reduced her ex to pulp for her, for her, the least she could do was smile at him and say thank-you. Because no one had ever done that for her before, had ever even tried to rescue her.
Janina blinked. Her eyes watered and tears spilled. Russ stroked her cheek and she’d never known a man’s hand to feel so gentle, so calm, when less than two minutes ago he’d been Buddy’s terror from hell. Why had she never asked him for help when she’d been married and needed it? He’d have given it. But she hadn’t asked because she hadn’t wanted Russ Levoie, of all people, to know how stupid she’d been over a man who wasn’t him.
“Hey,” Russ whispered, spotting her tears. He pulled a clean hankie out of his back pocket and blotted her cheeks awkwardly. “It’s okay. You’re okay now. We’ve got you, Janie. You’ll be okay. It’s only friends here now.”
It’s only friends here now.
The problem exactly. Because of all the people in the world with whom Janina didn’t want to be “only friends,” Russ Levoie was at the top of the list and had been for the better part of a baker’s dozen years now.
Unable to contain her multihued emotions, Janina let the sobs loose. Without thought, Russ sat down on the floor, carefully gathered her into his arms and held her close while the EMTs checked her over and Janina cried into his chest.
Chapter 2
July 18
Janina stood in front of her closet and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror.
“Very attractive,” she muttered, taking in the fuzzy, yellow Woodstock-the-bird slippers on her feet, the overly warm plaid flannel magenta pajama bottoms, the Remember 9/11-2001 emblazoned in navy and white on red alongside the U.S. flag on her ragged-edged, oft-worn, long-sleeved gray T-shirt, the bright turquoise Ace-wrap peeking out from the pushed-up sleeve on her right wrist and forearm that protected the slight sprain to her wrist, and the green tape wrapping the stitched-up fingers on her left hand. “Absolutely blasted ducky brilliant.”
She studied her face, the small, relatively minor bruising below the eye on her right cheek and beside it the butterfly bandage where she hadn’t needed stitches to close a laceration. Then she examined the lumpiness on her upper lip where it had taken a plastic surgeon a surprising number of stitches to close the small but deep cut inside. “You look stinking beautiful. No wonder he had to leave. Sheesh.”
Or rather, sheesh and damn. Because the reason Russ had given for leaving after he’d brought Janina home from the hospital three hours ago was so he could see Maddie home.
Maddie, who’d refused to leave Janina’s—or Russ’s—side and tagged along to the hospital with Tobi while Russ rode the back of the ambulance with Janina.
Maddie, with whom Russ had been in love since he’d been, oh, six. And twelve. And sixteen. And forever.
Maddie, who lived in Phoenix, which was in the neighborhood of one hundred and eighty miles away.
Seeing her home. Yeah, right. His trailer home maybe. Where he didn’t take anybody.
Which she knew because Jonah had told her.
Janina fumed.
Then she eyed herself in the mirror again, stuck out her tongue at her reflection and decided to act. Because by the time Russ had brought Janina back to the apartment she shared with Tobi, Jonah had turned up to see Maddie off to wherever. Right?
Right. So Russ had gone home by himself after all.
Groggy or not at the time, Janina had made a clear note of that smidgen of information. Which meant that whatever Russ had said when he’d left, it was an excuse, pure and simple, a means to leave her alone to…
Get some sleep and recover from her ordeal, let’s say.
She tried to purse her lips—a painful move—and considered that thought. As thoughts went it had real merit, showed tremendous consideration by him for her welfare and boded well for her desire for a relationship with him.
And it had absolutely no Maddie in it.
Especially, no Maddie and Russ. As in together, paired up, in the same place, where there might be a bed.
Janina breathed out, an action of both decision and courage, and took the thought a step further. Actually, she took it several steps and a leap of faith further.
She might have a slightly sprained wrist and be on mild painkillers, but she was sober, she hadn’t been told not to drive and Tobi was asleep. Right?
Right.
So, darn it, she was going to see him. Russ, not Jonah.
Now.
Because clearly though he was the kind of guy who might want a girl—she hadn’t imagined the look he’d sent her tonight right before Buddy had tripped her—but he was also the kind of guy who was damn s-l-o-w about getting to what he wanted. So if the girl had mutual feelings for him, then she’d better do something about it herself.
Like go and attack him, or at least throw herself at him and tell him exactly what she wanted of him. And how often. And for how long. And maybe, while she was at it, say something about forever. With him.
Or something like that.
Oh, geez. Janina covered her face with her left hand—gingerly. Maybe she shouldn’t drive, she thought. She wasn’t making sense anymore, even to herself.
She checked on Tobi to be sure her roommate was sleeping then got dressed anyway, makeup and all, then found her keys and purse, and headed out to find Russ.
Two cars were parked outside of Russ’s trailer, one of which was Maddie’s—Janina swallowed jealousy—but neither of which was his.
Surprised, she pulled over to the side of the road and studied the darkened trailer. She was pretty sure she knew everyone Russ knew, knew their vehicles, or so she thought. If Maddie was inside, where was Russ?
Hope sang through her in a low thrum. Maddie was inside and Russ’s car wasn’t there. Somebody else’s was.
Janina’s mouth trembled. She almost smiled. Almost.
She wanted to. But she was afraid.
A Winslow police cruiser coasted up beside her car, startling her. Janina grabbed her heart, winced when her hands objected, then, recognizing Jonah, rolled down her window.
“You supposed to be out ’n about?” Russ’s not-so-babyish baby brother asked.
Janina looked at him. Lightning-quick onyx eyes set in a deceptively youthful native nutmeg face stared back. As usual, Jonah’s straight ebony hair stood on end because of his constant need to do something with his hands, attesting to the lack of stillness that was both his strength and nemesis. Though he was shorter and slighter than his brothers, his slim, wiry body made him quicker than any of them, had stood him in good stead as a wrestler in both high school and through the academy. Didn’t matter the size of the prisoner he put a hold on, if Jonah Levoie didn’t want to let someone go, they stayed held on to.
“Fine,”
