6. Two Questions

SIX

TWO QUESTIONS

W hen we got back to the Oasis, Raye went straight to her pad and her hot guy, and Luna came with me to my place to borrow some porn.

As for Harlow, she went right home because it was past her bedtime.

My best chick was an early to bed, early to rise type of girl, even if her shift didn’t start until eleven.

This was because, if she didn’t go to bed at 9:00, she wouldn’t wake up at 5:00 or 6:00, allowing her time to journal, make a complicated and highly nutritional smoothie, hit an early yoga or Pilates class, or that shit women did when they were trussed up to bungee cords and they bounced around a studio. Then she’d go home, make herself some oatmeal with berries or overnight oats with other healthy shit in it, tidy her house or clean a room, take a shower, perform makeup miracles, pick the perfect cute outfit, and hit SC. Always on time.

That was Harlow.

And it was awesome.

But knowing Harlow’s parents, particularly her ballbuster of a mother, it was also something else.

As for Luna, whose shift started at 7:00 a.m., so she had to be up super early just to make it in, it was totally her, when I offered a cocktail after she hit my pad, she accepted and settled in to gab with me until her glass was empty.

She then took her comics and boogied.

This left me cleaning glasses and thinking that Eric still hadn’t touched base.

“Fuck this noise,” I muttered, snatched up my phone and pulled up my texts.

He was a big boy. It was late, but if he was incommunicado for the night, he’d silence his notifications.

But I wasn’t playing this game.

Therefore, I texted, What happened to “tonight?”

The whoosh barely sounded on the sent text before my phone was vibrating with a call.

It was Eric.

Whoa.

That was quick.

While I answered, my heart started beating hard, not only because Eric was connecting, but what it said he did it so quickly.

“Hey.”

“You home?” he asked.

Oh.

Well then.

He didn’t get in touch because he knew me and the girls were rolling that night, as he would, since Cap undoubtedly told him.

“I thought you tracked my car.”

“Your car has been sitting at the Oasis all night.”

Right.

Whoops!

He continued, “Cap said you took off in Luna’s ride then took the Kia. He hasn’t reported you’re back.”

Seemed Cap and Raye got busy when she arrived home.

Also seemed the Nightingale team knew about our storage unit setup and tracked those vehicles as well, because I hadn’t noticed Raye use her phone all night to report to Cap.

I was not mad about this.

Never hurt to have a badass (or better, half a dozen of them) keep an eye, especially when you were a totally untrained, amateur sleuth in a satin bomber jacket out interrogating skeeves.

“We’re back,” I pointed out the obvious.

“That didn’t last long.”

“We didn’t get much,” I informed him. “What about you?”

“We’ve asked around. Nothing yet. This is a hole in our operations here in Phoenix,” he shared work stuff, surprisingly openly. “We’ve known about it since we started setting up. None of our men are locals. It takes years to develop an information network in a city, and we’ve only had months. We need a local guy. We’re just having issues recruiting one who fits with the team.”

Supreme badass skills derived from time in the military or law enforcement or some other kickass former occupation, plus insane good looks, plus ridiculous sex appeal, plus complete confidence in their abilities, plus melding perfectly with the unit…

Yeah.

I could see that’d be hard to recruit.

“Raye told me the General told you that Jeff shared where I work,” I said.

His voice was sweet when he noted, “Means he’s good for now, Jess.”

My voice was quiet when I replied, “Yeah.”

More sweet when he repeated my, “Yeah.”

Man, I had to get us out of this sweet or I’d have an orgasm just talking to the guy.

“Everything go okay getting Homer and the General to the camp?” I asked.

“Nope,” he answered.

Oh shit.

“What happened?”

“The General twisted Cap up in a big way.”

Cap used to be in the Army, so I could see this. I’d never been in the Army, and he twisted me up.

“Something I’ve learned since I started this gig, Turner,” I began. “I don’t have the skills to deal with the myriad of issues they face. It sucks and sometimes it kills, but you gotta treat them like humans and turn the rest off.”

“We don’t operate that way, Jess,” Eric replied. “No way Cap was going to sit on his hands about the General. But meeting Mary kicked it over the edge.”

“Mary?”

