End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) (13 page)

“I-I’m at a loss for words.”

Jessica nodded. “What were the chances, right?” She shifted slightly from one foot to the other in an attempt to ease the murderous torture of her heels. “I think I’ll keep my appointment with you for next week after all.”

Luke squinted as he shook his head. “I can’t be your doctor anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

“Our friends set us up on a date tonight. We kissed. The grid of lines we’ve crossed is so far beyond ethical I can’t see straight. I’m not going to end my career over this. And you need help, but it can’t be me. I’ll refer you to someone else, but—”

“Someone else?” Jessica’s voice strained in disbelief against her wavering anger. “I’m not doing this shit again. I’ve spent the past three months with you. Opening up to you. Being
studied
by you. Now I’m just supposed to start over?”

“It wouldn’t be like that.” Luke pushed off the door.

Jessica retreated a step in response.

“I’d bring your new doctor up to speed on our progress—”

“Progress? Really? Have you looked in the mirror? Do you call that progress?”

“I can’t see you. Period.”

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t see me as my doctor or—”

“At all.” Luke’s words held a cold finality. “I’m not an ER doctor that stitched up your wound. I’m a psychiatrist and in my profession it’s not ethical to get personally involved with patients—not during treatment and not even after the professional relationship has been terminated.”

“But you kissed me back.”

He shook his head, squinting a bit. “I should not have.”

Jessica drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, willing what was happening to just stop. She needed him and she had to make him see that. “I’ll never forget how her body looked drained of its blood.”

“Jessica, don’t. I’m not your doctor anymore.” Luke opened the front door.

Memories of that crippling fear seized her body. She opened her eyes and stared at an imperfection in the dark wood floor next to a small steel-framed credenza. “He always wore combat fatigues with brown boots. I estimated his shoe size to be a ten from the blood-stamped boot prints on the floor.”

“Jessica! Stop. Now.”

“That’s what I said … every time he’d cut her. He was in control, total control. And when he’d start to lose it, he’d cut her again. Just the sight of it calmed him. I don’t remember when I stopped crying and started placing bets with myself as to where he would cut her next. Every time I guessed correctly I felt stronger as Claire became weaker. It was as if I was taking his control. If I could predict his next move I could save us, get us out of there.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t—I
won’t
do this with you. Call my office on Monday and Eve will give you a referral.” Luke grabbed her arm.

It took a moment for Jessica to register what he was doing and by the time she did, the door was closed and she was on the opposite side. She rested her cheek and flattened her hands against it. The magnetism to Luke was more than she could resist. He had something so vital to her survival that walking away would feel like a slow death.

“He was her boyfriend. Claire had met him online. They dated over the internet for almost a year before they decided to meet. He wanted to wait until she was eighteen so Claire asked me to drive down to San Diego with her on her birthday. It was the summer between our junior and senior year. I didn’t turn eighteen until that October.” A lone tear smeared down her cheek. “Luke?” she whispered, closing her eyes.

She sucked in a shaky breath. “Our parents thought we were going to LA for a concert. Jude was the only person who knew where we were going. Claire didn’t know I told him, but I did. Jude and I don’t keep secrets; we never have.” She opened her eyes and started sliding her fingernail along the grooves of the woodgrain door.

“It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but when I tried to warn Claire she berated me for being so judgmental. The houses were all small and rundown with cars parked on the streets and so much junk in the driveways it looked like everyone was having a rummage sale. Four lived in a green house with half the siding ripped off, an old brown stained sofa on the weathered gray porch, and the storm door with ripped screen that rattled on its loose hinges like an earthquake every time the wind gusted.”

Jessica chuckled, the trail of her lone tear washed away by an uncontrollable flood of many more. She missed Claire. Every. Single. Day. “You want to know what was so ironic? When the police told Claire’s parents, they visibly relaxed with relief that she hadn’t been raped. She bled out of her femoral artery in just under two minutes, yet her parents were relieved that she died a virgin. How fucked-up is that?” She sniffled. “I know what you’re thinking: not nearly as fucked-up as me.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Could he possibly know that she never let anyone see this vulnerability?

Without warning, the door disappeared. Jessica stumbled to the ground, quick hands saving her from a face-plant by less than an inch. Those same quick hands pulled her to her feet.

Luke sighed and waited for her amber eyes to find his through her long wet lashes. “When I’m the most overeducated barista at Starbucks you’d better come in every day to remind me why I trashed my career. And since you’ll be the most psychologically stable actuary in the history of the profession, you’d better leave me one helluva tip.”

Jessica nodded while wiping her tears. Relief mingled between her laughter and sobs. “I’m sorry I bit you. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” Luke framed her petite face in his strong hands. “Because if it does I’ll have you muzzled, put in a straitjacket, and committed to a mental institute. Are we clear?”

She swallowed with a slow nod. “Dr. Jo—”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not your doctor. You will see me
here
three times a week, no more no less. You will clean my apartment and tell me about your past. I will listen and offer
friendly
advice. There will never be an exchange of money. You will never come to my office again. You will never tell anyone. As far as Gabe and Kelly are concerned, we just didn’t have that much in common. Are. We. Clear?”

“Can I call you Jones … just Jones. I like it.”

“No.”

Jessica sighed. “You’re no fun.” She pulled from his grasp and opened the door.

“Jessica?”

“Yes?” She turned.

“That’s another thing this will not be.”

“Huh?”

“
Fun.
”

Knight

J
illian finished installing
the handicap bar minutes after ending her story for the day.

