Even though I knew he was joking, his words hit their mark. “No, I’ve still got my thunder, dammit.”
“That’s right,” he said and turned me toward the first simmer pot he saw. “Listen, Jackson will be fine. He worked cases worse than Jarrod’s all the time before coming here. He’s a certified badass. Almost as badass as me.”
I rolled my eyes at the never-ending battle between police and fire departments. “Can we just agree that you’re both pretty and have great hair?”
“Sure, as long as you also admit I run into burning buildings. No gun and no judge’s signature necessary.”
“Fine, Rafe. I admit that you do your job and you do it beautifully.”
He grinned, pleased at my half-assed attempt at praise.
“Seriously, he’ll be fine. So stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried,” I told him as I whipped up a shredded prime rib sandwich. “Today’s special, just for you.”
“Damn, I love Tuesdays and that leftover prime rib.” He smiled even as his stomach growled, and that was all the praise I needed. “Extra sauce, thanks. And some of that bacon jam, if you’ve got any left over.”
“Just made a few dozen jars last night.” Okay, it had been twelve dozen jars, but no one needed to know that. My obsessions were my own, thank you very much.
“Too bad you couldn’t have created this sauce before the calendar nonsense, you could have saved us all.”
“And deprive myself of the fun of watching you all avoid the women in search of eye candy? And said eye candy? I don’t think so, Rafe, not even for you.”
“Traitor.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t count when it’s for charity.”
“Interesting rules of yours, Reese. Tell me more.”
I flipped him off and Rafe just laughed. “Keep messing with me and I’ll put ketchup on this.”
His face churned in disgust, just as I knew it would.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Jackson had better hurry up and get back. I don’t like this cruel woman you’re turning into, threatening such awful things.” The man had a serious hate-on for ketchup, and especially on barbecue sandwiches.
“This isn’t because of him, Rafe, this is what you get when you torture the hand that feeds you.” Smiling, I handed him the plate holding the big sandwich dripping with barbecue sauce and two handfuls of thick-cut sweet potato fries. “That’s just fun.”
“Just an idea: Maybe tell Jackson how you feel the next time you see him? Save the rest of us this whole sad bastard routine.”
“Jackson knows I like him. We spend enough time together and his ego is intact. Believe me.”
Rafe sighed. “You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but you’re both too scared and too stupid to do anything about it.”
I frowned, not understanding his anger. “Hit close to home?”
“Hell, yeah. Don’t be stupid, Reese. Jackson is a good guy and he’s invested in this town. He’s here to stay.”
I nodded because I understood what Rafe was saying, but that didn’t help when it came to one inescapable truth: Jackson wasn’t here now. And there was no guarantee the ATF, the FBI, or even the Marshals wouldn’t offer him the opportunity of a lifetime. “We’ll see.”Reese“Thanks for spending some time with me today, Aunt Bette. I had a good time.” I flashed a small smile in the face of her confused expression.
She clearly wanted to correct me and tell me she wasn’t my aunt, but Bette couldn’t be entirely sure. “Thank you for visiting with me, young lady. It was a special moment that was all ours.”
Young lady. No different than ‘hey you, over there’ or any other vague greeting. As far as she was concerned, that was who I was—just some woman who had nothing better to do than interrupt her time with the friends she did remember.
I smiled gently and stood. “Thanks for your time,” I told her and turned my back to her, hiding the way her words lanced at me like a knife. It was time to get out of this room and out of this building before I did something I hadn’t done in years—break down and cry.
“How did your visit go today?” I swear, the administrator was a ninja, jumping around without making a sound.
I shrugged off the thoughtful question. “She’s not getting better and there’s nothing I can do about it, so it went as well as can be expected.”
“It’s not completely hopeless,” she said gently. “She still has good moments.”
No matter how good her prognosis was or how logical the other responses were, it just wasn’t worth it. “I know you say that, I just wish a few of those moments took place when I was here and able to appreciate them.” I realized what a bitchy statement that was and paused. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s all right. This is hard on everyone.”
Understatement of the century. “Thanks again. For everything.” I rushed through the exit before she could find anymore words of encouragement that wouldn’t have any such effect on me. Nothing but time would make this close to okay, and it would be a long damn time before that happened.