“Mary. She’s an eighty-two-year-old great grandma who’s been on the streets about a month because she was kicked out of her apartment for not being able to make rent. She has a small retirement, and social security, it just didn’t stretch that far. She’s also got a finely honed stubborn streak and didn’t tell her kids her situation was fucked.”

I was stunned. “She’d rather live on the street than tell her children she was being evicted?”

“She doesn’t want to be a burden. The impression is, none of them are rolling in it, and they got mouths to feed. If they also had to look after her, things that are tight would get out of hand.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Cap and Mace are looking into veterans’ services to see if we can get the General into a facility that will help bring him back to himself. Cap’s also gonna get in touch with Scott and Louise to see if they can find accommodations for Mary.”

Scott and Louise, Luna’s parents, worked together at a non-profit that dealt with affordable housing and unhoused initiatives.

I’d been keeping them in my back pocket, obviously not ready to share what I was doing. But when I found Jeff, I was going to go to them and see if they could help me get him set up someplace where he didn’t have to deal with Mom and Dad, and he didn’t have to feel like a drain on me and his buds.

Eric kept talking.

“In the meantime, we gotta get Mary and her cat off the street. She risks exposure in the winter, but if she makes it through, a summer in Phoenix might end her. The men are gonna get her in a long-term hotel until something more permanent can be arranged.”

Right, the things Eric was saying were giving me that gooey feeling again, and that feeling was bad, because it felt really freaking good.

“How’re you doin’ with all this?” he asked.

“I have hope for the first time in months that my brother is okay,” I answered.

“Right,” he said, sensing I wasn’t done.

Because I wasn’t. “But he didn’t finish his pipefitter training. He’s not a warrior. He’s not a shadow soldier. When he’s experiencing an episode, he isolates himself. He gets confused easily. Once he holes up somewhere, sometimes he gets so stuck in his head, he gets so listless, he doesn’t even eat. When he talks, he doesn’t make a lot of sense. And if it’s really bad, he has hallucinations. In other words, I don’t even know what this Street Warrior thing is, but I know Jeff’s got no business being one.”

“We’ll figure it out, and we’ll get him some help,” Eric assured.

I wanted to be assured, but something was creeping up inside.

I knew what that something was, and I could not be in a conversation with Eric when I gave it free reign. When that happened, I had to be alone.

Because it never failed to devastate me.

“Jess?” Eric called.

I needed a second.

Actually, I needed to get off the phone so I could deal.

Before I could do that, Eric said, “Two questions.”

“What?” I whispered.

“Two questions. You start. Whatever you ask, I have to answer, no bullshit, no evading. Then I get two, and the same.”

Oh God.

I really wanted my two questions.

And I was terrified of his.

“Deal?” he pressed.

“Okay,” I said.

See?

I really wanted my two questions.

“Hit me,” he invited.

“Why didn’t you ever get married?” I asked something, in all his hotness, and coolness, that had been bugging me since I met him.

“Who told you I’ve never been married?” he answered.

Uh…

“No one,” I said. “I just assumed.”

“I was married for six years to a woman I met in LA. Her name’s Savannah. She was the executive chef at a hot-shit restaurant. She wanted to start her own, and I backed that play. She loved what she did and she was really good at it. I just had no idea what kind of time it would require of her, which was pretty much every hour she was awake.”

“I know something about this,” I said carefully. “Lucia, our chef at SC, used to be like that. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I’ve heard she and her husband Mario had some issues and it got rocky there for a while.”

“Yeah,” Eric confirmed, his tone weighty. “Rocky.”

Cripes.

When he didn’t keep talking, I did.

“Lucia and Mario made a deal. She comes in at six to do the prep work and start cooking, but she leaves at three. Period, dot. Though, as a family, she and Mario and their kids tend her herb garden.”

“Well, Savannah wasn’t into making a deal like that. I understood in the beginning it was going to take some concentration, commitment and a lot of work. But four years into it, and her restaurant was a commercial and critical success, I wasn’t feeling her being dead to the world when I got up and took off for work, and having her wake me up at two so I could fuck her before she passed out when she got home.”

Well, that was honest.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a fulfilling relationship,” I muttered.

“It wasn’t.”

“She wasn’t willing to compromise?”

“When I broached it, she told me that I was trying to force a double standard on her. I didn’t have a nine to five job, why did I expect that of her? She’s right. I didn’t have a nine to five job. But I also didn’t work sixteen-hour days, not pick up calls and completely ignore texts.”

