Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(83)

That was a relief, but still my fingers itched to lock him away for something and make it permanent. “You still work with this guy?”

Erin shrugged. “Not all the time. But yeah, I do. We both started out as interns together.”

I felt the muscle in my jaw twitch. “Invest a lot of time in him?”

Her hair shook. “About a year. He was never serious about it. I thought that wanting the same things out of life would be a good foundation until I found out he wanted the exact same things. Then it turned it into a competition. Guess I know who won in the end.”

Yeah, apparently this * gutted her along the way, too. “You still in love with this guy?”

“No. I pretty much despise him. At the time when we were together, I think I was in love with the idea of love. You know what I mean? Does that constitute love? I don’t know.”

I had no idea, either.

“What about you and the girl who left her box of tampons behind?”

Wait. When did this become about me? Dredging up my past was not something I was keen on doing. “Her name is Nikki. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh. Were you together long?”

Fuck.

“A while.”

The edges of Erin’s mouth curled down. “Sounds like you were in love with her.”

Actually she drove me crazy. My cell dinged; a number I didn’t have programmed had sent me a text.



What the? Jesus, I don’t need this. I deleted it and tossed my phone aside.

Erin sat up. I could see the thoughts ricocheting around her head, ready to pinball her out of my kitchen when I didn’t answer. “What time is it?”

I glanced at my microwave. “Eleven thirty.”

She slipped off her chair. “I need to talk to Doctor Wilson.”

Somewhere in my living room, a cell began to ring. I watched her fish her phone out of her purse, finding relief after hearing her say hello to her mother.

Erin’s body was silhouetted by the sun streaming in through my front window, giving her a golden glow. Her hair was mostly dry now, with each strand taking on a slight curl. The back of the T-shirt she was wearing was bunched up around the waistline of my gray baggy sweats and tied into a knot, amplifying a mouthwatering, heart-shaped ass hidden in the fabric. Even the floppy white socks she was wearing were mine.

Watching the way she chewed on her thumbnail as she held the cell to her ear, the way her body swayed while she gave her mom words of comfort mesmerized me. I didn’t know things could feel this strongly with someone. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was about her that was like the center of gravity, pulling me in. I felt weak and vulnerable and tough and virile all at the same time. In all the time I was with Nikki I never felt this attracted to her like I did with the woman in my presence right now.

Instead of centering on herself and her own problems, Erin was calm and confident, making plans to handle things that had to do with upcoming funerals, taking that burden off her grieving mother and adding more onto her own plate. Never once did she complain about her own problems or even mention what she was dealing with. Man, she’s selfless.

My chest swelled with pride. At the same time, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and give her my strength too, knowing that after what she’d shared with me, she needed it. She probably never burdened anyone with her problems.

My body moved before I completed that thought, first checking if she’d shy away from me. When she didn’t budge, I pulled her back into my chest, letting her say her “okay, moms” while I held her.

Despite her convincing telephone act with her mother, she was on the verge of a breakdown.

I could see it; sense it.

Sure enough, as soon as she ended her call, she turned in my arms and tangled her hands into the back of my shirt. It started with sniffles before it turned into a full-blown cry.

I held her tightly and gave her every bit of strength I had.





I MANAGED TO move her into my kitchen without letting go of her and tore another paper towel off the roll. “Sorry, it’s all I have.”

Erin dabbed her eyes and wiped her face. “Thanks. I’m sorry I fell apart like that. It’s not… I never… And I got your shirt all wet.”

I’d be willing to collect all of her tears—just as long as I wasn’t the reason she was crying. “Not worried about the shirt. You okay?”

She nodded but didn’t look convincing. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed in red. She wiped her nose. “Funeral is Friday at ten o’clock. My cousins had my Aunt Karen cremated. It’s what she wanted. Oh God. I have to order flowers and help them find a hall to have a luncheon afterward. They are going to have a memorial service Thursday night. My mom wants me to come up there and help her bake, too.”

“Where is there?”

“Plymouth Meeting.”

My inner navigation clicked in, mapping out the logistics. That was a thirty-five minute drive north. The natural detective in me questioned the bigger picture. “Wait, why were your aunt and uncle driving the Schuylkill Expressway that night?”

She tried to mask her bruise with her hand again while she talked with me but I stopped her, pulling her hand into mine. “They were visiting my cousin Nate in Cherry Hill.”

East. Just below Philly in New Jersey. The Schuylkill would have been the most direct route.