Jetway

by Becca Jameson

  She didn’t move. Didn’t run from the room. In fact, she might have been almost smiling.

  So, he kept talking. “I know you’ve been through a lot and this wasn’t in your plans. But it wasn’t in my plans either. And yet, here we are. Planless and undeniably attracted to each other. I could leap across this couch and pounce on you, but I think it would be better if I backed off.”

  She swallowed.

  He licked his lips. “I’m going to call you and ask you out, and you’re going to say yes, and we’re going to have dinner and take things slow as if this conversation never happened. Okay?”

  He held his breath and waited for her response.

  “We can try that.”

  He nodded toward her lap. “Maybe you could wear that red lacy thong and the matching bra one day.” He smiled slowly.

  “Maybe,” she teased before drawing in a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I have a pile of idiosyncrasies.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I might panic,” she added.

  “You might.”

  “Why do you have to be so nice?”

  He shrugged, giving her a half-grin. “I was raised this way. I’m that guy women won’t date because I’m too nice. Fortunately, it has never mattered because I never dated anyone anyway. Lacey was my only partner.”

  Heather breathed deeply and released it slowly. “Do you mind if I take a shower and get dressed? I feel…exposed, and I need some time to unscramble my brain.”

  “Of course not. Do you mind if I occupy my time cleaning up from breakfast? Or will it stress you out?” He meant that seriously. He wasn’t sure what sorts of domestic things might infuriate her.

  She smiled. “You’re perfectly welcome to clean up after me as long as you’re doing it to be nice. Don’t martyr yourself and then glare at me.”

  “Never.”

  She eased from the couch and backed up. “I’ll be back.”

  “Take your time.” He watched her pad from the room, his heart racing. So many things happened in the last hour. Things he never expected. It felt like they’d just covered three weeks of dating information in one sitting. He’d bared his soul to her, just as she’d done for him two weeks ago.

  They were raw.

  He needed to tread carefully and not fuck this up.

  Because Heather was the real deal. He grinned as he headed for the kitchen to clean up the breakfast mess. He wondered if he’d ever get to know who paid who in the office and how much the wagers had been.

  Chapter 6

  Heather returned to the great room thirty minutes later to find the kitchen clean, Neil sitting on the couch flipping through social media, and several items in the living room out of place.

  She chuckled. “There’s a pillow on the floor.”

  “Yep.” He smirked as he set his phone on his lap.

  “The pictures on the wall are crooked.”

  “Yep.”

  “You have no idea where I put the coasters, do you?”

  “Nope.” He reached over and swiped his fingers over the top of the end table. “The surface isn’t even porous. I don’t know why I’ve ever used coasters. Probably they were a gift or something so I just put them out.”

  “You know,” she began as she sat next to him, “you don’t have to prove to me you can be messy. I don’t care if you’re Mr. Clean or not. You have to prove to me you don’t care if I’m messy.”

  “I get that.”

  “And just so you’re not misled. I’m not messy. I’m pretty tidy. I just know that in the course of my life, I’m going to want things to happen on my timetable, not someone else’s.”

  He reached out to grab a long curl and play with it. “It’s super nice out today. There’s a new Mexican restaurant that has outdoor seating nearby. Let’s go have lunch.”

  She smiled. “You mean like a date?”

  “Yeah. Unless that stresses you out. In which case, it’s just hungry friends.”

  She chuckled. Neil was getting to her. He wasn’t taking his time either. “Okay.”

  She watched him visibly relax at her consent. An odd combination of emotions washed through her, ranging from excitement to terror. It was impossible not to be nervous, but Neil had done nothing ever to make her believe he was anything but exactly what she saw.

  He might not realize it, but his confession about how abusive his ex-wife was softened her. It told her he understood her better than anyone ever had. Any man, that was.

  They didn’t say much on the drive to the restaurant, and she let him take her hand as she followed him to an outdoor table.

  “Do you like margaritas?” he asked before the waitress came to take their order.

  “Yes. I don’t drink them often because I don’t drink much of anything often since I have to be completely sober when I work. But I like them.”

  “Let’s share one then. They’re kind of big. You don’t work for another twenty-four hours.”

  “Sounds good.” They took a quick look at the menu, agreed on fajitas for two, and placed the order all at once.

  As soon as they were alone, Neil leaned his elbows on the table and faced her. “I want to know more about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” She mimicked him, leaning on her elbows.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Ohio.”

  “And your parents are still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any contact with them?”

  “As infrequently as possible. I left nine years ago. I’ve never gone back. Sometimes my mom calls me when my dad isn’t around. It’s complicated because she’s not allowed to call me from the home phone and she doesn’t have a cell, so she goes to the neighbors’ house and uses their phone.”

  “Holy shit. That’s intense. Does your dad monitor the phone bill?”

  “Yep. He monitors every damn thing in that house. Sometimes I thought he even counted the cheerios in the box.” She shuddered, but somehow it wasn’t as difficult to talk about as she expected.