“Yikes.”

“Mm,” he hummed.

“I shouldn’t have asked that question, Turner,” I said, feeling shit I’d made him talk about this.

“Why?”

“Well…I feel like shit I made you talk about it.”

“It isn’t a secret, Jess. It got messy. Then it got ugly. Then it was done.”

I shouldn’t ask.

I really shouldn’t.

I asked.

“How did it get messy?”

Again, no hesitation from Eric.

“She wanted kids. I wanted kids too. But, when I pointed out her life couldn’t be about the restaurant if we had a family, she’d get pissed. It went without saying she thought she could have our children and they’d get as much of Mom as I got from my wife. I wasn’t going to do that to my kids. She was furious, spouting all this shit about how men felt women needed to be the caregivers. Her answer to her schedule, as well as mine, was for us to get a live-in nanny. It’s the way of the world to need daycare or help at home with two working parents, but I didn’t want some person who wasn’t blood essentially raising our kids. I also didn’t feel like doing it on my own when I was married to their mother.”

“I can see that.”

“Yeah. The writing was on the wall. I asked for a divorce. She refused. I moved out and filed for divorce. Honest to fuck, she was shocked. Like she didn’t understand we had integral problems with our marriage.”

This was such deep denial, or narcissism, I couldn’t think of anything else to say but, “Whoa.”

“Yup,” he agreed. “She wanted to give it another go. She suggested counseling. I loved her, so I took her up on it. She went to two meetings, missed the next three because of restaurant shit, and then it was over.”

“God, Eric, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. She was smart, funny, talented. When it was good, it was fantastic. When it got bad, I got out.”

“You don’t feel like you wasted six years?”

“None of us have a crystal ball, Jess. We take the hand we’re dealt and cope.”

That was the truth of it.

“I don’t regret the time I had with her,” he continued. “I loved her, so I’d regret it if I didn’t give it a shot. In the end, it didn’t work out, but it worked out the way it should.”

That was aggressively adjusted.

“I think I got about fifteen questions with that,” I noted, bracing for his to come at me.

“Right,” he said softly.

“So it’s your turn to hit me.”

“Do you want kids?”

Something lovely and warm shifted in my belly, because that was not a you’re-my-new-lil’-sis type of question.

“Honestly? The concept scares me. I didn’t have great role models. But yeah,” I shared. “I do.”

“You’ll be a good mom,” he stated.

“How do you know?”

“Maybe you forgot, just two days ago when you strutted out of a homeless camp at two in the morning on the mission of finding your brother.”

That lovely warm thing shifted again, feeling lovelier and warmer.

I attempted to ignore it (impossible!) and prompted, “Question two.”

“What were you thinking when I lost you ten minutes ago?”

Oh shit.

I said nothing.

“Jess, we had a deal. No bullshit. No evading,” he pushed.

It was gentle.

But he was pushing.

And we’d made a deal.

Fuck!

“He’d be you,” I forced out.

“Pardon?”

“Or Cap. Or Knox. Or Liam.” I referred to other members of the NI&S team. “If Jeff didn’t have his illness, he’d be like you. He’d be strong and fit and confident. And he’d do things to help people. He’d have a job that was about honor. Respect. And he can’t do that. He can’t be all he should be. So he has to live with this illness, and live knowing he can’t have that. Instead, he lives thinking he’s a burden to?—”

I cut myself off with a painful gulp.

“Jessie?” Eric called.

“I gotta go. Talk to you later,” I blurted.

And then I hung up.

It was rude. But I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.

Just like I couldn’t stop myself from turning off all my lights, flipping off my Vans, crawling into bed, and curling myself into the gloom.

It’d pass, this darkness. I knew that because it always did.

It had to.

Life went on, and I had to get on with it.

But I’d learned through the years to just let it happen. To feel it, not bury it, so I could get on with it.

I loved my brother. I wanted everything for him. And the reality of it was, he’d never have that.

And it was a bottomless pit of how much that sucked.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I heard my front door open.

Great.

Eric had called Cap to tell Raye to look in on me.

Fabulous.

I could deal with my girls having my back.

I couldn’t deal with anyone when I was like this.

