Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(103)

Ben has wormed his obnoxious self into my heart. I’m actually starting to feel sorry for Mercy, and all the other girls he has surely left in his wake. The scariest thing is that he does it by being himself—a kind, funny, easygoing guy who sends a text to say hi and calls to ask a girl to sing to him because he wants to. He doesn’t hide who he is; he doesn’t lie or promise anything. He doesn’t play stupid head games. Whether those girls are completely clueless and fall into the accidental trap or stand on the edge and knowingly do a swan dive into it, like I just did, we all eventually fall for Ben’s charm.

And now I can’t breathe under the weight of those consequences. I need to get out of here.



“I got you an extra-big piece!” By the giddiness on the waitress’s face, you’d think she was serving a movie star.

“Thanks.” With a sigh, I break off a chunk and slide the tangy filling into my mouth, letting it melt over my taste buds.

Ben was right. Sometimes, change is good.

“And?” It’s so sudden, so close to me, and so unexpected, that I jump. “What do you think? Isn’t it the best key lime pie you’ve ever had?” Good grief. She’s actually watching me eat. It’s beyond irritating.

Maybe that’s why I decide to be a complete bitch and say, “I’ve had better.” It’s true. I have. At a lovely little citrus grove about two hours north, surrounded by laughter and love and friendship. But when she turns and leaves, a deflated frown on her face, I instantly feel guilty.

“Reese?”

My stomach drops at the sound of his voice. I turn back to find familiar green eyes staring down at me. “Jared?” This is so not what I need to deal with right now.

He gestures behind him absently as he explains. “I just stopped by your office, hoping to catch you before you left for the day. Some lady with a big mole said you’d probably be here.”

Mrs. Cooke. I told her I was taking a break and then I’d be back. I’m actually planning on working late tonight, to make up for whatever I miss tomorrow while at the funeral. And because I’ve gotten very little done, since I’ve been busy fantasizing like a moron.

Sitting up, I self-consciously adjust my shirt as Jared folds his tall body into the other chair. “I don’t remember you liking limes,” he murmurs, shaking his head, a little crease lining his forehead.

“I don’t remember you dressing like a Nordstrom mannequin.” Seriously, what the hell is he wearing? A dark green sport coat and what I can only describe as “trousers.” I mean, he still looks good, but he’s never been the metrosexual guy, preferring the “I just picked these clothes up off the floor and don’t I still look hot” style.

“Couldn’t walk into a law firm looking like a welder, now, could I?” He pauses, glancing around. “Where’s your lawyer boyfriend?”

Is that what this little getup is about? Is he feeling inferior to Ben? I grit my teeth against the smile. And then I remember that Ben isn’t mine and probably never will be, and the smile runs off on its own. “At his mother’s. His father died last weekend.”

“Oh.” He frowns. I note that there’s no “sorry” attached to that. It would be the polite thing to say. Then again, I was usually the one picking up on manners where Jared lacked.

He settles a heavy gaze on me, his face unreadable. “So I learned all about Facebook privacy settings last weekend.”

I feel my cheeks burn as I avert my gaze to a miniature palm tree next to our table. I haven’t dared look at his profile since last week, preferring ignorance over seeing a picture of a restraining order that I figured he was filing against me.

After a really long, unbearably awkward silence, I realize that he’s waiting for my response. So I clear my throat and offer, “I warned you, didn’t I? You never can be too careful about the crazies.”

He dips his head. “I probably should be f*cking furious with you, Reese.” Peering up from under heavy lids, he admits, “But I’m not. I deserve it. I deserved having the apartment trashed. I deserve sitting there and watching that * suck your face in front of me.”

A spike of annoyance jumps inside me, the need to defend Ben overpowering. “Ben hasn’t done anything to you.”

Jared’s knowing glare makes me correct that. “Okay, fine. But in his defense, he had no idea who you were.”

A smile quirks Jared’s lips. “Fair enough. If it were you and me out there and we came across a couple going at it, we would have done the exact same thing. Maybe with a little less passion, but . . .” His words drift off in a wry tone.

“What did Caroline say about it?” I dare ask.

“I’m not telling her.” He reaches forward to rest his hands on the table, only inches from mine. Something tells me it’s a very conscious move on his part.

“And does she know that you’re here now?”

“She doesn’t own me, Reese.” He heaves a sigh. “We haven’t talked in a few days. She’s staying at her friend’s house right now. I just . . .” His face pinches together as he closes the gap to take my hand. “I knew the day I ran in to you here that I’d made a f*cking huge mistake. I should never have left you. I want you back.”

“Huh.” That’s all I can manage as I slump back into my chair, all ability to speak gone as a nauseating swirl of emotion rises in my chest. This is not what I expected. Back? “Back for what?” I hear myself ask out loud and immediately bite my tongue.