  She hadn’t shared this shit with anyone. Not ever. But Neil pulled it out of her, and it felt good. “Every few months, my mom sneaks next door and uses their phone to make sure I’m okay. It’s sad. It’s hard not to feel anger toward her.”

  “I can see that.” Neil was frowning.

  “It wasn’t quite as bad when I was little. My dad got worse over the years. He’s far more controlling now than he was back then. When I left, I didn’t tell him. My mom suspected I was planning to leave, but she never said anything. I waited until he went to work and then stuffed everything I intended to take in two suitcases, and kissed my mother goodbye.”

  “You said you had some money saved when you left home. Did you have a job in high school?”

  “Not really. The only job I ever had was babysitting for several families in the neighborhood, and I never brought much money into the house. My dad would just confiscate it, saying that I was a freeloader and owed him. So, I pretended I only made a few dollars an hour and had two of the families keep an envelope for me.”

  “Didn’t they think that was odd?”

  “Everyone in the neighborhood knew my father was abusive. Since he didn’t actually hit us, there wasn’t much they could do. If I made twenty dollars, I would leave fifteen of it and bring five home. My dad would snatch it out of my hand if he was around.”

  “Jesus.” Neil looked kind of sick. And honestly, he needed to hear all this. Or maybe Heather needed him to hear it so that he could fully understand what a fucked-up life she’d lived.

  Heather drew in a breath. “Anyway, as graduation approached, I told both families I would be leaving the day after the ceremony and that I would stop by to get the envelopes. I’ve never spoken to either family again, but I suspect they were in cahoots with each other. They both handed me a sealed envelope that morning, which I stuffed into my backpack. It wasn’t until two
days later that I sat in my motel room, assessing my finances, and counted the money.”

  Neil smiled. “Not what you were expecting I bet.”

  “Nope. Far more. And they may have saved my life or at least kept me off the streets because I really struggled for a few months.”

  “Was your father glad to get rid of you or livid?”

  “I’m going with livid. When I got a chance, I called the next-door neighbor to make sure they had seen my mom and she was okay. They were an older couple. Nothing got by them. They’d heard my father screaming for years. They told me he went into a rage when he got home that night. Drank until he passed out, sitting on the back porch. Half the neighborhood heard him. He accused my mother of helping me move out and made it clear that if I ever showed my ungrateful face in that town ever again, he would make sure I learned a lesson.”

  The waitress showed up with their huge margarita, a basket of chips, and a bowl of salsa.

  When she left, Neil reached over and took Heather’s hand. “Do you think your mom is okay?”

  Heather shrugged. “Honestly, I just don’t care. There’s nothing I can do to help her. I’ve hashed out my issues with my mother time and again with counselors. I can’t save her. She has to save herself. She comes from a line of abuse. Her father and his father before she got married. It’s all she knows. After about a year, when I was established and making it on my own in Dallas, I offered to take her in, but she turned me down. It’s just as well. I hold a lot of anger toward her inside. No amount of counseling can erase the fact that my own mother didn’t have the strength to get out of that situation to save me.”

  Neil gave her hand a squeeze.

  Heather was grateful he didn’t point out what she already knew. She did it for him. “I get it. I do. She doesn’t know how to live any other way. Blah blah blah. It doesn’t make it okay. It doesn’t excuse her. It doesn’t erase anything.”

  Neil lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  Heather leaned over and took a long sip of the margarita. “Damn, that’s good.” She sat up straighter and smiled. “We might need two of those. And let’s be done with my parents. Let’s talk about something less depressing, like your parents.”

  He chuckled and took a sip of the margarita.

  “And Amy. Your sister. She seems nice. Is she older than you?”

  “Yep. Four years older.”

  “I often wished I’d had a sibling growing up, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to live the life I lived, so I was also glad my mother never had any other kids.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Heather propped her chin on her palm and grinned. “So, tell me, did your mom make a hot meal for dinner every night and read you stories when you went to bed and build blanket forts with you on rainy days?”

  He laughed and then scrunched up his face. “Yeah. She did all those things.”

  “Did you have ice cream and birthday parties and sleepovers?” Heather was trying to make light of her fucked-up life as best she could. It no longer upset her when she heard about normal people’s lives. She kind of enjoyed hearing their stories.

  “When is your birthday?” Neil asked.

  “It was last month. On the fifth. Why?”

  He shrugged. “No reason. I just think you need a party with ice cream and pillow fights.”

  She laughed. “I’m a bit old for that now, don’t you think?”

  “Hell, no. No one is too old for birthday parties.”

  “Well, maybe not parties, but sleepovers and pillow fights.”

  “Who says?”

  “Think of the mess,” she joked.

  Neil held her gaze for a minute and then licked his lips. “Next Saturday is my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary.”

  Heather smiled. “That’s amazing.”

  “My sister is having a big party for them. Come with me.”

  Heather flinched, more shocked than anything else. She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t do that, Neil. I’ve never even met them.”

  “No one will care. I’m their son. They’d be over the moon if I showed up with a woman.”

