CHAPTER 15
Jessie woke to an empty bed and the smell of something so delectable, her stomach growled, letting her know it approved of whatever was going on in the kitchen. Collecting her thoughts, she put the scrambled pieces back together, reconstructing the evening’s events. It was a nightmare – so real and lifelike that it would probably haunt her for some time.
Comfort overrode her anxious will when she recalled Blake being there when she first woke. He had been there for some time, she suspected, because it was really him she heard through the nightmare, trying to wake her. At the time, that hadn’t been clear, but she knew now. He was comforting her even in her most painful state of sleep.
Blake had a softer side that she always suspected he had but only witnessed for the first time tonight. He made her feel safe, and she believed him when he said he would protect her. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. But could she let him? Recalling his role in her nightmare and his brutal demise, she questioned if it was even fair to let him. Bravery was something he wore on his sleeve, and she pitied anyone who tried to provoke him, but this was different. This wasn’t some jackass trying to start a bar fight. He
was a cold-blooded killer – a psychopath with no remorse, no conscience, and a score to settle.
Allowing Blake to assume the role of her protector meant putting him at risk. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to him. Especially since he was fighting her
battle aimlessly – taking on a demon, her monster, that he knew nothing about. It would be irresponsible to let him fight for her blindly.
In her nightmare, he fell dead at the hands of her attacker, and she couldn’t risk that becoming a reality. Too many people relied on him, needed him – including her. Even in her dream, he tried to protect her, calling to her from outside her imagination, consoling her. He would continue to do so, real or otherwise, and she needed to put a stop to it.
Blake was fierce and mighty, but he hadn’t a clue what he was going up against on her behalf, simply by protecting her. She knew he was in her house, at that moment, because he wouldn’t leave her after what he witnessed a short time before – which meant he was at risk, even now, just by being in her house. Though his death hadn’t been real and had only been the darkest part of her nightmare, it was a sharp reminder of who they were dealing with, what he was capable of, and what she stood to lose.
Another growl reminded her that she was indeed hungry, and whatever was going on in her kitchen, it was calling her name. As independent as she was, she also felt a sense of insecurity in his absence. Recalling all that happened, albeit all of it in her head, gave her this deep desire to find him, make sure he was okay, and confirm all of that really had just been her imagination.
Blake was pulling a large glass pan of something from the oven
when she made her way to the kitchen. Without even seeing her, he sensed her.
With his back still to her as he made a place for the hot dish, he said, “Lou made dinner.”
“Did she?” Jessie attempted a chipper voice. “Lasagna? Please say it’s her lasagna.”
“Stuffed shells and sauce,” he replied with a laugh.
“Oh, my God, close enough. Same stuff, just a different…shape,” she snorted, taking a seat at the table.
He opened the refrigerator and freezer simultaneously and said, “She made soup, chili, and some sort of casserole covered in tater tots and…cheese.”
“Tater tot casserole. It’s almost as perfect as the lasagna – we’ll eat that one tomorrow.”
He rolled his eyes, clearly not a fan of the casserole, before sharing, “If you really think we need to.”
Blake was plating two helpings of their main course while the salad and warm, crusty garlic bread already sat waiting on the table. It wasn’t lost on her how comfortable he was in the kitchen or in her home. With his rarely untucked t-shirt, low slung jeans, and only socks on his feet, he met her at the table with their meals and a gentle smile.
“Yeah, Lou said this should last the week and not to let you
cook,” he teased. “Actually, she said not to eat what you cook.”
Jessie tossed her hands in the air. “One time! One…time
I undercooked chicken. I didn’t know it was still frozen in the middle, and I didn’t know the grill had run out of propane.”
Blake froze, garlic bread basket in hand mid pass. “Are you serious? I’ll have to thank Lou again!”
“Kiss off, Blake!” she said, tossing a wadded-up napkin at him, to which he waggled his eyebrows at her.
They sat and ate in silence, when Blake finally initiated conversation, midway through their meal.
“So, what happened today?” he asked, referring to her nightmare, earlier in the afternoon.
Not ready to make eye contact, Jessie continued to look at her plate, acting aloof. “What do you mean?”
“At the House – what was that all about?” he asked.
“Oh. Getting sick?” she replied, “That’s all it was. I got…sick.”
“It was more than that. You were shaken by something.”
He recognized that she looked everywhere but at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Her eyes quickly targeted him, that fear dancing around in her expression again. “Nope! Nothing to talk about, Blake.”
“Jess…”
Slamming her fork on the table, it clanged against her plate, startling her. “Blake, it was just a surprise, okay? That’s like our…fortress or something. To see it like that and our comrades hurt... It just…I don’t know…was surprising.”
Brows furrowed together, he knew she was holding back and continued to pry, “Nothing else?”
“No! Jesus, you keep hovering. It’s making me claustrophobic. I’m human; believe it or not, I have feelings. That’s all it was…a bunch of…feelings.”
Jessie added her waving hands for dramatic effect when discussing feelings.
“Feelings. Okay. So, the nightmares – those are just feelings,
too?”
“Blake…seriously…”
“Yeah, seriously
,” he fired back before she could dance around the issue any longer, “Something is going on with you. I get that someone broke into your house, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. The secrets…”
“Says the guy with no past.” She was playing hardball. “Who hides every emotion, buries them so deep he can’t even smile half of the time because it just might give something away. You want to talk about secrets? Let’s start with yours.”
Blake crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, eyes held in a tight stare with a ruffled brow. He watched her for a moment, noticed her squirming in her seat, completely uncomfortable with the conversation at hand. More deflecting. He shook his head before tossing his fork on his well cleaned plate and walking it to the sink.
“You can handle dishes. I’m out of here.” He made his way to the door, stepped into his boots, and grabbed his dog.
“Of course, you are. Try and control everyone’s problems, but run from your own…classic Blake Cooper,” she added for extra insult to injury.
The door slammed behind him, and he was gone. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she also didn’t want him anywhere near her problems. Not when her scarred dreams reflected what could come of him, should she let him in.
It was eerily quiet with him gone. Though he wasn’t known for being chatty, his presence filled the space when his words didn’t. Hurting him wasn’t part of her plan but was the only way she could keep him at a distance. It was the only way she
could protect him.
Only hours before, she was cradled in his protective embrace – if she denied enjoying the feel of him holding her, taking care of her, she was a damn liar. It felt good, even right. It felt like where home was supposed to be. But, like Lou Shaw said, he had his own past to face, and just like him, there was only one way to protect everyone she loved from it, which was to push them away as far away as she could.
After cleaning up what little mess dinner left, Jessie was exhausted, despite her long nap. This wasn’t like her – constant adrenaline tended to invigorate her, not exhaust her. When she turned off the lights in the front of the house, she noticed Blake’s SUV parked out front. He hadn’t left after all; he was just choosing to watch her from afar tonight.
A warm rush of emotion flooded her, which pissed her off because it was not only counterproductive to keeping him away from her living nightmare but also because she couldn’t tell the difference between needing Blake Cooper and wanting
him. She feared it was the latter, which left her with a different flood of emotion, the kind that left a certain tingle and desire. Maybe that was a good thing – maybe…her nightmares would give her a break, and she would dream of a certain hunky cop sitting outside her house instead.
Jessie scooped up her cat from the back of the couch and in a deep moan said, “I’m in trouble, Flea, and its name is Blake Cooper.”