Page 29 of Compassion

Look, I fucking tried, okay? My people skills are a little rusty. Fuck. Fine. Really fucking rusty but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try to be friendly or flirty. And I didn’t mean to be rude. Or hurt her feelings. Or deny her the chance she desperately wants to be something more than the woman with the fresh trash and guy who eats it. I did my best and like everything else in my life, it wasn’t good enough. I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough. To be adopted into a family. To be promoted high in the ranks. To be loved for more than the tags around my neck. Not once have I ever been good enough, so why did I think because some brown eyed beauty looked at me like I could give her the world that for a second I believed I could? I’ll tell you why. Because hope is the most dangerous drug of them all. Far more addicting than any substance you could ever smoke or inject and much more fatal. I thought I’d given that shit up a long time ago. Guess I made the mistake of having another hit tonight. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to properly purge that shit from my system in the morning before I disappear out of her life forever.

Chapter 7

Jaye

You’re not still fussing at me for letting a complete stranger spend the night in my home, are you? You should definitely just give that shit a rest! Seriously. I’m fine. I know I look cute and sweet and like I scream easy target, but I’m not. I sleep with my Beretta within arms’ reach. I go to the shooting range with Dad for target practice every six weeks. And we clean our firearms together afterwards while cookies bake. I swear, I’m good in that aspect, but even if I weren’t, it wouldn’t have mattered last night. He didn’t make a single sound after he closed himself inside the garage. Not. Fucking. One. Do I wish he had? Yes. Do I wish he had needed something else so that he had another excuse to talk to me rather than shut down? Ugh. I hate to admit it, but yes. And you wanna know what’s the weirdest thing about this whole situation - putting aside of course the obvious portion of inviting some stranger to stay warm in my home. Last night’s dinner was…ohmygod, I’m really gonna say this, aren’t I? Okay. Last night’s dinner was the best date – or date adjacent meal – I’ve ever had.Ever.Even me and Chris’s first date – or date like situation – wasn’t that smooth. Or smiley. Fuck, I couldn’t stop smiling during pretty much the whole damn thing. What is wrong with me? Seriously. Am I just that…lonely? Am I just that afraid of turning into the nursery rhyme about the little old woman who lived in a shoe?

I’ve just finished adjusting the sleeves on my chunky, light gray sweater when my cellphone starts buzzing across my nightstand. Always happy to see my dad’s face on the screen, I quickly answer it in a cheerful tone, “Good morning, Dad!”

“Good morning, sugar.” The term of endearment warms me up further. “You doing okay after that storm?”

Huh.

I did better with it last night than I have in the past.

Was it because of Archer or am I reaching?

“Yeah. I’m okay. Gonna make some breakfast. Go in a little later than normal. Let the roads thaw a bit and get driven on first.”

“I’m glad your boss understands your situation.”

I have a hard time driving on icy roads since Chris’s death. Period. You saw me last night. The truth is…most of the time, I won’t even get behind the wheel of my car. Thankfully, Presley’s completely aware of the situation, my discomfort, and added an amendment to my contract that allows me an automatic pass for life to be late or call in on such days without penalty. I do my best never to take advantage of her kindness. You know…sort of like Archer wasn’t trying to take advantage of mine despite what you might think.

“Speaking of situations,” the segue is swift, “how’s the one with your friend?”

My lip slips between my teeth on a less than innocent hum. “Hm?”

“Pizza Dude?”

God, I am not good in a crisis.

“Is Pizza Dude still there?” There’s a small rustling that informs me he’s shifting his grip on his device. “Is he being…respectful?”

Not surprised that he knows or by his interrogation, I sweetly smile. “Yes, to both.”

“Is he beinggrateful?”

“Extremely.”

“Is he aware you’re locked, loaded, and capable of lining up his organs alphabetically?”

Giggles helplessly fall free. “Yes.”

“Good.” The short pause is followed by a warm sigh. “Promise me you’ll shoot first and call for assistance later if necessary.”

“Dad.”

“Sugar, I know my little girl. I know you would climb to the top of a mountain in your flip-flops to save a helpless rabbit if you thought it needed it. And maybe the rabbit does but that doesn’t mean I want you to put yourself at risk topossiblysave someone else.”

“Are you aware of the irony in the statement, Lieutenant Jenkins?”

“I am,” he lightly chortles, “however, I signed up to do that shit for a paycheck. You get paid toreadbooks about rabbits, not save them.”

In some ways Archer really is that rabbit. Trapped on top of a snowy mountain. Scared. Alone. Lost. I know all he needs is someone to care. I can see it. I can…feel it.

“Jaye.”

The realization I’ve been quiet for too long has me shaking my head to snap back to the present moment. “I promise to let you know if I need anything.”

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