She didn’t question me about why. She agreed and told me to fly safe. Said she was excited to see me. Wanted to know what time I was going to be back in town.
Sam was a true friend. She cared about others. Would have given the shirt off her back if it meant helping someone in need.
And me? I was the bitch who betrayed her. Who made out with her boyfriend. Twice.
I’m the reason she’s dead.
I may not have been the one that killed her that night, but it was because of me the opportunity was there. I’m just as guilty as the one who took her life.
Chapter Seven
It’s almost midnight before I force myself to take a break from reading through the case files. I’m no closer to completing my profile than when I started. The level of violence is heart-breaking. What Sam went through brings tears to my eyes. I still have unanswered questions.
Was she scared?
Did she try and call out for help?
Those are questions I’ll never have the answer to. The only person who can give us the answer is gone.
There is one lingering question that I’ve circled in my notebook multiple times though.
Did she know her attacker?
My gut tells me she did. That she had no reason to be alarmed and that’s why she had no defensive wounds. I’m certain it was a man based on the angle and depth of the blunt force trauma to her head. That’s how he disarmed her. He caught her off guard and knocked her unconscious before he tied her up.
Her cause of death? Blood loss.
Had she been able to scream she might still be here.
I’m piecing together a preliminary timeline of the events when I hear shuffling outside of my door again. The only light in the room is from the lamp on the desk I’m working at. I see a shadow come to a stop in front of my door, and then disappear again … only to return a few minutes later.
I’m already shaken up after reading the case files. I didn’t sleep last night because someone was outside of my door. It’s time to find out who it is and put a stop to the quiet torture.
Looking around for something to protect me, I spy a tall, gold candlestick holder. After gently removing the candle and setting it on top of my open notebook, I take a deep breath and stand.
I tiptoe over to the door, place my hand on the knob, and turn as slowly as possible so as not to make a sound. When I hear the shuffling again, I pull the door open quickly and prepare to defend myself.
“Jay.” There’s no hiding the surprise in my voice. He’s the last person I expected to find standing outside of my door.
Not that I’m disappointed. Hell, my inner cheerleader is jumping for joy at the mere sight of him. For the first time since he walked back into my life, I’m allowing myself to get a good look at him.
He’s dressed in the same dark T-shirt and jeans he had on earlier. This close up, I can see how mature and defined his features have become. His jaw is stronger than I remember, more sculpted. The hint of scruff that I didn’t notice at dinner has me wanting to reach out and take his face in my hands, just to know how it would feel against my skin.
It’s his eyes that capture me, though. His hazel eyes are darker, the blue around the iris’ lost in their depth. The way he’s looking at me causing my stomach to flutter, the butterflies beginning to take flight. He holds my stare without saying a word. The intensity overwhelms me, forcing me to finally break eye contact and focus on his lips instead.
Bad idea.
“So, you are still awake.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips he’s trying to suppress. When I look up at him, I find him staring at the candlestick I still have raised over my head. It causes his dimple to make an appearance, the deep groove making his attractive face even more beautiful.
Slowly lowering it, I take a step back so he can come in. “Still working on the profile.”
“How’s that going?” he asks, walking over to the desk, his eyes scanning the photos that are scattered everywhere.
“Slowly. Why are you here?” My feet will me to move toward him, but I stay planted by the open door as he continues to study my work.
He doesn’t answer me right away, the tension in the room building. It gives me time to take him in, his back facing me. He’s in need of a haircut, the hair around the nape of his neck curling randomly. His shoulders seem broader as they taper down to his narrow waist. And just below that, his mouth-watering ass. The perfect accessory to the rest of his body. I can only imagine how tight it is beneath his jeans. They fit him like a glove, accentuating the perfect heart shape.
My attention is still fixated on his ass when I notice him begin to turn. Flicking my eyes away, I focus on the wall behind him. As soon as he speaks, his deep, sensual voice grabs my attention.
“You think she knew him,” he says as our eyes meet.
“It’s a strong possibility.”
“Why?” Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Jay crosses his arms over his chest, causing his shirt to stretch to accommodate his large frame, and leans back against the desk.
“Gut feeling, I guess. You and I both know Sam used to walk through the park on her way home all the time. If we knew that, so did other people. Not to mention no one heard her scream, and she was less than five hundred feet from the nearest house. She wouldn’t have screamed if she felt safe walking with someone.”
“Your theory solidifies your timeline. If she knew him, he could have made her feel comfortable and then taken her down with the hit to her head. After that, he would have covered her mouth and tied her up. What I don’t understand is why. If she was already knocked out, why tie her up? Why cover her mouth? What was the point?” Turning back toward the desk, Jay seems to be searching for something in particular.
The words are out of my mouth before I can sensor myself. “He was probably going to rape her.”
Jay’s shoulders tense as he reaches to pick up my notepad. “Why didn’t he?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe because she wasn’t alert. Perhaps he wasn’t given the chance. I want to listen to all the interviews. If they talked to him, I’m hoping his voice will give something away.”
