Page 44 of Unexpectedly Falling
You’re happy with your life—you don’t need a man or family because you can’t give that to him.
The sob that threatens to escape has me turning on my heels and racing quietly down the hall to the bathroom. I need the water to drown out my cries, and I need the solitude of this moment to get myself together.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
Jensen Kade wasn’t supposed to happen and I’d be smart to let him go—let any hope this could be something more go like the soap swirling the drain.
22
JENSEN
Things with Nessa have been off since my double shift that left me passed out on the couch with Remi. Thankfully, my daughter had bounced back to normal fairly quickly, and after ajust in casecall to the pediatrician, I felt a little more confident that I might be figuring out this parenting thing.
Things with Ness, on the other hand, had only gotten worse. At first I thought the teasing had gone too far. The sexual tension between us has been simmering since the moment I first saw her until it had damn near bubbled over in the kitchen.
And then I’d pushed her—I hadn’t meant to but I was tired and frustrated and hated that she’d reduced that moment between us tonothing.
Now like the flip of a coin, she’s turned on the celebrity with her fake smile and rehearsed lines. She’s not herself here except when she’s with Remi—definitely not with me.
I hate it.
And I shouldn’t because I’ve already asked too much of her, and she’s beenexplicitin telling me that she has no plans—no desire—to leave her life in Nashville.
This is temporary.
“Hey.” Her voice is quiet, tentative, as she comes into the kitchen, lingering on the other side of the island.
Away from me.
“Hey, there’s a plate for you in the microwave if you want it.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to.”
You shouldn’t have.
My shoulders slump as I read between the lines and run my hand through my hair. I need a haircut, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“I’ll—” My eyelids fall shut and it takes more effort than I’d like to admit to force them open again. She didn’t ask for this and I’m making it fucking awkward.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her small hand grips my forearm belying the strength within her.
“Nothing.”
“Jensen.” Her fingers run through the strands of my hair. “When was the last time you had this cut?”
“I don’t know.” I admit my eyes close as she continues her ministrations. Just having her touch me seems to settle some of the chaos in my mind.
“I could do it for you.”
My eyes open slowly to meet her azure ones. They’re bright but tired, and I can only imagine what she sees in return.
“Are you any good?” I ask, my lips quirking up a little on one side, to let her know I’m joking—mostly—as I arch an eyebrow and wait.
She shrugs, her palm sliding over my jaw, down the side of my neck and over my shoulder, sending sparks of awareness through me.
I expect to see regret when I look at her—regret for touching me, for offering—but all I see is sincerity.
