Mistaken Twin. Jodie Bailey
stairs vibrated as Wyatt pounded up with Erin and Jason close behind. He extracted the keys from Jenna’s hand as she aimed for the door, gently slipping between her and the entry. “I’m going in first.”
Jenna wanted to argue, but her throat closed as Wyatt turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, drawing his pistol as he pocketed her keys.
Someone could be in her home, waiting for her. It wasn’t a foreign idea, but watching Wyatt slip into her front door armed...
Jason edged in front of Jenna and stood inside the doorway as Erin’s arm slipped around her waist and guided her toward the threshold. “Come on. Let’s stand inside.”
Inside. So no one on the outside would see her.
Tremors shook Jenna by the time Wyatt walked along the short hallway leading to her bedroom. He holstered his pistol, his broad shoulders seeming to dwarf the space. He’d never been in her apartment before, and his presence served to make an already surreal night even more bizarre. “All clear.”
Three sets of eyes turned to Jenna, who stood between her living room and the bar that separated the area from the kitchen, her feet rooted to the polished hardwood. This must be what zoo animals felt like. On display. Exposed. Vulnerable.
Those were feelings she’d vowed never to succumb to again. Lifting her chin, she turned her focus to Jason and Erin and slipped behind the mask she’d worn for years. They’d be the easiest ones to convince. “You guys didn’t have to follow me home. I know you were looking forward to the concerts tonight. Go. I’m fine. Really. Plus, I’ll be a whole lot better if I don’t have an audience staring at me while I put together the pieces of somebody breaking in to my shop.”
“Not just breaking in to your shop. He—” Erin stopped abruptly as Jason laid a hand on her back, his fingers grazing her shoulder-length brown hair. She clamped her mouth shut, opened it again, then leaned against Jason’s chest and let him slide his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry. It’s just, after what happened to us...” She sighed. “I’m sure tonight terrified you, but I’m also sure nobody’s stalking you like they were me. I shouldn’t have hinted at such a thing.”
Good. Let them all think the attack was a one-off and she was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would make everything easier...until she fled and they had no idea why. “Really. Go. I’m fine. Wyatt’s got to ask me some questions, so he’ll be here for a bit.” The ability she’d honed as a child, to put on a brave front and act as though the world wasn’t exploding, was working to its full effect tonight.
Erin hesitated then glanced at Wyatt, seeming to search for confirmation. Finally, she hugged Jenna, who held on tight for a breath longer than usual. If things went according to plan, she’d be gone by morning and would never again see the closest friend she’d known since her sister’s death.
Erin pulled away and turned to Wyatt. “Look out for her.”
He tipped his head and walked outside with Jason and Erin, giving Jenna a moment to breathe. She could do this. Half an hour. Make some coffee. Answer some questions. Usher Wyatt out the door.
Then disappear.
One. Two. Three.
Jenna scooped coffee into the filter basket of her coffeepot. Sleep probably wasn’t coming any time soon, so caffeine was her friend. The sooner she had a warm mug in her hand, the better she’d feel. Besides, the activity kept her from having to turn toward Wyatt, who stood on the other side of the granite counter.
“Jenna, it’s okay to sit still. Nobody’s here but us. You’re safe.”
Four. That’s what he thought. “You don’t have to stay.” Seriously. If he left, she could curl in the corner of her couch and fall apart in peace, grieving what she was about to lose. The fear quaking her insides could run rampant through her body until it subsided.
Then, when the numbness set in, she could save herself.
Reality knifed her chest, causing her breath to hitch. She held the silver spoon tighter, the handle pressing into her palm. Shelley, who owned the building and the coffee shop, had given it to her when she moved in. Tonight, she would leave even this small memory behind.
“You said you were making me coffee. I’m going to make sure you keep your promise.” There was a rustle as he shifted position. “You might have convinced Erin she didn’t have to stay after you gave her the whole it-was-no-big-deal speech, but you’re forgetting something. I’m the one who scooped you off the floor like a wet beach towel. You are not okay.”
Wow. He had to go and remind her. That kind of arrogance was exactly what she expected of Wyatt. To be so smug as to point out her weakness and his strength. The strength she’d felt in his chest through the thick layers of his heavy uniform jacket. For a moment, she’d wanted to stay there. For a moment, she’d felt safe.
Jenna nearly rolled her eyes. Safe with Wyatt Stephens? Whether it was her issue or his, they couldn’t manage to get along.
The spoon dug into the coffee again, releasing the comforting, earthy aroma of roasted beans, but she hesitated as she held it over the filter basket. What number was she on?
“That’s five.” Wyatt’s voice was at her shoulder, and he reached around, gently taking the silver spoon from her fingers. His warmth loosened the tension in her shoulders, made her stop feeling like someone was peeking through the blinds of her second-story apartment. “Sit. You’re wobbling on your feet. I’ll finish here.”
Normally, when it came to Wyatt she’d argue, but the gelatin in place of her kneecaps was having none of it. Without lifting her head, Jenna sidestepped him and walked around the column at the end of the bar into the small living room at the front of the apartment. She curled into the corner of her gray couch and stared at the picture above the small stone fireplace, the one Erin had painted for her Christmas present. It was an almost photographic recreation of the view from Anson’s Ridge. When the days were rough or the memories too real, Jenna escaped up there to be alone. She’d head that way right now if rain wasn’t moving in.
And if she wasn’t more afraid than usual of what might lurk in the dark.
She’d probably never see Anson’s Ridge again. Her eyes burned, tears pushing to the front. Leaving El Paso had been hard, but with nothing to keep her there, her departure hadn’t ripped her heart into pieces.
This time, leaving might kill her.
Dragging her hands through her hair, she stared at the painting and wished herself into it.
A heavy pottery mug appeared in her vision, steam curling above it.
Jenna jumped, her hand over her heart. She’d have to relearn how to be vigilant.
“Sorry.” With an apologetic smile that looked well practiced, Wyatt backed away, still holding the mug out to her. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I found creamer in the fridge and assumed you’d want it in your coffee.”
His blue eyes were a startling contrast to his dark hair. She’d never noticed before, likely because she’d never been this close before. Then again, maybe without all of the tension that usually flowed between them, she could see him more clearly.
His eyes were actually kind of nice.
He held the cup a little closer, his cheeks reddening as though he could read her thoughts. “You want it or not?”
“Sorry.” Jenna wrapped both hands around the mug, careful not to brush his fingers. They’d been close enough to each other for one night already, and now she was noticing his eyes? No bueno. “Thanks.” The warmth from the ceramic seeped into her fingers, inched its way up her arms and settled into her soul. Finally, she could relax, even if it was all a temporary illusion of peace.
Before her sister, Amy, died, she had gone to a therapist and had doled out advice she received there. Best way to get rid of the ugly is to focus on the