The Thing About Love by Julie James
When Jessica heard that, something inside her melted.
She was running late—way late—on his last night at home. She’d just missed his going-away party. But the thing he was most focused on was whether she was okay.
Because John Shepherd was that kind of guy. A really good guy.
Jessica looked out the airplane window, trying to focus as her throat suddenly felt tight.
Get a grip, she told herself. Probably she was just overemotional and exhausted from the events of the past couple of days.
“I’m okay.” She maintained a relaxed, confident tone. “My target was mostly into exposing himself to someone he thought was in a vulnerable position. Needless to say, certain parts of him shriveled up right quick when six guys with body armor and shotguns came storming through the door.”
The flight attendant signaled her to put her phone in airplane mode.
“I have to go,” she told John. “We’re about to take off.”
“We’ll talk more when you get home. I want to hear the rest of the story,” he said.
“It might even top the one about being a hotel housekeeper.” After saying good-bye, she hung up and looked at her phone for a moment.
We’ll talk more when you get home.
Under different circumstances—circumstances in which John wasn’t leaving town for good tomorrow—it probably would’ve been nice to have someone like him to come home to after an exhausting investigation.
Really nice, in fact.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to smile at the fifty-something male passenger across the aisle from her.
“Heading to Chicago for business or pleasure?” she asked him.
“Work conference,” he said. “You?”
“Heading home. I’m with the FBI in Chicago,” she offered.
“FBI? Wow.” The man eagerly angled his body in her direction. “What’s that like?”
Desperate times called for desperate measures. He wouldn’t stop asking her questions the entire flight, and that was precisely what she needed.
Something—anything—to keep her thoughts about John at bay.
29
Two hours later, however, Jessica was about to seriously lose her shit. Along with every other passenger on the plane.
Another storm had rolled in almost as soon as they’d pulled away from the gate. Not wanting to lose their position in line, the pilot had kept the plane on the tarmac, with the hope of departing as soon as the skies cleared. But when lightning moved into the area, air traffic control grounded all flights and sent the planes back to the terminal.
“Due to the weather, unfortunately, air traffic control has canceled all outbound flights for the rest of the evening.” The airline employee standing behind the desk at the gate looked harried as she repeated her speech, the same one she’d given to the five passengers who’d been in line ahead of Jessica. “I apologize for the inconvenience and I’m happy to reschedule you for the first flight tomorrow morn—”
“No, I need to be on a flight tonight,” Jessica emphasized. “Any airline. I don’t care. I’ll pay whatever. But it’s imperative that I get to Chicago.”
The five passengers in front of her had been unsuccessful in their efforts to get on another flight leaving tonight. But she had a trump card.
She pulled out her FBI credentials. She’d never used her job to get her anything—not even to get out of so much as a parking ticket. But tonight, if it would help, damn straight she would use it to get on a plane. “I’m a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I need to be in Chicago tonight.”
The airline employee shook her head, barely glancing at the credentials. “I’m really sorry. But there’s nothing I can do. The storm is anticipated to last at least another four hours, and all flights out of this airport have been canceled for the rest of the evening.”
“Fine. Put me on flight out of Charlotte, then. Or Charleston. Myrtle Beach. Hell, I’ll fly out of Atlanta if I have to.” Jessica sounded a touch desperate even to her own ears.
“Charlotte is experiencing the same weather as us—they’ve grounded all flights, too. And both Charleston and Myrtle Beach are over a hundred miles from here. Given the late hour, even if you got in a cab now, you wouldn’t make any of the flights leaving those airports tonight.” The airline employee’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid you won’t be getting to Chicago tonight.”
For a moment, Jessica just stood there.
“But . . . I have to make it back,” she said. “A friend of mine is leaving tomorrow morning, and I need to see him. I don’t know when I’ll see him again after this. If I ever see him again.”
She swallowed as the reality of that settled in.
Straightening her shoulders, she pointed to the computer. “Pull whatever strings you have to. I don’t care if you stick me on a damn FedEx plane. Just find a way to get me home.”
The speech didn’t work.
Nor did it work fifteen minutes later, when Jessica repeated it to the employee behind the airline’s customer service desk.
She was officially stranded.
Running her hands through her hair, she took a moment to calm herself before she called John.
“Your flight got canceled,” he said quietly, as soon as he answered. “I’ve been checking the updates.”
“Everything’s canceled. I can’t get out of here tonight.” She shook her head. “John . . . I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say—I can’t believe this is happening. Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” She bit her lip, trying to force out a joke. “If we ever wondered how I ended up divorced, I think that mystery has been solved.”
“Don’t do that,” John said. “This is the job, Jessica. I get that.”
She knew that, too. But right then, it didn’t make her feel any better. “Where will you sleep tonight?”
“I’ll crash at my brother’s place.”
