End of Day (Jack & Jill 1)

“Luke?” she whispered. “Say something.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What … I-I did.”

He rubbed his lips together. “No. Edwin Harvey committed suicide.”

Jessica shook her head. “What are you talking about? Who’s Edwin Harvey?”

“The man who killed your friend.”

“He’s Four … that was his name because he cut my best friend forty-four times!” She yanked her hands from his and scooted back on the bed. “Don’t you dare call him that! Four. His name was Four. He wasn’t human. He was a goddamn piece of shit without a heart or soul. He didn’t deserve one single breath of oxygen, let alone a name to make him sound like a person with feelings and parents and a fucking life!”

Luke surrendered with his hands up. “You’re right. He didn’t deserve any of it, and he deserved to die…” his face winced into a pleading expression of pain as his chest tightened “…but you didn’t kill him, Jessica. It wasn’t your fault.”

She looked at him with a vacant stare, lips slightly parted, knees hugged to her chest. “Who told you that?” Her voice was flat and eerily calm.

“A friend of mine did some research. It was on the news, in the papers, viral online. His parents are very wealthy. I’m sure that’s why he was out on bail. The police report ruled it a suicide. He left a note before he drove off the bridge. They never found his body. Why would you think you killed him?”

“Because I did and I need you to believe me.”

“Jess—”

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Do you believe me?”

Luke moved toward her and she jumped off the bed like a frightened animal, easing toward the door.

“Stop.”

She shook her head. “I trusted you …” She turned and ran down the stairs then out the front door.

Luke followed her, calling her name. She hopped along grabbing one sandal and then the other, tossing them into the ditch before surging forward in an all-out sprint. His casual loafers were no match for her insane determination. Eventually, she disappeared, fading into the darkness. He slowed in breathless defeat, bending over with his hands propped on his knees. He tried to save her, but instead she slipped from his grasp.

Defeat heavy on his shoulders, Luke returned to the house. He closed the door and looked up with a heavy sigh.

“She’s in love with you,” his mom said, sitting on the bottom step in her grey terrycloth robe and slippers.

Luke blinked, staring at the floor. “She’s troubled. I’m not sure she knows how to love like that.”

Felicity stood, walking to her son. She rested her palms on his cheeks until he looked at her. “I love seeing you through her eyes. Not Dr. Jones, but my beautiful, troubled boy.” She smiled “Good night, love.” Felicity walked up a few steps and turned. “Loving you, Luke … it might be the only thing she knows how to do.”

His mother knew virtually nothing about Jessica, but somehow she felt everything. He went upstairs and waited in Jessica’s room, letting his mind battle with the fear that she was unstable, distraught, and alone in a strange place late at night. No shoes, no jacket, no phone, no Luke.

He sat in the chair by her bed for over two hours. Just as each blink struggled to recover, heavy with exhaustion, Jessica walked in the room. Without the slightest glance in his direction, she stumbled to the bathroom, pools of sweat covered her heat flushed skin. Luke stood. Leaving the door open, back to him, she turned on the shower and peeled off her clothes.

He moved toward her—regretful, conflicted, aroused.

Jessica froze as he stood a breath away from her naked body. She balled her fists, pumping them over and over.

Long dark hair veiled tan skin pulled taut over defined muscles, the kind that served a purpose far beyond what a young woman in her twenties should ever have to fathom. She was fear wrapped in strength greater than anything Luke had ever seen. He broke into a million pieces. Every piece was hers. He was ready to walk through the flames, sacrifice everything for her … one woman … the woman.

A lone drip of blood splattered on the tile at her feet. Luke’s eyes retraced its path. Several more drips pooled at her hand where her fingernails broke the skin.

“Do you believe me?” she whispered, like every last ounce of hope evaporated with her words.

He gathered her hair, pulling it off her neck. Pressing his lips to her skin he answered, “Yes.”

She turned, a stream of tears melting down her cheeks. “Luke.” Her voice cracked as her lower lip quivered.

Maybe his mom was right. Maybe the thing that he’d been holding back was the one thing Jessica needed more than anything else. It felt like the most inexplicable thing ever. Their relationship had surpassed inappropriate several lifetimes over. Yet, he swept away her tears and kissed her. It was a kiss that told all reason to fuck off.