"You got it."
And just like that, my excitement flatlined.
"It's not all drug busts and murders, you know," Jones said turning to me, exasperated.
Though that would've been nice if it was true, it wasn't the particular assignment that shot down my enthusiasm. It was the fact that this was Jenna's animal shelter that we might be shutting down.
Looked like I'd be seeing a lot more of her, whether she knew it or not.
Chapter Six
Jenna
I did my best to ignore Michael, but it was easier said than done-especially when I caught him in his uniform. I wasn't sure where he went looking like he belonged on a military campus, but he made those standard-issue shirt and pants look incredible.
So I still wasn't sleeping well. The way he looked at me the day in the courtyard invaded my brain whenever I let it. The sensation of electricity when our fingers touched was burned into my memory.
It can never happen.
I took my frustration to the streets, reveling in the fact that I could run outside again. I'd picked up running after an altercation with a sorority girl on campus a few years ago. My don't give a fuck attitude after Ben died got me into a lot of trouble that I was still making up for today.
With Samantha, it was guy-related. A common theme in my life. After she heard a rumor that I was with her boyfriend, she cornered me on campus with some of her sorority sisters and made several threats. Thankfully, I had my own clique of bad girls to watch my back, but it still didn't take away the fear that came along with the altercation. Or the uneasiness every time I ran into any of them on campus.
Now the truth was, I did sleep with her boyfriend, but he gave me the impression he was single, available, and into just one night of fun. It made sense why.
Soon, I started seeing Samantha everywhere, so I traveled with a buddy whenever I could. But the real problem was that I had to walk by her sorority house to get to the parking lot where I stored my car. So I avoided driving, opting to run instead. It was like killing two birds with one stone because I didn't want to take Samantha's abuse, and after Ben's car accident, I hated driving anyway. It wasn't uncommon for me to have a panic attack anytime my speed reached over thirty miles an hour. So instead, I'd slip on a baseball hat and glasses and jog to the store to get food, to the shelter to work, or anyplace I used to take my car. It was a pretty wimpy way to deal with conflict, but I loved the anonymity of my new look and the freedom it provided.
Once my little army of bad girls had surpassed Samantha's sisterhood, she'd stopped bothering me. But by then, I craved the release that running gave me and was already addicted.
Unfortunately, ever since Michael moved in, my go-to exercise wasn't as effective in releasing my stress and I remained on edge, precisely why my temper flared when I heard someone at my door.
"Hold your horses," I said, annoyed at the pounding on the door. There was a low, male voice echoing in the hallway, along with the incessant thrashing. Whoever was on the other side of my apartment door better be wearing a cup because he was going to pay for putting the dogs in a tizzy. They were running around, barking, jumping on the furniture. It was a madhouse.
God, what my life had become. If my mother could only see me now, she'd have a heart attack. Even with two kids, the words 'wild', 'messy', and 'out of control' would have never been used to describe our home.
The truth was, Mom didn't really like parenthood. Oh, she liked the idea of us for sure, but the reality of two kids by the time you're twenty-four wasn't all that exciting. She was never all that interested in our lives, even when Ben was still here. Everything we were, everything we did, was simply a reflection back on her. So anytime we made any sort of mistake, she'd taken it personally.
She never understood that we were separate from her, with our own lives to lead, our own goals and dreams. It hurt me for a long time, and I guess the way I dealt with it was looking for love in other places. But the sad reality is you don't get that unconditional love in other places. It comes from your parents and that's about it. That was my experience, anyway. So when I couldn't get that love from my first boyfriend Noah, I tried with his best friend. When I couldn't get it from my best friend Jules, I tried with her boyfriend. You see where this is going, don't you? This is why Samantha's judgements about me weren't far off. It's also why I deserved everything I got. It should've been me who died in the accident, not my little brother.
