The truth is, he was polite. He was charismatic and good-looking. And had I not known I was there to psychoanalyze a serial killer, I would have wanted him to ask me out. He had this way about him, this aura. It sucked me in. Ihad to check myself a few times because I never, not once, saw the monster inside him. Not for a single second during my interviews with him. We were always alone, even though there was a guard outside the door. It was exhilarating. Thrilling even. Every time he would lean into my space, he would speak slowly and considerately. It felt like I was the only person in the world to him.
It was the most terrifying experience of my life. Because despite everything I knew about him, my body didn’t catch up with my brain. My body leaned in too. It moved toward him, mirrored him. At one point, I felt like he was testing me to see how far he could get me to shift my position to match his. It was terrifying how much Iwasn’tterrified of him. Those girls never stood a chance.
It made me question my ability to do my job. Made me question whether I was a good psychologist and if I’d made a mistake getting into this line of work. I thought about quitting at my lowest moment. But Anthony would talk me down, commending me for taking on such a brutal task of assessing this man. It was clear he had done it, the evidence irrefutable. Even if my body didn’t quite understand, my brain eventually took control, and when I gave my professional opinion on the stand, his true nature came out. Just for a second. But I saw it. The darkness behind his eyes. The unhinged look that I’m sure was the lastthing all those women saw. Just pure, unadulterated rage.
“Sorry . . . I didn’t realize it was a thing,” Jonesy mutters.
I swallow hard, fighting back the urge to cry.
I cannot cry in front of him.
He’s already seen me in the midst of a nightmare. I’ve revealed too much already. Usually, I can keep myself together for the sake of dinner club nights, but seeing him so much this week has my defenses wearing down. He was always the one who could read me best in college. He always knew when something was wrong. The vulnerability of crying in front of him is far too exposing for me to swallow. It would feel too much like losing the game that we play.
“When I got back, everyone asked me what it was like over there,” he murmurs into my ear. I’m confused for a split second until I realize he’s talking about when he went overseas to Afghanistan with the army. “Strangers would ask if I’d killed anyone, if I’d seen anyone get blown up or shot, even beheaded.” His hand finds mine in the dark and squeezes gently before interlacing our fingers. “I wanted to tell everyone to fuck off all the time. It was then that I told myself, I’d never be that person. I’d never ask the dumb question. But I’ve done it, and I’m sorry.”
His admission stuns me, and I’m unsure if the squirm in my chest is because I’m grateful he’s been the first to let their guard down, or ifI’m uncomfortable that he might expect me to do the same.
“It’s fine. It's not a big deal. It’s just boring to talk about now. It was literally all I thought about for a year. It was all about the case. I just want to move on.”
“And the case was a year ago?”
“Yeah.” I turn my head to face him. The slight gap in the curtains spilled moonlight onto his face. His frown is back, the scruff of his beard clean and trimmed. I’ve never seen him look scruffy or unkempt. Well, not since college. Since he joined the army, he’s been so meticulous. I almost ache to think what he looks like disheveled.
“Same time that your nightmares started.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. He nods, looking away briefly. “It doesn’t make you weak to talk to someone or ask for help. We all need that sometimes.”
“I’m fine, Jonesy.” I pat his hand a few times. “Fine,” I repeat.
“Uh huh. Sure. And I’m a master at playing the ukulele, I got offered to go on tour with Ed Sheeran before he got famous.”
I roll my eyes.
“Come on,” he says. “Lie back and let me take care of you tonight. I’ll keep any monsters out of reach, and you can just sleep.”
I shuffle back into the position of the little spoon as his arm cradles me protectively.
He doesn’t realize it yet, but it’s become clearas day to me. I’m not keeping the monster from my dream away anymore. I’ve invited him into my bed and allowed myself to tuck right in whilst wearing his shirt.
Chapter Eleven
Jonesy
The dinner club is gathered in Lottie’s living room, sitting around the coffee table, playing Clue. Katie sits opposite me, between Lottie and Mia, who is nestled against Alfie. They’re sickeningly in love, and I’m pleased for him. Alfie always swore he’d never settle down owing to the fact that his own father, a renowned psychologist, could never give one hundred percent to his family. Alfie’s mom had been pretty miserable when they were growing up, and it left Alfie believing he couldn’t have both a healthy, meaningful home life and a career where he gave his all to his patients. Nearly losing Mia a few months ago gave him the kick up the ass he needed. Caleb and I helped with that, too.
I watch Katie studying the board, her usual competitiveness in full force tonight as we vie for the win. I’ve caught her looking at me a few times with scrunched brows, as if she’s trying to figure out what it is that we’re doing here. I heldher all night last night, and we haven’t discussed it at all. No surprise there. But did she wake up having a nightmare? Nope. Not a damn whimper came out of her mouth. She got a full ten hours, and I held her the entire time. I wasn’t going to risk her losing a wink of sleep by moving, so I held on, stroking her ribs with my thumb, snuggling myself against her warm body.
We haven’t talked about what the plan is for tonight’s sleeping arrangements, but given that we’re both drinking, I assume we’ll both be staying here at Lottie’s house. I’m sure as hell not sleeping on the damn cot, so I know we’ll be sharing a bed again. Whether she wants to fight me on it first is another story. But I bet after sleeping through the night, she’ll be thinking maybe it’s worth it.
I can’t believe it was only a week ago that I snuck into the spare room and got into bed with her. After years of fighting and competitive bullshit, we might be coming out the other side. I don’t believe one good night’s sleep is gonna sort out our issues, but hell, it’s a good start. And it doesn't hurt that I’m the one helping her. Even when I was the only one who didn’t know about the nightmares in the first place, didn’t know that she was working on the Thomas Vale case, I’m still the one who’s making her feel better now.
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I think it’s...pride. I know I’m a good man. I havegood friends around me, good people who rely on me, and I have a great relationship with my family. But this rivalry with Katie has always been a thorn in my side. It’s always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough or a good person. If I can fix this with her, who knows? Maybe we’ll finally be real friends again, like we were in college. Maybe even more than friends.
Before Afghanistan, we’d kissed. One life-altering, nothing-is-going-to-be-the-same-again kiss, and then I left. I’d dreamed about it when I was overseas. I’d held on to the image of the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, the way her lips stretched into the biggest smile after we pulled back. The feel of her fingers pulling at my hair. I’d dreamed about it every night, knowing that when I got home, I was going to tell her I wanted to be with her, that I loved her, and that nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to change that. But after coming home, Katie was different. Angry. Indifferent to my return home. Parading a two-pump chump in front of me like he was God’s gift to women. She barely acknowledged me unless I was annoying her or beating her at some stupid board game. And thus started the bickering, the rivalry, the incessant need to irritate her into reacting. Just to get some attention from her.
I’ve kept my feelings for her tempered, on the edge of my chest. They loomed over every interaction we’ve had the last eight years or sosince I returned home. She’s shown me time and time again that she’s not interested in anything more than our current unspoken arrangement up until this week. Now those feelings I’ve had are creeping closer and closer to the front line, holding steady as I watch her lower her weapons. She’s skittish; at any moment, the defenses could come back up, but I want to keep trying. This is the closest we’ve come in a long time to actually enjoying each other’s company. I want that.I need it.Christ, I didn’t realize how much I needed it.
“How’s the case going?” Alfie asks, and I watch as the rest of the group’s ears perk up.
“Yeah, we’re dying to know,” Caleb chimes in with all the subtlety of a damn bull.
