Page 18 of Sinful Like Us
We share a long look.
It’s going to be a horrible two months—and the worst part—maybe I am hoping I get hurt. Because if Tony is actually bad at his job, those two months could be cut short in an instant.
4
THATCHER MORETTI
ONE WEEK LATER
I haven’t seenJane sinceearlythis morning. Hell, we’ve barely talked all day. I missed four of her texts while I was on-duty. She’s missed three of my calls.
Don’t think about it.
Fuck that—she isallI’m thinking about.
Jane Cobalt is still in every compartment of my brain, and I’m not looking to cut her out. I’m not looking to shut down or shove off without her, but ever since I moved in a week ago, we’ve been zigzagging in the fucking opposite direction and not meeting at the same point.
Missed calls.
Brief texts.
Gaping silence.
I’m not her bodyguard anymore. Distance between us is territory I expected to cross, but I’m afraid this isn’t due to our fucked circumstances.
I stand next to a wooden stool at an old South Philly sports bar, too tensed to sit, and while I change the frequency on my radio, my breath tightens in my chest. Like an iron fist squeezing my ribcage.
Banks smacks my flexed abs before sliding on a barstool. “She’d call you if something bad went down. Just take the silence as a gift.”
I narrow my gaze on my radio. “It’s not a gift. Silence from Jane is a fucking omen.” I tune into Epsilon’s frequency, and I look over at my twenty-eight-year-old brother.
Banks Moretti.
My identical twin, my soul and conscience, someone I couldn’t live without. The sun could be crashing down on the world, and Banks would be right by my side burning alive to push it back into the sky.
He leans forward on his stool to tie his boot. Dog tags clink together around his neck, which he’s worn since the media and security team discovered we were in the Marine Corps. “You think something’s wrong?”
“I have a bad feeling.” I shake my head, neck stiff, and I keep my voice low. “Since we got together, I feel like she’s holding me at a distance.” I re-clip the mic on the collar of my black shirt and fix my earpiece.
He sticks a toothpick in his mouth, frowning. “You two haven’t had sex since you moved in?”
I meet his eyes. “We’ve had sex every night.”
“Then what are you worried about? Because it seems like she’s holding you pretty fucking close.” The corner of his lip rises but then falls at the sight of my dark frown.
The physical part of our relationship was always going to be easy. But to push through the bad in her life, she closes off emotionally to a lot of people. So do I, and I’ve struggled to be emotionally available to girlfriends in the past.
But while we were fake-dating and sneaking around, we found an indescribable solace together. Point-blank, I wanted to tear myself open for Jane. No matter how brutal and gut-wrenching.
I wanted andwantto keep her safe from every cruel thing.
I’m the only person she’s confided in that intensely about Nate, her fucking ex-friends-with-benefits. She’s theonlyperson I’ve confided in that deeply about Skylar, my older brother who passed away.
I’m head-deep, un-fucking-believably in love with this girl, and I would do anything for her. What’s been gutting me is that I can sense her nerves. Jane is confident as all hell, but in the past week, sometimes she’ll drop her gaze from me. I can’t tell if it’s what her parents said about moving in together too fast or if her brothers have questioned her decisions and she’s doubting everything.
This kind of commitment isn’t easy for Jane. I know that, at least. She’s used to keeping men at arm’s length, emotionally. I think it’s partly why she’s only had friends-with-benefits.
Just sex.
