her untied boot. Her ankle is swollen. I study the wince in her bunched brows. Her jaw sets like she bites down pain.
I just want to comfort her in any way I can. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.” The words come out, and my chest knots. Whatever hard call I make soon, I feel like I’m hurting Jane. She loses a bodyguard or she loses a boyfriend.
I can’t be both to her anymore, and even now, it’s only halfway. Rules and red tape and 3 a.m. closing hours.
“You’re not,” she says quickly, exactly what I just said to her.You’re not being unfair to me, Jane. You’re not hurting me, Thatcher.
But this is unfair to us and it is hurting us, and I rake a hand through my hair. “If you can’t walk, I’m going to carry you.” I peel a flyaway, frizzed strand of hair off her lips.
She smiles, but it fades in a thought. “Are you allowed to carry me? Didn’t security tell you that we’re supposed to appear distant for the breakup?”
Alpha and Epsilon gave me clear instructions:
Don’t be too physical with her.