“Hey, look at that!” Dodge stood in the doorway admiring Jillian’s handy work.

“I think she’ll be able to use the bathroom by herself now.”

“Thank God for that. There’s nothing worse than pulling her ass off the toilet after she’s shot out one of them toxic loads. I think them meds are messing with her plumbing. I sure as shit won’t miss breaking that seal.”

Jillian looked at Lilith who was smiling at her without regard for Dodge’s crude and cruel comment. “Your husband doesn’t think his shit stinks. Typical guy.” Jillian winked at Dodge.

“Come here. I want to show you something before you go.” Dodge waved Jillian toward the back door.

“Bye, Lilith.” Jillian helped her up from the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” Lilith said, and it was the first time Jillian heard her speak.

“You’re welcome.” Jillian gave her hand a little squeeze.

As soon as she opened the garage door, Jillian froze—speechless.

“Just got the new rims on today. What do you think?” Dodge sat in a golf cart that occupied its own garage stall. But it wasn’t just any golf cart. It was red with a white top, red and white painted rims, custom white leather seats with a red N stitched into the back of them. The rest of the body looked like the Cornhusker apparel store exploded onto it—decals, a flag, and a built-in Cornhusker cooler on the back.

“Wow, it’s … wow. I didn’t know you golfed.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

Jillian raised her eyebrows. “Um, okay so what’s with the
golf
cart?”

“I’m a Cornhusker fan.”

She laughed. “I can see that.”

“My knees have gone to shit so I use her to get around the development. Mainly to get the mail and stuff like that.”

Jillian peeked around the garage door opening to the grouping of mailboxes. “Yeah, that has to be a good fifteen … twenty yard walk.”

“Nineteen and a half to be exact. Stan measured it for me awhile back. We were just curious.”

“And you pack a cooler to get the mail?”

Dodge grinned. “Nah. I sit out here with Stan and shoot the breeze or watch the games.” He gestured to the TV in the corner of the garage. “Sometimes I take a cold one down to Stan when he’s working outside—hand trimming his lawn or sweeping the street with his big push broom.”

Jillian smiled. She didn’t just relocate to Nebraska, she landed on an entirely different planet called Peaceful Woods, which ironically had no woods at all, rather small algae-infested ponds behind each grouping of townhomes.

“Well, I’m going to head home now.”

“Want a ride?”

“No … I’m good.” She winked at Dodge who had retrieved a beer from his cooler.

“Beer for the road?”

Jillian didn’t have to sell sex toys that night so she shrugged. “Why not. Thanks.”

Dodge tossed her a can. “Thanks again for everything, young lady.”

“You’re welcome.” She raised her can to him before heading down the street. After popping the top, she took a big gulp. It was cold and tasted only mildly gross after her long and unexpectedly emotional day with AJ, then reminiscing about her blind date with Dr. Luke Jones.

“Jillian,” a familiar voice called as she neared her driveway. Cage stood behind a grill.

“Hey, early dinner?”

He smirked. “Late lunch.”

“Whatcha grilling?”

“Steaks and not the kind made from soybeans, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m good.” She held up her can of beer before taking another sip.

Cage laughed. “Looks healthy.”

“How’s the big guy?”

He flipped the steaks and closed the lid. “Grumpy. He didn’t end up going into work today so now he feels guilty.”

Jillian handed Cage the rest of her beer. “Here, drink up. I’ll go cheer him up.”

Cage sat in the folding chair next to the grill and tipped back the can for a long swig. “Good luck with that. I don’t think you bring out the best in him.”

Jillian turned before opening the door to the house. “Really?” she asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Cage chuckled. “Really.”

She shut the door and padded down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Better not be burning my steak,” AJ called from the kitchen with his back to Jillian as he sliced vegetables and slid them off the cutting board into a large salad bowl.

“I love how protective you are of your meat,” she whispered, sliding her hands under his shirt and around front to his chest.

AJ stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to un-grump you.”

He turned. “That’s not a word.”

She stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter. “Thanks for the grammar tip. How are you feeling?”

He cleared his throat and turned back around to continue working on the salad. “About that. What happened earlier … it shouldn’t have happened.”

She rubbed her forehead. Jillian wasn’t sure when she became such a guilty pleasure, but she had always been Luke’s, and AJ, with that statement, joined the list too. “Because …?”

“Because I have a date tonight.”

She pushed off the counter. “Well, that must mean you’re feeling better. Good for you.” She headed to the back door. “I have one too.” The statement came out of nowhere, an ego knee-jerk reaction, but it was too late. She had to own it.

AJ started to say something, but she shut the door before he could finish.

“Hey, young buck. What are your plans tonight?”

Cage retrieved the steaks from the grill, setting them onto a plate. “Not sure yet. Why?”

“I think you should take me around town and show me the nightlife in Omaha. What do you say?” She continued walking to her house.

“Like a date?”

Jillian grinned to herself. “If your dad asks, then yes—definitely a date.”

“Will I be getting lucky tonight?”

A giggle bubbled from her chest. “Sorry.”

“But I don’t have to tell my dad that, right?”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

*

“Jills, get your
ass down here. I need to hit something.”

Jillian rolled her eyes, smirking as she slipped off her shoes. “Let me change my clothes,
Jacks
.” After a quick change, she joined her brother downstairs for some friendly sparring.

“My four o’clock student raped my piano. I didn’t think it was possible for such a hideous sound to come out of Black Beauty.”

“You named your piano?”

“Yes. Hit me.”

Jillian pulled one arm across her body then the other, stretching her shoulders. “Anxious?”