Jay nods as he reads through my notes before setting them back on the desk and turning to face me again. Our eyes lock, and I suddenly feel like the shy college student I was the first time I met him, unable to speak. I feel everything, though. He’s communicating with me, and what I’m reading in his gaze has my heart pounding faster, louder, begging to be freed. To be held by the one man who has the ability to heal the broken pieces.
“Why are you really here, Jay?” I finally ask, forcing my eyes to remain locked on his as I channel any ounce of inner strength I can muster.
“I wanted to talk.” The way his voice drops, I know he’s not referring to the case. “We never did get to have that conversation you promised me.”
“What conversation?” I ask, breaking eye contact when my voice begins to shake as I pretend to not remember the last night we were alone together. The way his body felt pressed against mine. The guilt that haunted me in the minutes, days, and weeks that followed.
It takes Jay three long strides to reach me. He stops directly in front of me, places his finger under my chin, and tilts it up until I’m staring directly into his eyes as he pushes the door closed with his other hand.
“Things have changed, Drea.” His voice is filled with purpose but also desire.
“I know that.” I barely manage to squeak out the words.
“Do you want to know what hasn’t changed?”
It’s a trick question. Don’t answer it.
“No.” Clearing my throat, I straighten my shoulders, focus on the dimple on his left cheek, and try to ignore the longing in my heart. “Everything has changed, Jay. Sam died and a part of me died along with her.”
“Why are you shaking then? Why are you breathing like you just ran two miles on the treadmill? Why can’t you look me in the eyes when you lie to me?”
Jay’s
right hand cups my cheek, and I involuntarily lean into it, my eyes falling closed. Warm. His skin is always so warm. Or maybe it’s because he lights a fire inside of me and has since the moment I met him.
“It’s always been you. Since the very first day.” His words are barely above a whisper even though we’re alone. Even though we’re standing closer than we have in years. Closer than we should be.
“You were with Sam. We couldn’t be together.”
“And now?”
Opening my eyes, I muster all the strength I have left in my body to fight my attraction to him. “Now we’re celebrating her life. We’re here to remember the person she was, the person we both loved. To find closure so we can move on with our lives.”
Taking a step back, Jay stares down at me, his six-foot-two frame making me feel small even though I’m taller than most girls at five-foot-six.
“Do you remember the night after we met each other?” He closes the distance between us again, and I match his movement, stepping back. “I came into the bar to pick up Sam after work.”
“Yeah. I offered her a ride, but she said you insisted on picking her up. She was so excited to introduce us.” The look of excitement when Sam spotted Jay across the room is something I’ll never forget. She waved her fuzzy pen over her head at him. When I turned to see who she was waving at, my stomach dropped.
“I was going to break up with her that night. I’d spent two days thinking about you. Looking for you everywhere. Watching out my front window for your Jeep …” His voice trails off as he closes his eyes and sidesteps me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“What stopped you?”
“I saw you. I saw the expression on Sam’s face. Her only real friend was Mia and Mia had Spencer. I couldn’t take you from her because I knew if I did, the chances you and I would get together were slim. If I hurt Sam, you wouldn’t run into my waiting arms the way I wanted you to. You’d run the other way. You ‘would be there to comfort Sam.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have. The moment I found out you were dating Sam my heart sank. I also vowed not to break her heart by betraying her, no matter how much I wanted you. The way I felt stopped mattering the moment you walked into the bar that night. Sam and I had only just met, but I knew we would be friends forever. She was the happiest person I’d ever met, and I couldn’t destroy her spirit. That’s not what friends do, no matter how long they’ve known each other.”
“But we did. Betray her. More than once.”
His words cut deep. A reminder of the only bad thing I’ve ever done in my life. A reminder that I need to be strong in his presence because even though Sam’s gone, he belonged to her and she deserves my loyalty in death since I couldn’t give it to her in life.
“We can’t change what happened, what we did. I’m glad she never found out. It would have broken her heart. That doesn’t make it okay. It doesn’t make it any less unforgivable.” Turning my head as I speak so he can’t see the devastation on my face, I stare at the discarded candle on the desk, focusing on the burnt wick. Its blackness stands out against the cream color of the wax.
Jay quickly pushes himself off the bed, ’his hands on my hips before I can protest. I’m staring at his sculpted chest, the fabric of his T-shirt barely accommodating his muscles. I wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped in half from the tiniest tug of my hands.
All I’d have to do is reach up and grab his collar. Stretch the fabric to its breaking point, and with one ripping motion, his chest would be bare to me. I could trace the outline of every muscle with my fingertips. Or better yet, with my tongue. Find out exactly what he’s hiding under the cheap cotton.
Does he have more tattoos?
Is he as sculpted as I imagine he is?
“Drea,” Jay whispers softly as he leans in, his breath mingling with mine. “I want to kiss you. I need to know there’s still something between us. There’s no one standing in our way except us.”
