Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,10

I’m closer I can see her face is tear-streaked, her eyes puffy. Dammit.

“I’m sad,” she admits, leaning her head against the window. “This was supposed to be my wedding night. But it’s not just that. The whole life I thought I was going to have is gone.”

I guess that’s true.

“Everything I dreamed about and imagined…” She closes her eyes and another tear squeezes out.

“Your life’s not over.” I lay a hand gently on her shoulder and squeeze briefly. “You’ll have all those things.”

“Maybe.” She presses her lips together, then opens her eyes and swipes her fingertips beneath one. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t mind some tea…if you have any?”

“Uh…I’m not much of a tea drinker.” I head to the kitchen to check the cupboards. Miraculously, I find a box of some kind of herbal tea with candy canes and gingerbread men on it. Someone must have brought it over at Christmas. I fill a mug with water and set it in the microwave, which is probably the wrong way to boil water, but it’s easy.

Molly followed me. I turn to see her leaning against the raised ledge between the kitchen and dining room. I catch her gaze roving over me and I become aware that all I’m wearing is a pair of boxer shorts. My skin heats as I hold up the box. “This is all I have.”

“That’s fine. Thanks.” She takes the box and pulls out a tea bag. “Smells nice.” Her shoulders slumped, her hair a mess around her face, she sighs. “I really don’t want to be such a downer. Just feeling sorry for myself right now.”

Seeing her hurting is no goddamn fun, let me tell you. Anger at Chucky spurts hot inside me. He’s a friend, but I’m pissed. “I get it. You have a right to feel that way. But someday this will all make sense.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes not getting what you want can be a good thing.”

She eyes me. “Doesn’t feel like that right now.”

“I know. But you’ll get through this.”

“Thanks.” The corners of her mouth lift. “You’re a good friend, Jax.”

The microwave beeps and I take out the mug. I set it on the counter and she drops the tea bag into it.

The condo is mostly dark, quiet, the feeling intimate and sequestered. This is a first for me; when I have women here, the most romantic thing I whisper to them after is, “Hey, go home.” We don’t usually have middle-of-the-night conversations about the meaning of life.

I just want to make Molly feel better. I’m spouting bullshit I know nothing about, trying to help.

She sips her tea. “I’ll take this and go back to bed.”

“The tequila didn’t help you sleep?”

“I did sleep for a while. Then I woke up and started thinking. Why is thinking in the middle of the night the worst? Everything seems terrible and hopeless.”

“I guess I don’t usually do that.” I rub the back of my neck.

“Lucky you. Okay, see you in the morning.”

I watch the T-shirt twitch over her ass as she walks away. She may not have big hooters, but she has a spectacular ass.

Okay, yeah, I’ve noticed that.

Hopefully I can get some sleep too.

I didn’t set an alarm, and I’m shocked when I grab my phone and see I slept till nearly ten.

I bolt up in bed.

Molly.

The condo is silent.

I throw back the duvet and once more go searching for her. Her bedroom door is still closed, the rest of the place deserted, so I guess she slept too. That’s good.

I’m not a tea drinker but I like coffee, so I make myself a cup in the Keurig, then carry it into my bedroom. I need to shower, finish packing and take Molly… somewhere.

After I’m showered and the beard stubble is tidied up, I toss my toiletry bag into the suitcase, along with a few more T-shirts. I add one pair of dress pants and a shirt, but I don’t plan on doing anything that requires dressing up. My camera gear is already packed.

Molly appears in my bedroom door, now wearing the plaid pajama pants again. “Morning.”

“Hey. Good morning. You must have gotten some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

She’s washed her face and she looks so different without all the dark stuff on her eyes, kind of pale and soft and vulnerable. “Good.”

She holds up her phone. “What airline and flight are you on?”

Jesus. She’s still on this? “Seriously?”

Her little chin is firm.