She nodded, not that he could see that. “They can put me on a seven A.M. flight that arrives in Chicago at eight thirteen. I know you wanted to get an early start tomorrow, but if you can hold off until I get back, I’d really like to say good-bye in person.”
“Well, I’d hate to leave without my good-bye gift.” His voice turned more serious. “I can wait.”
A few moments later, Jessica hung up the phone and stared at the window that looked out onto the tarmac. She’d checked the forecast, and it was supposed to rain for several hours. Yes, the weather was supposed to clear up by the morning, but as an experienced traveler, she knew there were never any guarantees when it came to the airlines. And if there were any delays in the morning, she’d lose her chance to say good-bye to John.
She couldn’t risk that happening.
Carry-on suitcase in tow, she walked determinedly to the escalator and took it down to the lower level. Since time was of the essence, she headed to the first open rental counter she saw and pulled out her driver’s license and credit card.
“I need a car,” she told the Hertz employee standing behind the counter. “And also the location of the nearest Starbucks.”
With over eight hundred miles to cross, it was going to be a long night.
• • •
Meanwhile, seated alone among a lively Friday night crowd at Sheridan’s Pub, John set his phone down on the bar after finishing his conversation with Jessica.
A sharp pang of disappointment hit him right in the gut, but he immediately buried the feeling down deep.
Maybe, in the long run, this was for the best. All day he’d been counting down the hours until he and Jessica could be alone again, and that kind of attachment was dangerous. Probably, he’d gotten too close to her, and if they’d spent the night together, it would’ve been that much harder to walk away in the morning.
&nb
Nate grinned as he came around the bar. “That’s a pretty gloomy look for someone who’s about to spend the night with his dream girl.”
As always, his brother had impeccable timing.
“I’m not spending the night at Jessica’s. She’s stuck in South Carolina until the morning,” John said.
Nate’s face fell. “Shit, John, I didn’t realize. What happened?”
John shrugged. “Bad weather. They canceled all flights for the rest of the evening. Can I crash at your place instead?”
“Of course.” His brother looked at him.
“Shit happens, Nate. We don’t need to have a whole discussion about it.” John took a swallow of his beer.
Nate seemed like he was about to say something. But then he sighed and simply nodded instead. “If you say so.”
30
Fueled by caffeine, upbeat music from her phone, and sheer will, Jessica made it to Chicago in exactly twelve hours and twelve minutes. Knowing she was racing against the clock, she left her rental car parked with the hazards on in front of her building, breezed past Luther the doorman with a promise that she would only be a few minutes, and then took the elevator up to her floor.
Once inside her place, she brushed her teeth, did a quick refresher of her makeup so she didn’t look completely like she’d been driving for twelve hours, and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
On her way back out the door, she grabbed the gift bag off the counter.
She texted John to let him know she’d be at his place in ten minutes. In actuality, it took her eighteen minutes, the latter eight of which she spent driving around his neighborhood trying to find a place to park. Finally, she got lucky when someone pulled out of a spot across the street from his building.
Standing on his doorstep, she took a moment to pull herself together.
Of course it was bittersweet to say good-bye to someone who’d become a friend—with benefits—over this past month and a half. But that was where her emotions had to stay. For her own sake, she needed to just . . . be levelheaded here.
She pushed the button on the intercom that rang his condo, and a few seconds later the door buzzed as it unlocked. After taking the stairs up to the second floor, she followed the hallway to his unit.
His front door stood wide open.
Heading inside, she found John in the furniture-less living room, taping up a box. From the looks of things, he was all ready to go.
The thought put a dull ache in her stomach, so she covered with a smile. “I could’ve been a burglar.”
“Burglars don’t ring the buzzer.” Wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, he set the roll of duct tape on top of the box. “You made it.”
“The joys of airline travel,” she quipped dryly.
A brief pause fell between them, and she felt oddly like he was studying her. Playing it casual, she looked around the condo. “So this is your place.” Whenever they’d gotten together these past few weeks—aside from their hookups in Jacksonville—he’d always come to her condo.
“It was always temporary. I knew there was a chance I’d make HRT and have to move again, so I wasn’t too picky.”
“And now, here you are.”
His mouth curved in acknowledgment. “Here I am.”
Another pause between them.
Well. She held out the gift bag. “On that note . . .”
He took the bag from her. Jokingly, he feigned nearly dropping it. “What’d you get me, a bowling ball?”
“Hand weights, for the car ride.” She demonstrated, lifting her right arm in a curl. “Can’t have you showing up at Quantico not as pumped up and uber-manly as the other HRT guys.”
He threw her a look—cute—and then reached into the bag. He pulled out the bottle of Elijah Craig 21-Year-Old Single Barrel bourbon she’d bought, and then looked up at her, seemingly taken aback. “Jessica. This is a really nice bottle.”