I guess some of my behavior could be blamed on that. Grief will make people do things that are batshit crazy. Double it, if that grief is wrapped up in guilt. But going back to when I was child, I had always been broken in some way. I'd always been missing or lacking. You can tell someone that you have to love yourself first before you can love anyone else. You have to find yourself worthy. You can't rely on others to do it for you. But if you're the one lacking, if you're the one broken, that doesn't quite compute. It took me a long time to realize that. I never wanted to be like my mom, trapped into a life that I didn't want, and taking other innocents along with me. It all became really clear after Ben died, and after I broke up with Noah, and ruined the only real friendships I ever had.
But for so long it felt better to lash out. It felt better to be the one hurting other people so they couldn't hurt me first. It's like when you hear about people who were abused as kids and they end up abusing their own children. It's a cycle. And though it doesn't make sense cognitively, it does when you're in the moment.
And then I found Gloria. It was self-serving at first for sure. I needed an independent study after I broke up with Noah. And it'd been too hard to face him and Tabby on my previous assignment on the university newspaper. I needed something of my own.
Gloria and I hit it off the very first day, probably because she didn't take any of my crap. She took one look at my designer outfits and shoes and laughed in my face. But she didn't say anything, she let me figure it out on my own. I destroyed an $800 outfit my first day. But I learned a lesson quick. And I liked working there, I liked Gloria's no-nonsense way of looking at life. I liked that this rough place in this broken-down building had become my escape, packed with so much love inside. And that wasn't even considering the animals. Watching Gloria work at something she loved was inspiring. Soon I realized it didn't matter what I was wearing or how I did my hair or my makeup. Heck, I could even come to work without brushing my teeth and the animals wouldn't care.
They started to give me a sense of purpose. They were so innocent and they needed someone to take care of them. That was all they needed-just the basics for survival.
I decided then and there that this is what I wanted to do with my life. This is what made sense. Of course, my advisor at the university thought that maybe veterinarian medicine would be best, but there was no way I could take that kind of pressure. I knew that about myself. I couldn't hold the life of another living creature in my hands. What if I couldn't save them?
When the knock on my door reverberated through the apartment again, I realized who it must be.
Someone who was on a mission of his own.
Chapter Seven
Michael
I'd never been more thankful for my own place than I was in the moment. It'd been a long day, a long week, and a little more drama-filled than I was used to. All I wanted was my couch, a cold beer, and ESPN.
I was too lazy to make dinner, so I grabbed a box of dry cereal as I headed over to my recliner. I kept the volume on low, relishing in the quiet. Living with Tabby was nothing but people and talking and noise, noise, noise. This? This was bliss.
Until there was a banging sound outside my door.
Typically, this is when irritation would settle in, but instead, I was on alert. Another bang and then what sounded like a struggle outside my door. I immediately went into cop mode-sans the gun. I didn't have my license yet and really didn't believe in civilians having firearms in their homes, so I was waiting until I was officially on the force.
Stupid mistake.
My ears peaked like a German Shepard, and every muscle in my body coiled. I grabbed my baseball bat and looked out the peephole of my apartment door.
Nobody was in the hallway.
Another scuffle ensued.
It was definitely coming from Jenna's apartment. Enemy or not, I wouldn't let anything happen to her. Not on my watch.
I'd noticed a guy going inside her place when I came home earlier. Shit, what did he look like? Medium build, in my age range (early twenties) blonde hair … that's all I had. I was trying not to notice, because I wasn't happy with the way it made me feel that there was another man in Jenna's apartment. I wasn't happy with a lot of things that involved Jenna these days.
In one stride, I was on the other side of the hall, next to her door, listening. My arm that was holding the bat twitched. I was ready to strike if I needed to.
This time, after the rumbling stopped, Jenna's light laughter filled the hallway.
I tried to make sense of what was happening.
She was talking now, her voice low, sexy.
Holy shit. The guy from earlier must've been her date … or booty call … or whatever it was Jenna Peterson did with her willing victims. How I wanted to know what that was.
Unfortunately, she opened the door before I had the chance to make it back to my single-guy sanctuary.