“And when you were in danger, you called Fuzzy, not me?”

The skin on the back of my neck prickles at his tone, so cold and detached, but I don’t heed the warning. “I…uh…he’s a police officer. I thought…in case the police didn’t get here in time…he would know what to do.”

“And I wouldn’t?”

This is worse than being cross-examined. Every question he asks slices through my heart. Every answer I give sends me even deeper into the sinkhole I seem to have created.

“He has…a gun.”

Fuzzy shifts uneasily on the table and then pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand to me. “You can stay with my family. My parents have lots of room.”

Jake shoots to his feet. “I’ll take her to my place.”

I am tempted to tell Fuzzy I’ll just go to a hotel. But the thought of being alone makes my stomach clench. And I don’t want to be with a friend. I want to be with Jake, even if he doesn’t want to be with me. I need to explain everything. I need to get my foot out of my goddamn mouth.

We make the trip to his place in silence. Silence in the Jeep. Silence as we walk up to his building. Silence in the elevator. Silence after we step inside and he closes the door. Silence until I can’t stand the silence any more.

“We need to talk.”

He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. “There’s nothing to talk about. I thought maybe this time you would let me in and for a while you did. You needed me. At the hospital, Redemption, even your office. You accepted my help. You shared yourself with me. You gave yourself to me. I thought that would be enough. That’s what we didn’t have before.”

I wrap my arms around my stomach, hold on tight, and brace myself for the train wreck of my life.

“But I need more than that,” he says quietly. “I need to matter. And I need to know you’re in my corner. Not halfway. Not with one foot out the door, ready to run in case it all goes wrong. After the weekend, you made it clear you needed some space. So I gave it to you. But you didn’t come back. You didn’t get in touch. When you were hurting, you didn’t want me. When you were in danger, you didn’t call me. I know you’re still sitting on the fence. Just like before, you gave me your body, but you won’t give me your heart. And until you’re ready to give me everything, we don’t belong together.”

His words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for the first time in my life I have nothing to say. I’ve lost him, and this time I didn’t do anything. I lost him just because of who I am.

Jake makes up the couch and points me to the bed. But for the longest time I can’t move. I sit at the counter while he brushes his teeth and changes. I stare into space as he stretches out on the couch. At some point, I make it to the bed. I curl up, still wearing my work clothes, and wrap myself in his duvet so I am surrounded in him. I breathe in deep, inhaling his scent, and try to make a memory that will last a lifetime.

I drift. In and out of nightmares. Breaking glass. Harsh laughter. Thin, reedy voices. Pounding on doors. My cries awaken me. And then I drift again.

In the haze of sleep, I imagine the bed dips. An arm wraps around me, holding me tight. A warm body spoons me, keeping me safe and warm. The deep rumble of a voice soothes me. A hand strokes my hair and brushes the tears from my cheeks. I cling to the dream. I try to remember the feel of the body pressed tight against mine, the rise and fall of a solid chest, the pounding of a heart in time with mine. I imagine I curl my fingers into his and hold his hand tight against my cheek as I am pulled under again. But this time I don’t dream.

When I awake, I am alone. The bed is cold, empty. The couch is bare.

Jake is gone.

Chapter 20

THOUGHT YOU WERE A FIGHTER

“Got bad news for you, Amanda.”

Monday morning, ten days after Jake and I broke up, still an emotional mess, I raise an eyebrow as Ray drops into the chair across from my desk.

“Is this in retaliation for me swapping out your Victorian monstrosity for my nice blue corporate couches over the weekend?” I lean back in my chair and give him a resigned look. “I already explained it to Penny, I need paying clients, and they’ll be expecting a professional firm with a corporate image. I’ve been too relaxed about everything. Letting things slide. I’ll never be successful if I don’t treat this like the serious business it is.”

“Old Amanda’s back.”

“Exactly. At least you understand. Penny gave me a hard time when I told her I wouldn’t be doing any more off-site witness interviews or lunches during work hours. You do your job. Penny can do her job. And hopefully, we’ll see some justice done and make enough money to pay the bills.”

“What about your pro bono cases?”

My eyes flick to the pile of cases on my credenza beside the empty space where Jake’s microwave used to sit, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’ll have to transfer some of them to one of the other attorneys in the community legal aid clinic. I need to free up some time for paying clients. Maybe after I show everyone I can make a success of the firm and we’re in the black, I can pick them up again.”

For a while, we sit in silence and then he says softly, “You miss him.”

And suddenly days of battening down the hatches and shoring up my heart are blown away in an unexpected and unwanted gust of sympathy from the one person who is supposed to be as hard as me.