Anything but that.
I run my tongue along my teeth, trying to figure out her angle here and drawing a blank. Why the fuck would she ever want that? She’s already perfect. I pat the bed beside me. “Explain, please.”
The way Jenny huffs and slumps her way across the bedroom, you’d think she was walking to the gallows, her baggy red pajama pants dragging along the floor. And I’m fairly confident that she’s not afraid of me now—she knocked on my door at night, didn’t she?—but that attitude brings out my scowl.
“There’s nothing to change,” I growl, shuffling over to make room for her. The bed dips slightly under her weight, but Jenny doesn’t lean back against the headboard. She stays ramrod straight, fingers locked in her lap and her eyes on the wall. She’s still wearing that tight white t-shirt. “Jenny? Are you listening? There’s nothing to change. No flaws.”
Her snort is bitter. “Don’t bullshit me, Lincoln. I’m not a child.” Her fingers lock tighter, the pads of her nails going white. “I know I’m weird. A shut-in. I mean, I barely leave the apartment and I’m afraid of the smallest things. I don’t even know how I got like this, how I got so freaking scared of everything, but being around you all the time…”
I wait, heart in my throat.
“I don’t want to stay like this,” Jenny whispers, head dropping down. “Not forever. I want to be bold, like you.”
Ah, fuck. I rub my chest, a horrible ache there spreading under my skin. “You don’t want to change, sweetheart. And you definitely don’t want to be like me. You’ve got everything going for you here: your sewing, your apartment…”
“…And?” When Jenny turns to me, spearing me with her blue eyes, she looks so fucking sad. It steals my breath. “What else, Lincoln? Sewing and this apartment. What else do I have?”
Me.
She could have me, but I’m not fool enough to say that. This is about Jenny, and besides: I’m no prize. Telling her that would be like kicking her when she’s down. What am I gonna offer her, my life-in-a-backpack and collection of cameras? Yeah, right.
“You’re funny. You’ve got a good heart, and a quick brain. There’s a lot of things—”
Jenny’s mouth flattens into a line. She’s staring at the wall again. “Will you help me or not?”
What am I gonna say to that? Wordless, I nod.
The breath that gusts out of her sounds relieved. The bed frame creaks as she shifts, pajama pants rustling.
“We’ll start tomorrow.” Now that she’s got her way, she’s little-miss-prim again. Bossy Jenny. I bite back a smile, but I’m too chewed up inside to really enjoy this. Why would she ever want to change? “I was thinking, maybe I could come with you on your shoot? I finished all my sewing work earlier. I’m free, if you’ll have me.”
Always.
Any way I can get her.
…Fuck.