I waited for her to call out.

She didn’t call out.

Getting a sinking feeling that it might not be Raye and instead it was someone who shouldn’t be in my place, my mind racing as to whether I’d locked the door when Luna left (I hadn’t), I was about to get up and grab my Taser when a shadow filled the doorway.

I’d know that shadow anywhere.

It was Eric.

I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t say a word.

He just walked into my room, scooped me up out of bed like he did when he picked me up from the couch, but this time, he didn’t put me to my feet.

He got in my bed…

Yes!

He got in my bed!

Then he settled me in his lap, tucked my head under his chin, wrapped his arms around me, and they went tight.

Oh man.

This felt awesome. Way better than just hugging him, and that felt great .

“You didn’t have to come here,” I said huskily.

“Yeah, I did.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re not crying,” he noted quietly.

“No,” I agreed, still huskily.

“You need to cry.”

“I’m not a crier.”

“I don’t have to tell you, you’re dealing with a lot,” he remarked.

“No, you don’t have to tell me that.”

“And it’s clear you have been for a long time.”

“Yep.”

“Babe, you need an outlet.”

Babe .

Did you call your adopted little sister “babe?”

Did you haul your ass over to her house after eleven at night to comfort her?

Did you hold her in your lap against your chest in her bed?

God, I wanted him so bad, so fucking bad , I needed to ask what was going on here.

But I couldn’t because I was scared shitless about his answer.

“Do you cry when you’re upset?” I asked.

“I cried when my mom died.”

“You were thirteen.”

“It didn’t happen at the time, but when I got home and I was alone, I cried because my father showed up at my graduation from the FBI Academy so drunk out of his brain, he had to be ejected.”

Oh god.

I hated that for him.

The only way I could express the depths of that hatred was to mumble, “Yuck.”

Lame.

But there it was.

“They were angry tears, and they didn’t last long,” he carried on. “But I shed a few when one of Tim’s baby mommas called me, asking me if I knew where he was and telling me he was behind six thousand dollars in child support. This was more of an issue than it normally simply was, because my nephew just got out of the hospital after getting his tonsils out, and not only did Tim not pitch up to visit his kid, she didn’t have the money to pay the co-pay.”

“I’d cry about that too,” I noted. “Let me guess, you sent her the money.”

“Of course.”

Of course.

“I’m not the kind of girl who schleps around, pissed about shit I have no control over,” I informed him.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to have a reaction when that shit bites you in the ass,” he returned.

“True,” I mumbled.

Eric started stroking my back.

It felt like…

Everything .

Man, I was in trouble.

“Tell me about him,” he murmured.

“He’s funny. He’s sharp. It’s weird, because he’s kinda like Harlow. When things are going well, he’s always in a good mood. Life did him dirty, and still, that’s Jeff.”

“Look forward to meeting him.”

The idea of Jeff meeting Eric…

Shit, Jeff would totally dig Eric.

He’d dig all the guys.

Most especially, he’d dig knowing I had this capable crew in my life.

On these thoughts, I turned my head and shoved my face in his throat.

Eric tangled his long fingers in my hair.

“It’s really cool you came, but you don’t have to be here,” I said into his skin.

“Something else you should know about Jack and Rose.”

I tensed at this intro, but prompted, “What?” when he said no more.

“Jack did the right thing. Not because he was a guy, and she was a woman. But because he cared about her, and he gave everything just for a shot that she’d make it out alive.”

Oh fuck.

That did it.

A painful hiccup surged up my throat, I pressed my face deep into his neck, and the tears came.

Eric untangled his hand from my hair, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and both of them held me close and tight.

He didn’t say a word. No murmurs of encouragement to get it out. No statements that it was going to be all right.

He was silent.

And very, very there .

Even when I quit crying, and nestled into him, my cheek to his chest, he didn’t say anything.

I really wanted to know what he was about, what was happening with us.

But in that moment, he felt so good, and it felt so good, having someone close, having someone hold me, specifically having him there, I couldn’t break that moment. I couldn’t mess it up.

I’d never had it, but I knew I needed it.

Especially from him.

So I went with it.

I fell asleep with it, just like that, held close in Eric Turner’s strong arms, cocooned in his long body.

But around eight hours later, in my bed, the covers tucked tight around me, I woke up alone.