Taking the Heat (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 3)

She shouldn’t have let him leave like that. Not with his father still in danger. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against her own skin. She wanted to chase after him and hold him and tell him everything was fine, that she was fine. But she felt stupid for even considering it.

This wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t her boyfriend. They’d had sex a few times and they hadn’t even pretended to be in love. It had been a hookup. Now it was over, and his mind was already back in New York, where he belonged.

Gabe had been an amazing lover. More than she’d ever hoped for. But it was over now, so she let him go. For good.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE SHOW WENT well as far as Veronica could tell. She talked. People laughed and cheered. A martini was delivered but she just let it sit. She’d lost her taste for fun pink drinks. She had no idea what she was saying, but she wasn’t the least bit scared this time.

She wrapped up the evening by offering a quick answer to one extra note, figuring she might as well take advantage of her sorrow-fueled bravery. “Yes, of course,” she started, “you should write thank-you notes. Everybody should still write thank-you notes, preferably on real paper! But here’s the flip side of graciousness. If you want to be a gracious person, you don’t get to be shitty about other people not writing thank-you notes. Sorry, but that’s the way it works.”

Several people loudly disagreed, but most cheered. Veronica waved goodbye and promised to see everyone next week. Then she escaped to the office.

She didn’t collapse into the chair with relief as she usually did. Instead she sank slowly down and stared at her hands, at a loss for what to do now. She’d have to see Dillon for that drink, but she still had ten minutes to waste. She could just stare at her phone.

Suddenly alarmed that she might have missed Gabe’s call, she dug her phone out and checked, but no, there were no messages or texts or missed calls.

When a shadow fell over her, the stupid sudden thought that Gabe was back flashed through her mind, but she looked up to see Lauren. Of course. Lauren had said that she and Jake were coming, and Isabelle had joined them, as well.

“That was even better than the first night! Are you coming out?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Veronica answered, trying to look cheerful.

“Hey, are you all right? Is it Gabe’s dad? I know he’s in the hospital.”

“I haven’t heard anything yet. He said he’d get in touch when he could, but...” Everything else welled up, wanting to spill out of her mouth, but Veronica held it back. She couldn’t hold back the tears, though.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lauren cooed, crouching down to wrap her arms around Veronica. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded, because it would be okay. Gabe’s dad would be fine. He had to be, because his family needed him.

And she’d be fine, too. Gabe had been her first lover, and it was over now, and she’d be fine. She should just be glad it hadn’t gone on longer, because it would’ve hurt so much more.

But God...she’d wanted it to go on longer. It would all be okay, but it wasn’t fair.

She nodded and moved away from Lauren. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. I promised to have a drink with someone, but it should be over with quickly. Will you wait for me?”

“Absolutely.” Lauren pulled some tissues from her purse and handed them to Veronica. “I’ll see you in a few.”

Back to feeling numb again, Veronica dabbed at her damp eyes and then got out her makeup bag.

She didn’t want to see Dillon at all, but she refused to let him see her upset. She wasn’t weak and scared anymore. She was brave and real and confident. There was nothing Dillon could say to make her small again. She was above him. Whatever she’d failed at in life, she’d never, ever been cruel.

Treating it as war paint, she darkened the liner around her eyes and glossed her lips with a shiny red that made her look as if she’d just snacked on some poor man’s jugular. Fuck all of them.

She was glad she’d gotten good at wearing her clothes as a costume. Or maybe armor. Whichever it was, she felt protected from the world as she stood and opened the door. She was tall in her heels and cool as a winter wind in her midnight-blue sheath. Nothing could hurt her.

Dillon was seated in the front of the room, near the bar. She’d spotted him smiling at her during the show and then refused to look in his direction again. Now she stared dead into his eyes as she approached, letting her lip curl a little when his gaze swept down her legs. Apparently, he’d gotten over his aversion to her body.

“Veronica!” he called out, standing as she approached. He reached out as if he meant to give her a hug, but she stopped at the chair opposite his and sat down.

“Dillon. What can I do for you?”

He looked confused by the question as his hands fell back to his sides. Frowning, he took a seat. “I just wanted to see you again. Catch up a little.”

“Why?”

He sat back in his seat and studied her for a moment. “What can I get you to drink?”