She blushed, dismissing that with a wave. “I figured you could crack it open when you graduate from NOTS. Maybe share it with your classmates. I’m sure you’ll all be ready for a good drink by then.”
John glanced back down at the bottle, then nodded. “Thank you. This is great.” He put the bottle back in the gift bag and set it on the ground next to his small stack of boxes.
She tried to sound bright. “So it looks like you’re all set to hit the road.”
“Pretty much. I just need to load these last few boxes into my car.”
“You said you’re staying in a hotel outside Quantico?” she asked.
“Only for the short term, while I house-hunt. Since I’ll be there for a while, I didn’t want to rush into buying something.”
She nodded. Made sense. After all, as of today, Virginia was officially his home.
John’s eyes met hers.
Looking at him—really looking at him—something inside her softened. “I’m so sorry about last night. I had this whole plan to take you out to dinner for your last night in the city.”
He stepped closer. “It’s okay. These things happen. I told you—I understand.” He flashed her a wry smile. “On the upside, you did my brother a favor. He got in twelve extra hours of jokes about me wearing purple tights and a leotard at ‘superhero camp.’”
She laughed as that image flashed into her head. “I better be the first person you text with a pic if that happens.”
He chuckled, too, and then his expression turned more serious. “Come here.” His voice husky, he pulled her in close.
When his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, her eyes welled up. Relying on all her undercover skills to fight back the tears, she gave herself one more moment to soak in the feel of him.
And then she pulled away.
“Well,” she exhaled. “I know you want to get on the road, so I should probably get going.”
He nodded. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Her car. Of course—he didn’t realize that she’d driven all night in a rental. Undoubtedly, he assumed she’d come in on the seven A.M. flight, like she’d told him she was going to do last night.
It didn’t matter now. The point was that she’d made it in time to say good-bye. But for whatever reason, standing here with him now, in their last few moments together, she felt self-conscious about the lengths to which she’d gone to see him.
So she lied.
“I took a cab. I didn’t want to worry about parking.” She made her way to the door, then turned around. “So listen: You be careful out there, big guy.” Adopting a playful tone, she grabbed his shirt and tugged. “I know it’s HRT, but that doesn’t mean you have to go storming into every place like you’ve got bin Laden holed up in a Pakistani compound.”
He shook his head at the joke, a reference to the day their instructor had made him shadow her at Hogan’s Alley. “Six years later, and you still remember that.”
“Of course I remember. That was my favorite day at the Academy.” To cover up the wobble in her smile, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
“Good-bye, John,” she said softly.
Then she opened his door and walked away, through the hallway and down the stairs. Once outside, on the sidewalk, she kept going, ignoring her rental car in case John was watching out his window. If he saw her, he’d wonder why she’d lied about taking a cab, so she’d come back for the car later.
Right now, she needed to keep moving. Her heart was racing and she felt like if she stopped or slowed down, if she did anything other than keep moving forward, she might do something incredibly foolish.
So she just kept walking.
• • •
John shut the front door after Jessica left.
For several moments, he stood there with his hand on the doorknob.
The
He needed to get out of there. Now.
After packing the boxes into the trunk of his car, he locked up the condo for the final time. He left the keys in the mailbox for his brother, who would come by later to let in the cleaning crew.
Then he climbed into his car and started the engine. On the front passenger seat was the gift bag Jessica had given him—he hadn’t wanted to put it in the trunk, thinking the heat might ruin the bourbon.
He grabbed the bag and put it on the floor of the backseat, out of sight.
Jaw set, he shifted the car into drive and focused on the road ahead.
31
two weeks later
Jessica walked into Ombra, a restaurant in Chicago’s Andersonville neighborhood, and spotted Tara sitting in one of the booths by the front door. Her mouth dropped open as she headed over.
“Oh my God, your hair. I love it,” she said, greeting her friend with a hug.
Tara struck a pose. Previously long and wavy, her ebony hair now fell to her shoulders in a straight, layered style. “I got it cut yesterday. I felt like I’d had the same hairstyle forever.” She checked out Jessica’s suit and shoulder bag as they sat down in the booth. “Don’t tell me you just got off work. It’s eight o’clock on a Friday.”
Jessica took a seat across the booth from Tara. “I know. I got this new case and it’s a total time suck.”
“That’s what you said last Friday, when I asked if you wanted to go out,” Tara said.
“I did say that. This is another new case.”
“Wow.” Tara cocked her head. “Sounds like you’re working a lot lately.”
“You know what they say: ‘Justice never sleeps.’” With a wink, Jessica changed the topic. “What about you? How’s work going these days?”
Like Jessica, Tara had left the practice of law shortly after getting her degree, and now worked as a legal recruiter at a boutique firm downtown. The two of them talked shop for a while, and then Jessica asked Tara how things were going with the new cute guy she’d been messaging on Tinder.