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“Yes,” Joel said.
“No,” Trista corrected. “You can’t go to work. It won’t be safe for you or any of your coworkers if you go to work. You need to stay put until I get further intel about where Dante is. Once he got out, he went underground.”
“I can’t just sit here and wait for him to show his face again, Trista,” Joel insisted. “I’m going to work.” Trista crossed her arms over her chest, and he couldn’t help his smile. “Does that pose usually work for you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she sassed.
“Well, it doesn’t on me,” Joel said.
“I hate to say this, but I agree with Trista,” Melody said. “If you put everyone in danger just by coming in, what good will that do?”
“No good at all,” Joel grumbled. He felt as though he was being ganged up on, and he hated feeling that way. “Fine, I’ll stay put until Trista finds out where Dante is. Does that work for you both?” he asked, looking between Trista and Melody. They both nodded and Axel laughed. “Shut up, asshole,” Joel said.
“Hey man,” Savage said, sticking his head in the back door, “we’re going to head out. You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Joel said. “Thanks for everything, man.”
“Not a problem,” Savage said. “If anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
“Will do,” Joel agreed.
“We’re going to head out too,” Axel said, “Melody has to be up in a few hours for work. She won’t play hooky, even with the boss being out.”
“Good to know,” Joel said. “Thank you both for coming out tonight—or this morning. I appreciate it.”
“We both do, thank you,” Trista agreed.
Melody looked Trista over and he could tell that she was going to say something but thought better of it. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow, Joel,” she said. “I want to be kept in the loop.”
“Of course,” Joel agreed. He pulled Melody in for a quick hug and shook Axel’s hand. “Thanks for everything guys,” he said. He showed them out and turned back to find Trista standing in the corner of the kitchen crying. She was trying to pretend that she wasn’t, but he could tell. Joel never knew what to do when any woman cried around him—and Trista was no exception.
“Hey,” Joel said.
“I’m all right,” she lied. “I’m overly tired and I feel awful about what I had to do to Melody. Lying might be a part of my job, but I hate it.” He hated that part of his job too, so he knew exactly how she felt.
“I get it,” he said. “How about we get some shut-eye, and things will look better once the sun comes up promise,” he said. “Um, about the spare bed,” he said. “I forgot to tell you this, but that mattress is awful. If you can’t sleep on it, just let me know, and I’ll take the sofa.”
“And here I was starting to think that you were inviting me into your bed for the night. But then, you went and offered to sleep on the couch, like a gentleman. That’s going to take some getting used to. I hang out with guys who are douchebags for the most part.”
“Well, thanks for not thinking that I’m a douchebag he said.” Joel realized that he had put his hands on her waist when he found her crying, tiring to get her to stop, and they were still there. “Um, sorry,” he said.
“For what?” Trista asked.
“For touching you. I didn’t mean to,” he said.
“Well, that’s a shame,” she said, “because I kind of liked it, Joel.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek on her way past him out of the kitchen. “Good night,” she called back over her shoulder, and all Joel could do was stand in his kitchen, like a fool, watching her go.
Trista
Trista wokethe next morning to the sunshine streaming in through the windows. She had forgotten to close the curtains before crawling into bed; she was so tired. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers up over her head, trying to fall back to sleep. After about ten minutes of pretending to be asleep, she groaned and rolled back over, pulling her phone from the nightstand where she had left it to charge before going to bed.
“Nine in the morning,” she moaned. That meant that she had only gotten about four hours of sleep for the night. “I’ve survived on less,” she said to herself.
Joel peeked his head into her room and smiled. “Sorry, you left your door open,” he said.
“And I left my curtains open too,” she whined. “I guess that I just kind of passed out last night. How did you sleep?” she asked.
“Like a log. Do you usually talk to yourself in the morning?” he asked.