And the memories of my dead best friend. His dead girlfriend.
“It’s too late,” I state firmly.
“Too late for what?”
“For us. For this. Too much time has passed. There are too many things weighing on me still.”
“The guilt doesn’t go away, Drea. It never will. I feel it, too. I’m choosing to find happiness to drown out the guilt. To move on with my life because you never know how long you have. If there’s anything we can learn from Sam’s death, let it be that. Life is short. Live it to its fullest while you can. She was a free spirit. She lived. She would want you to do the same, no matter who you choose to be with.”
Jay places his finger beneath my chin again and raises my head until I’m getting lost in his gorgeous hazel eyes. The blue around his irises’ glimmers in the dull light of the lamp.
I want to tell him yes. I want to choose him. I want to see if there’s still something more between us.
More than anything, I want him to kiss me to prove there is still something there.
There’s no denying I can feel it. My heart wants him. It always has. As much as I tried to ignore the nagging feelings of lust, they never went away. Never dulled. Even when I’d see him kiss Sam. Or when she ‘would show up at my apartment, freshly ravished.
My heart still yearned for him. To be with him. To claim him as mine.
After five years, I was hoping that feeling would have subsided. Seeing him again has done the exact opposite. The feelings I spent years pushing away, hiding from, have been rejuvenated. My heart feels like it’s beating again for the first time since I left here.
All because of him.
The one man I want but still won’t allow myself to have.
No amount of time will be enough to erase the guilt for the way I feel. About him. About what happened.
The guilt over the part I played in Sam’s death.
The guilt over wanting Jay. Over kissing him.
Of not telling Sam the truth. Lying to her every time she asked me what was wrong. Why I didn’t want to hang out. Why I wouldn’t give guys a chance.
I wasn’t a good friend to Sam. I was the worst kind of person. A liar and a cheat.
She deserved so much better in a best friend. She deserved someone who had her best interest at heart, the way she had theirs. Someone who cared about her feelings more than their own.
I wasn’t that person when she was alive, but I can be that person now. I can put aside the longing and focus on finding justice for the wrongs that have been committed.
Instead of answering Jay, my lips part and nothing comes out.
He searches my eyes for the answer I can’t put into words. The truth. My confession. Whatever he sees causes him to release my chin and slowly back away, letting himself out without a word.
Just like the last time he walked away from me.
And my reaction to his departure is identical. My tears flow freely as I stare at the door he just closed behind him. Silently begging Sam for forgiveness that I don’t deserve. Praying that my love for her will at some point outweigh the love I’ve been carrying around for him.
Chapter Eight
After crying myself to sleep, I dreamt of Sam. Of the first time we met. Her bright, welcoming smile. The crazy pen she gave me to use when I couldn’t find one in my purse. How she made serving drinks seem more like fun than work.
Of the night she helped me unpack my apartment. The bottle of cheap, red wine we shared. Her studying every book as she put them on the shelf. Reading the descriptions on the back and asking me if any of them were worth reading. If I believed in true love because I read romance novels.
Her laughing at the idea while I contemplated telling her about my encounter that afternoon. How I was beginning to believe in love at first sight. The way it felt like my heart gave itself to someone else without asking for permission. Biting my tongue when she made fun of my favorite novel, saying the storyline wasn’t believable.
No one falls in love that quick.
My dream is a mash-up of all the moments we shared before I met Jay.
She talked about him a lot in the few weeks we knew each other. It almost felt like I knew him before we were introduced.
Maybe that’s why the guilt was so consuming. Because I knew she was in love with him even though she was afraid to admit it to herself. Because I saw the stars in her eyes when she’d say his name. Because I wanted what she had.
Before I knew who he was.
Before I knew it was the guy who’ saved me from falling on my face.
I wanted what she had with my mystery guy.
And then my mystery guy turned out to be her boyfriend. The guy who brought her mother flowers when he picked Sam up for their first date. The same guy who was always giving her funky pens for work because he said the fuzzy tops reminded him of her colorful hair. The guy who sent her cute texts while she was at work saying he missed her, wanting to know if she needed a ride home so she didn’t have to walk.
Jay was a gentleman. He showered Sam with affection. Was always buying her little gifts and bringing them to her at work. He drove her around whenever her car broke down and never once complained.
He was perfect.
He was also hers.
I never told Sam about my mystery guy. I had intended to but when she arrived that night to help me unpack, she was in a foul mood. It had been a rough night at work. One of the locals in town had been harassing her all night, hitting on her even though she flat out told him she had a boyfriend. We drank wine, and I let her make fun of my romance novels and bitch while we unpacked until we both passed out from a mixture of exhaustion and too much alcohol.
Not that I forgot about him after that day. Nope. Jay’s timing just happened to be as perfect as he was. He showed up to pick her up the next night as I launched into my story. I was just to the part in the story where I tripped when he walked in. My story was long forgotten as I watched her run across the now empty bar and launch herself into his arms.
A Moment Too Late Page 7
