Page 35 of The Fixer

His head rose, his face nearly fracturing at the smile he so clearly forced. “All out.” It came out rough, raw, the sound tugging at something deep in my chest.

Nathan never looked at me like that.

From across the bar, Jet reached for his empty plate. He washed and dried it before looking at me. “All done?”

A Tilt-a-Whirl of emotions stole my appetite. I pushed my plate of half-eaten eggs his way and flinched at his frown.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, eyes on the water washing over the plate. He peeked up at me, then his gaze flickered back to his hands. “We can go back to work, if you want. Comb through more files.”

“We could.”

Jet wiped his hands on a towel. “We could go to your apartment. I’ll help you clean up.” My brow pinched as he busied himself, putting dishes away. “Or we could do something else.”

I wasn’t sure how to read him. He was hot, then cold. Present, then distant. I found anger that frightened me, followed by a voice that soothed as much as a counselor’s would. It scared me as much as it intrigued me, though the same could be said for the rest of him. Dazzling silver eyes that turned dark and dangerous in an instant. Gentle hands that had a biting grip. And his body…

Goodness. Heat rose to my cheeks.

He hadn’t shied away or shielded himself when I caught him dressing yesterday. He wore suits and dress shirts that hugged him so well it left little to the imagination. And it left my imagination running rampant, trying to remember every detail, every ripple and bulge of his bare chest and muscular shoulders.

“Eliza.” It was the coaxing voice this time, not the bitter snap I would have expected after drifting away. Jet stood across the island still, his hands gripping the white granite, the V of his t-shirt dipping low enough to show the hairs sprinkled across his chest. “What do you want?”

I blinked and jerked my head back. He stared at me patiently, though those eyes turned darker with every second that passed. I gave a shrug. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A frown stretched his lips. He rocked at the counter, as if indecision swallowed him, too. Forward, backward. A slight shift to the right, then the left. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath before he left the counter and came stalking over to me.

He gripped my hands in his. I wanted to hide from his gaze. In a soothing voice, he prodded me, “What do you want, Eliza? It’s your choice.”

It’s your choice.

Those were words I’d never heard from Nathan’s mouth.

I shook my head, trying to focus. What did I want to do? I’d already spent two days locked away in my father’s office, and my brain was still fried from the task. I wouldn’t have minded a nap, but I didn’t want Jet to get mad. My apartment… no, I didn’t want to go back there. Not yet anyway.

My father’s condo?

It wasn’t what I really wanted. A day not thinking about my father’s death sounded like a dream. A day where, maybe, Jet and I could talk. Get to know each other, if for no other reason than to be friends. I could use a friend. Someone who would be there for me when I needed help, whom I could help, too.

But he wasn’t a friend. Was he?

“I’d like…” I swallowed and forced a smile. “I’d like to go to my dad’s condo, I think.”

Jet wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Instead, he watched a spot on my cheek. I got the feeling he wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else, at that moment. He let go of my hands and stepped back. “Shall we go?”

9

Jet

Kosta, I need your help.

A weight had settled heavy on my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I felt out of my league. Emotional scars ran deep and were the hardest to overcome, and I didn’t feel capable of overcoming hers.

Not when my world kept caving in.

I needed my friend, Kosta Novak. At things like this, he was the pro. A man who could single-handedly talk a person down from the brink, even if they already had both feet hanging over the edge.

But Kosta was gone. Dead these past five months. And his loss hit me harder today than it had when I first found out.

How could I fix her when I couldn’t fix myself?