Page 68 of Run to Me

“Bullshit. Try again.” When I don’t respond, he pushes harder. “She’s Logan’s little sister. What would he say about it?”

“First off, Logan isn’t here. Thanks to me.”

Javi grunts in disapproval at my comment.

Jake agrees with him by saying, “Man, don’t give me that crap. Stop blaming yourself for what happened. It may have been your idea to go on that trip, but he was old enough to make his own choices. His death is not your fault, so move along. What’s your second point?”

“Maisy and I were friends. She was more important to me than she ever was to Logan.”

“Friends.” He studies me, his eyes narrowing as he mentally searches through our history. “You never mentioned it. I never saw you together.”

“It was no one’s business. Our relationship was private.”

The rising pitch of his voice conveys his shock. “Relationship? She’s three years younger than you, Jensen. You didn’t⁠—”

Now I’m pissed, my upper body lunging forward, fingers gripping the arms of my recliner. “Fuck no. You really think I would go there, Jake? Is that the kind of guy you think I am? We were only friends. Good friends. She was my—We were—I couldn’t—Dammit.” I shove a hand in my hair, frustrated because I’m being forced to defend myself and can’t find my goddamn words.

“Hey.” Jake scoots to the edge of the couch and grabs my shoulder. “I’m sorry for even thinking it. I know better than to question your integrity.”

If he only knew how shallow my integrity runs these days.

“I can’t explain it, Jake. I won’t.”

He gives me a reassuring shake. “Fair enough. I’m sorry for pushing. If Maisy’s who you want or, god help us all, who you need, go for it.”

Ignoring his god help us insult aimed at Maisy, and being honest about my plight, I say, “I may not have the chance. She doesn’t plan to stay in Walford.”

“Wish I could tell you how to stop her from leaving, but Maisy does whatever she wants to do.”

“She frustrates the hell out of me sometimes,” I say, sounding like a grown man who’s pouting.

“Look. I don’t understand”—he waves a hand—“whatever it is between you two, mostly because I just learned about it and I’m still processing. But if she means something to you like you say, be relentless. Don’t sulk for ten years like I did.”

Relentless should be my middle name when it comes to Maisy, a thought I keep to myself.

“Thirteen years,” I admit.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He lets out a lighthearted chuckle and mumbles, “Fucking overachiever.”

I suppress my defensive retort, having shown enough weakness for one day. Jake knows a little about my communication struggles and perfectionist tendencies, but he’s not aware of my maddening efforts to maintain self-control. How, at times, those efforts take control of my life.

Instead of snapping at him, I muster a playful tone. “Get out of my house. You have a wife and a honeymoon waiting.”

He slaps his thighs before standing. “Fine, but I expect a full progress report when I get back.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Keep dreaming.”

Once he leaves, I meet Javi’s level stare. Resolve sits heavy in his dark eyes as he nods, understanding how far gone I am. At some point, likely in the near future, he’ll be pulling my ass from the tarry pit of despair yet again.

He runs a hand over the top of his head and blows out a long, resigned breath. “You’re fucked.”

My head bobs in agreement. “Yep.”

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”