Page 51 of Jenna's Protector

I find Jenna and Max in the hallway, her hand buried in his fur as she leans against the wall. She looks up as I approach, exhaustion etched into every line of her face.

“Hey, you ready to get out of here?” I ask softly.

Jenna nods, pushing off the wall. “More than ready. Do you mind if we swing by a drive-thru on the way? I’m starving all of a sudden.”

“There’s still some pizza left, if you want it.”

“Not really in the mood for pizza.”

“Of course. Anything you want.”

Max woofs softly, his tail wagging at the prospect of a car ride and a potential treat.

We pile into my truck, the silence comfortable as we navigate the quiet streets. The fluorescent glow of a 24-hour burger joint beckons, and I pull into the drive-thru without a second thought.

“Two burgers and a plain hotdog, please,” I order for us both, not realizing I never asked Jenna what she wanted. She sits in silence, absorbed in her thoughts.

I watch Jenna out of the corner of my eye, mesmerized by the delicate way she holds her burger and savors each bite. Meanwhile, Max wolfs down the pieces of hotdog I feed him.

“What?” She catches me staring and quirks an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just… It’s nice to see you relaxed. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

“It feels good. Normal, even. Like maybe the world isn’t ending after all.” Jenna smiles, a real smile that reaches her eyes.

“We’re going to get through this. I promise.” I reach across the console and take her hand, gently squeezing it as if I can pour my emotions into the touch.

“I trust you. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.” She squeezes back, her fingers warm against mine.

We finish our burgers in comfortable silence, the tension slowly easing from our shoulders. I dump our trash in a nearby trashcan, and we’re back on the road.

The drive to Jenna’s place is a blur of streetlights and shadows. The silence between us is thick, the weight of the day hanging heavy in the air. Jenna’s exhaustion radiates off her in waves, the toll this is taking on her evident in every line of her body.

Miles pile up behind us as I drive her home, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the engine and Max’s occasional yawn from the backseat. Today’s events replay in my mind. Jenna’s strength and vulnerability intertwine in a way that makes my heart ache.

As I pull up to her apartment building, Jenna turns to me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. The war behind her eyes is clear: the fear of being alone clashes with the fear of asking for help.

“I hate to ask, but I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Her voice is small and delicate, almost lost in the space between us. “Do you think… Would it be too much if I asked you to stay with me?”

It’s a big step, crossing that line from professional to personal, but the thought of leaving her alone after everything she’s been through is unthinkable.

“Of course. Whatever you need, I’m here.” I reach across the console, taking her hand in mine. Her fingers tremble slightly, and I give them a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you.” Relief washes over her features, and she blinks back tears. “I just… I don’t think I can face the night alone. Not after today.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.” And I do.

EIGHTEEN

Carter

The thoughtof Jenna waking up in a cold sweat, haunted by the nightmares of her past, with no one there to comfort her… It’s enough to make my blood boil. My heart breaks in equal measure.

We climb out of the vehicle. Max trots ahead, making a quick stop at a tree, as we make our way up to her apartment. The air between us is charged with something new, fragile, and precious.

As we step into her apartment, Jenna flicks on the light. It is small but cozy, with worn furniture and soft lighting, creating an inviting atmosphere. The walls are adorned with framed photos and artwork, adding a personal touch that speaks of warmth and creativity. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with an eclectic mix of novels and knickknacks. A faint scent of vanilla lingers in the air, making the space feel even more comforting.

Jenna moves through the space like a ghost, her footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floors.