  She searched his face. “They would think things between us are serious. No one brings a girl home if it’s not serious.”

  Neil leaned forward. “Things between us are serious, Heather. I promise to take my time and wine and dine you for as long as you need me to, but no matter what pace we move at, it changes nothing. You know it.”

  She sucked in a breath, knowing he was right. They’d all but admitted this fact several times. “I’m so fucked-up, Neil. I don’t even know what normal families look like.”

  “You’ll see. Next Saturday night. Please say yes.”

  She stared at him, heart racing. Go to a family party? The idea was nuts. She’d hardly agreed to date the man. Though she knew deep down she had. There was no slamming on the brakes here. All she could do was tap them gently over and over and hope she didn’t get hit by oncoming traffic. “What do I need to wear?”

  He grinned so broadly it was worth agreeing. “It’s at the house, but my sister had it catered. I assume most people will dress sort of nice. Not formal or anything. I’ll probably wear khakis and a button-up shirt.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” She leaned over and took another long sip of their shared drink. “We’re definitely going to need two of these.”

  Chapter 7

  Four days later, Heather was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, fuming. Her two weeks of peace and quiet had ended, and now she was back in hell. It was a special kind of hell because she was no stranger to the shitshow that went on next door. It brought bile to her mouth every time the asshole started screaming.

  It was two in the morning this time. He’d obviously come in drunk and decided to start slapping his woman around. Heather knew he did more than just scream at her. She could hear him hit her sometimes.

  Tonight, in the silence of Heather’s room, with nothing but the one thin wall between her bedroom and the neighbors’, she heard the distinct sound of a slap followed by something hitting the wall.

  Heather jumped out of bed. Whatever hit the wall—and she imagined it was probably the woman’s head—hit so hard that Heather stood panting in the dark room.

  “I’m sick and tired of your shit,” the man shouted. “Get up, bitch. Stop being such a damn baby.”

  Heather held her breath, praying the woman would get up. She heard what sounded like a heavy kick that caused something else to slam into the shared wall.

  “I said to get the fuck up off the ground, bitch,” he yelled even louder. “And stop your fucking whining. It’s annoying.”

  “Please…” The voice was soft but loud enough for Heather to hear.

  Heather blew out a breath. At least the woman was alive. This was out of control though. Heather grabbed her cell phone, palming it, wondering if she should call the cops. She’d never called before, but something about tonight’s show felt different.

  Maybe because she rarely heard from the woman.

  “Oh, good grief, bitch. You wouldn’t be bleeding if you did as you were told.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, Greg. I was sound asleep. What the hell could I possibly have done to piss you off?” Her voice was raised but shaky.

  Heather hadn’t even known the man’s name. This was the first time she’d heard the woman fight back verbally or call him by name. The development sent a chill down Heather’s spine.

  “What did you do to piss me off?” Greg shouted. “Do you want a list, bitch?”

  There was a loud gasp before the woman spoke again. “Greg. Please. Stop it. Put the knife down. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

  Knife?

  The woman screamed.

  Heather almost screamed too. She quickly dialed 911.

  “Greg. Stop. You’re drunk. Put the knife…”

  Something else slammed into the wall. Over and over again.


  Heather was shaking so badly that she dropped the phone on the floor, forgetting about the call.

  “You fucking bitch! Look what you made me do!”

  Heather dropped down onto her hands and knees to find the phone and bring it to her ear.

  “Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?” came the voice from the other end.

  “Please send the police. Please hurry.” Heather was too shook up to even think to give her address. It didn’t matter because the woman on the other end of the line rattled it off to her.

  “Which apartment, ma’am?”

  “Five ten.”

  “Okay, stay on the line with me. The police are on their way. Are you safe?”

  “Yes. It’s not me. It’s my next-door neighbor.” Another loud bang and then a crash sounded, making Heather jump back to her feet.

  The man shouted again. “You fucking bitch. I swear to God. Look what you made me do. Jesus. How the hell am I supposed to explain this, huh?”

  “Please hurry. I’m afraid he’s going to kill her,” Heather whispered. She was afraid he already had. There hadn’t been another sound coming from the woman. Heather knew the man had had a knife. Had he stabbed her?

  The smell of smoke hit Heather’s nose moments before the fire alarm started going off. “Shit,” she muttered.

  “Ma’am, are you still okay?”

  “I think he set the place on fire,” Heather shouted over the alarm.

  “Okay, can you get out? I’m sending the fire department too.”

  Heather spun around. It was hard to think. If her next-door neighbor had lit his own unit on fire, there was a solid chance Heather was never going to see anything in her apartment again. She didn’t own much of value—monetary or sentimental.

  She ended the call without a word, jammed her feet in the closest shoes she could see, and ran from the room to grab her purse. At least she’d have credit cards and an ID.

  After putting her hand on the door to her apartment, she jerked it back. The door was hot. “Shit.” Was the fire already in the hallway? She spun around and rushed for the window. She’d never opened the window in the entire year she’d been here, and it wouldn’t budge.