The Closer You Come. Gena Showalter
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school her senior year to waitress full-time and help her mom pay bills. Later, though, she’d passed her GED exam. Her deadbeat mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate, so West had promised to throw her a party. He’d toked up instead. She’d left the apartment they’d all shared with a sad smile, saying it didn’t matter. But afterward Beck confessed he’d seen her crying as she’d driven away.
That night, she’d crashed her car into a lamppost.
Sweet, beautiful Tessa had died at the age of nineteen.
“I get it. The anniversary of Tessa’s death is three months away,” Jase said. According to some of the tales Beck had told him, West spiraled more and more, drinking, flaking on clients, even picking fights. Soon after, he picked a woman, showered her with affection and gifts and ended things in exactly two months, as if he was willing to give happiness a shot because it was what Tessa would have wanted, but he didn’t feel he deserved more than a taste.
“Yes,” West responded, head bowed, “and I’ll be fine this time. I will. I’m not going to limit what you can do because of a weakness I have.”
“For a smart man, you can be really stupid.” Jase clasped him by the nape and stared him down. “We help each other. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. What makes you think I’d want anything to do with something that bothers you?”
“You’ve lost so much already.”
Yes. More than either man knew. Jase had shared only a few of the atrocities he’d suffered—and committed—during the years of their separation. He could barely stand to think of them. “So have you,” he said. “A scholarship to MIT, and soon after that, Tessa.”
Pain flashed in dark eyes that had already witnessed the worst the world had to offer.
“You’ve been clean six years,” Jase said. “During that time, you’ve created and sold different computer programs and games I won’t pretend to understand, and you’ve made us richer than we ever dreamed by investing the profits for us. Cut yourself some slack.”
“Put that way, I am pretty awesome,” West said, the barest hint of a smile revealed.
“Though only a close second to me,” Beck said, thumping his chest like a gorilla.
The doorbell rang before Jase could pop them both in the back of the head.
Everyone displayed different variations of dread.
“Bet it’s one of Beck’s women, coming to request seconds,” West said.
Beck lined up his shot. “Too bad. The candy store is currently closed.”
West snorted. “If only it stayed closed for maintenance. These women are upsetting my schedule.”
Jase had noticed West’s time-management and schedule-building skills had only gotten sharper over the years, though he’d done his best to relax and pretend he could roll with spontaneity. In reality, he’d always lived by a regime, preferring to have every minute planned.
Another round of ringing echoed from the walls.
“Don’t everyone rush to the door at once,” Jase said.
Beck peered at West. “Do me a solid and get rid of her.”
“Happy to, but you’ll owe me.” West strode from the room.
“Like that’s anything new,” Beck called. The amused vibe vanished in a blink. He tossed Jase a look rife with concern. “He’ll come through this, but it’s going to be hard. I’m glad you’re here. It’s been rough going it alone with him these past few years.”
“Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.”
“Just keep reminding him that you’re here.” As Jase got in position to drill the eight ball into the far right pocket, Beck switched gears, starting a joke. “So, an angel walked into a den of iniquity.”
The word angel made him think of Brook Lynn again, and certain parts of his body began to ache for contact. Every day since he’d met her, he’d gone into town to give her that bill she was so determined to pay and to reimburse her for the implants he’d ruined.
If he were honest, settling their debt had little to do with his frequent trips.
He’d wanted to talk to her, to find out what it would take to break through all of her stubbornness and prickly anger and make her smile. To prove she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered...or as soft and warm. But every time he’d seen her, he’d realized she was more beautiful—and probably softer and warmer.
She worked at a jewelry shop Monday through Saturday, and while there, she wore her pale hair in some kind of intricate knot on top of her head, thick locks at her temples tumbling down to frame her exquisite face and, he was sure, to cover her ears. She usually had a pair of magnifying glasses over her eyes and a small pair of needle-nose pliers in hand. Once, as she had helped a guy with grease stains on his hands and overalls, she had talked with her hands, laughing happily at whatever he’d said to her.
Jase had experienced a wave of anger he hadn’t understood then—and didn’t understand now—and had left before Brook Lynn could spot him.
But he’d gone back again and again.
Most evenings, she worked at Two Farms, and because she was usually the last to leave, she often had to walk to her car alone. Anyone could hide in the shadows, jump out and perform a grab-and-stab. Or worse. And okay, yes, she got points for carrying what looked to be pepper spray, but she lost even more for not paying attention to her surroundings. She was like a Disney princess, practically dancing and singing, “I’m so ready to be disarmed and mugged!”
Did she not realize even small towns had crime?
Case in point: he could be cited for stalking. Hence the multiple beers and his desperation to stay inside the house tonight. He would not risk a legal battle for anyone.
He sank the ball and smirked at Beck. “You going to tell me the rest of the joke?”
“Not a joke. A fact.” His friend motioned to the entrance with a tilt of his chin then wiggled his brows.
Jase looked, and yep, he had to agree. An angel had walked into a den of iniquity. Beside West stood Brook Lynn Dillon.
Hauntingly beautiful. And completely off-limits.
The urge to touch her, to hold her, bombarded him all over again, and he had to grit his teeth against it.
Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.
“Hey, Brook Lynn,” Beck called. “You’re looking mighty fine today—which can mean only one thing. You came to ask me out. Well, it’s your lucky day, pretty. I accept.”
Jase hit his friend in the arm and muttered, “Don’t flirt with her,” before he could think better of it.
Beck frowned at him. “Who was flirting? I was baring my soul.”
The conversation ceased to matter when he noticed Brook Lynn’s eyes were swollen and red, as if she’d been crying. There was a cut on her bottom lip, as if, in her despair, she’d chewed a little too hard.
He threw down his cue. If someone had hurt her—
His hands fisted at his sides as he closed the distance.
Her gaze landed on him and widened. Gulping, she stepped away from him. “Do you, uh, know where Jessie Kay is?”
Had he scared her?
“No,” he said, careful to moderate his tone. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her.”
Her shoulders slumped with defeat and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a big dose of fatigue. She worked far too much, couldn’t get much more than a few hours of sleep each night. While he admired her fortitude, rarely having seen anyone push themselves so fervently, he knew