Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

With a growl of frustration, he turned and strode into the living room. She didn’t want his comfort. He was just there to protect her. A job. She was a job.

Not an official job, the small voice whispered in the back of his mind. You’re here because you want to be here. No one is making you. He looked back at the open doorway. She needs you.

Matt shook his head to clear it.

She didn’t need him right now. She’d made that clear. As he made up the sofa bed, he came up with a plan. He’d leave the living room door open, and if he heard anything that worried him he’d go up and check on her.

He stripped to his boxers, climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. Straight up to the spot where Jena slept. Alone. Hurting. His ears strained for the slightest noise. One whimper was all it would take, and he’d allow himself to take care of her.

Jena stripped off the clothes she’d taken so much time to choose. The shoes thunked as they hit the floor. The dress pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it and left it there. She didn’t have the heart to pick it up. She just wanted to leave it where it fell and let it rot away. The wonderful lingerie she bought at Kirsty’s shop, before she’d run out of money, followed the dress and landed in a heap at her feet.

She tugged open the drawer to the old dresser she’d sanded and painted pale pink and pulled out her favourite pyjamas. They were years old, the cotton bottoms faded to the point where you couldn’t make out the pattern anymore. The matching vest top had thinned over time, becoming so soft she barely felt it against her skin. Once she was dressed, she headed to the bathroom, where she painstakingly removed every hint of makeup still left on her face.

A few minutes later, she was tucked under her thick duvet, staring into the darkness, wishing she could run away. But where would she go? Even if she had the money. She had nowhere to go. And running was stupid. Coming to Invertary proved that. It didn’t matter where she went; the same problem would always be there—her.

Suddenly the last thing Jena wanted was to be alone with her thoughts. Her eyes went to the door as she thought of Matt downstairs. He’d offered her comfort. She hoped the offer was still open.

Before she could second-guess herself, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. The lights were out, but the living room glowed with moonlight that filtered through the curtains. Matt was stretched out on the small pull-out couch, the bedding pulled up over him, one hand slung above his head, the other on his stomach. His very bare stomach. Jena chewed her lip as she hesitated on the threshold. Torn between longing and unworthiness. In the end, it was his scent that made the choice for her. The room smelled like Matt. Fresh, musky and solid. And tonight she needed solid.

Her steps towards him were silent.

She stopped beside the bed. Was he asleep? “Matt?” she whispered.

“Come here.” His deep voice startled her.

A solid arm wrapped around her and jerked her down into the bed and to his side. Her cheek was singed by the heat of his chest as her head rested against him. Her hand was a fist on his stomach.

“I just want to cuddle,” Jena whispered.

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head.

Jena slowly relaxed against him. He engulfed her senses. A cocoon of muscle, strength and warmth. They lay in silence for the longest time. Aware that neither of them had given in to sleep. Jena soaked up his comfort. The sound of his heartbeat soothed her. His steady breathing gently rocked her cares away.

“I’ve never set anyone on fire before.”

Matt gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

She pinched his side. “Behave.”

“Menace,” he grumbled.

“So I’ve been told.” She took a shaky breath and blew it out into the darkness. “Why do these things keep happening to me, Matt?”

His hand stroked her arm as it lay on his chest. “I’ve been thinking about this. I think it’s a distraction thing. When your mind isn’t totally focused on something you get clumsy, or you cause whoever is with you to get clumsy. It’s not you. When you’re concentrating, your grace is a thing of beauty.”

She snuggled into him. “I feel really bad about Bob.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “He’s fine. You heard the doc.”

She felt her bottom lip tremble. “Are people really calling me Calamity?”

“Don’t worry about it, they don’t mean anything by it. It will pass.”

“No, it won’t. I’m a disaster.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I am. What about the other dates I’ve had? Patrick with his broken toes…”