Gavin’s hand away as Jess’ glare to shut up seems to mute Gavin. With one quick glimpse, Breck inspects me, “Were you hurt?” The words are gruff but there’s the tiniest flash of concern in his eyes.
“No – sorry,” I state hurriedly, realizing that I didn’t thank him for getting me out of the stampede before I did get hurt, “thank you for moving me.”
That strong, lightly specked jaw is still wound tight when he gives a sharp nod, “Don’t be late tomorrow.”
Wanting to be a smartass, I refrain from saluting at his order and let it go as he turns to leave.
“You just got here,” Gavin blurts, “throw him a beer, Jess.”
“Not tonight,” he mumbles before walking away.
I watch how the crowd thins, moving out of Breck’s way as he walks by. His reputation seems to include more than just being a god and Casanova; apparently, he’s also feared.
͠
My lunch hour zooms by, not surprisingly; it’s always the fastest hour of the day, but time has seemed to have sped up through the entire morning. Usually, I welcome a quick work day; they don’t occur often, but not today. Time can drag for as long as it wants until 6:00 p.m. I’d even welcome Mr. Harris demanding I stay late, but no such luck since he’s out of the office at a conference until Monday.
Trying to distract myself from the upcoming meeting with Breck, I think back to my phone call with Jess this morning, still worried about whatever happened. She sounded fine, just like always. After her assuring me that everything’s good and telling me that we’ll talk more this weekend, my worry subsided.
Justin calls and, foolishly, I answer, knowing I have to talk to him at some point, especially since I haven’t returned his call from Saturday.
“I was worried about you, Emma!” he lectures, “I’ve been calling for six days.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy.”
His voice holds less of an edge when he asks, “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
Dreading the repercussion, I decide to go ahead and get it over with, “I can’t make it. I have to work the next day and there’s an important exhibit at the gallery the following Saturday.”
A painful silence tugs at my heart.
“Does your dad know?”
“Yeah, I told him a few days ago. He understands,” I state, wishing I had enough courage to tell him that he should, too.
“Tyler’s getting married next month.”
“Give your brother my congratulations,” I state, meaning it; I like Tyler, Justin’s older brother, he has always been nice to me.
“Now’s probably not the time to give him your well wishes. Lucy’s pregnant.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage to say, knowing that Justin’s family is extremely traditional. I hope Tyler and Lucy are in love and aren’t being pressured into something because of the situation. “Is Tyler happy about getting married?”
“Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“They don’t have to marry,” I state the obvious.
“Your father’s a preacher, how can you even say that? You’re the one who insisted we wait because we weren’t married,” Justin scolds.
Hearing his calm admonition reaffirms that leaving was the right thing. He never yelled at me, never swore when he was mad, which always somehow made me feel worse when I knew he was angry but wouldn’t show it. Not that I want to be yelled at, but some form of emotion would have possibly sparked at least a little passion between us. It’s hard to know what someone really feels if they are always being polite. I guess that’s why he was shocked when I told him I was leaving. I was just as polite as he was.
“I just mean that they don’t have to jump into marriage because of the baby. Tyler would do his part and be there for the child without having to give his
“No – sorry,” I state hurriedly, realizing that I didn’t thank him for getting me out of the stampede before I did get hurt, “thank you for moving me.”
That strong, lightly specked jaw is still wound tight when he gives a sharp nod, “Don’t be late tomorrow.”
Wanting to be a smartass, I refrain from saluting at his order and let it go as he turns to leave.
“You just got here,” Gavin blurts, “throw him a beer, Jess.”
“Not tonight,” he mumbles before walking away.
I watch how the crowd thins, moving out of Breck’s way as he walks by. His reputation seems to include more than just being a god and Casanova; apparently, he’s also feared.
͠
My lunch hour zooms by, not surprisingly; it’s always the fastest hour of the day, but time has seemed to have sped up through the entire morning. Usually, I welcome a quick work day; they don’t occur often, but not today. Time can drag for as long as it wants until 6:00 p.m. I’d even welcome Mr. Harris demanding I stay late, but no such luck since he’s out of the office at a conference until Monday.
Trying to distract myself from the upcoming meeting with Breck, I think back to my phone call with Jess this morning, still worried about whatever happened. She sounded fine, just like always. After her assuring me that everything’s good and telling me that we’ll talk more this weekend, my worry subsided.
Justin calls and, foolishly, I answer, knowing I have to talk to him at some point, especially since I haven’t returned his call from Saturday.
“I was worried about you, Emma!” he lectures, “I’ve been calling for six days.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy.”
His voice holds less of an edge when he asks, “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
Dreading the repercussion, I decide to go ahead and get it over with, “I can’t make it. I have to work the next day and there’s an important exhibit at the gallery the following Saturday.”
A painful silence tugs at my heart.
“Does your dad know?”
“Yeah, I told him a few days ago. He understands,” I state, wishing I had enough courage to tell him that he should, too.
“Tyler’s getting married next month.”
“Give your brother my congratulations,” I state, meaning it; I like Tyler, Justin’s older brother, he has always been nice to me.
“Now’s probably not the time to give him your well wishes. Lucy’s pregnant.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage to say, knowing that Justin’s family is extremely traditional. I hope Tyler and Lucy are in love and aren’t being pressured into something because of the situation. “Is Tyler happy about getting married?”
“Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“They don’t have to marry,” I state the obvious.
“Your father’s a preacher, how can you even say that? You’re the one who insisted we wait because we weren’t married,” Justin scolds.
Hearing his calm admonition reaffirms that leaving was the right thing. He never yelled at me, never swore when he was mad, which always somehow made me feel worse when I knew he was angry but wouldn’t show it. Not that I want to be yelled at, but some form of emotion would have possibly sparked at least a little passion between us. It’s hard to know what someone really feels if they are always being polite. I guess that’s why he was shocked when I told him I was leaving. I was just as polite as he was.
“I just mean that they don’t have to jump into marriage because of the baby. Tyler would do his part and be there for the child without having to give his
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