Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.

A/N: Thanks again to misty23y for her efforts as my beta! To my reviewers – THANK YOU! I'm blown away by 80 reviews, and I'm in even greater awe to have had 1,459 visitors from 20 countries. Amazing! Once we reach 100 reviews, I will load a bonus chapter! To those who left comments that I cannot reply directly to, I appreciate your encouragement and reflection.

Chapter 7

Date/Time Stamp: Friday, 14SEP18 1600-2230

Ranger POV

Having landed in Fayetteville, I'm pleased to see a black Ford Mustang waiting for me. It's 1600 as planned. I recheck the trackers and see Stephanie is 30 minutes ahead of me on I-95 and traveling between 85-90 mph. I'm not catching her any time soon, but I won't be far behind when she stops either.

With the road looming long for an unknown distance ahead of me, I slip into my zone, as Steph calls it. Why am I doing this? The thought catches me by surprise. I mean, it's Stephanie. My Babe. Why wouldn't I? She's the light to my darkness. She's my best friend.

Deep down, I know it's more than that. As much as I don't want to admit it, I know that I'm in love with her. I've never loved anyone who wasn't already family, and I'm afraid. I didn't love Rachel; she was a fling, a one-night stand. I married her to give Julie legitimacy, so Rachel could have health benefits and access to my death benefits for Julie should something happen to me. Stephanie came out of right field.

She calls me her Batman. It's cute that she thinks of me as her personal superhero, but at some point, she will realize I'm human. I'm a dark, flawed human who has seen and inflicted some of the greatest depravities humankind is capable of. I don't deserve her, and I will only end up as another person who hurts her.

I think again of the last few weeks. Lester, Bobby, and Tank are right. Her light hasn't shone as brightly, and we've all been less as a result. Steph is the only person who has managed to both understand and accept the men of Rangeman without prejudice. She has time and time again put herself aside at the smallest opportunity to help one of us. How have we returned that kindness? More importantly, how have I?

Sure, I've always managed to be there to save her life. Yes, we've had four incredible nights. I shake my head at the memories. I told her I would ruin her for other men, but she was the one who ruined me for other women. Her kisses then to now have lifted my soul more than I care to admit. But how else have I been there for her? After that night, I sent her back to Morelli when she was ready to be mine. I've made her feel as though she was entertainment when I failed to clarify that unfortunate accounting discovery. I told her I am an opportunist, that my love came with a condom and not a ring. Recently, I've noticed she was struggling, but I kept my distance.

Fuck. I really am an asshole. Mile marker after mile marker passed.

What if she is ready to be done with all this bullshit once and for all? What if she wants to be done with me? I know she isn't with Morelli right now, but what if I'm next on the cutting block? Can I blame her? I've told her many times not now. Wait for someday I keep telling her.

I pass a sign indicating the turnoff to Charleston. She's the only person I'd want to take for a long weekend there, old Southern antebellum and charm. I know I've been wasting time we could have been together having these adventures. Perhaps, on our way back to Trenton we can stop over in Charleston, begin our someday together with a week-long getaway.

I watch the shadows become longer as the pink hues of evening slowly become the deeper purples and blues of dusk.

Shaking my head, I confront one of the most touted reasons I've offered for keeping Steph away. I have enemies. It's a fact. It's not like it's mattered, though. Her enemies and mine have been a constant feature regardless of how much I've held her at arm's length. With each Scrog, Abruzzi, Orin, Stiva, or Ramirez, my primary defense has been weakened. Whether or not we are in a declared relationship doesn't seem to matter that much to those who want to do us harm.

My contract is up this year. Regardless of how things turn out with Stephanie, it's time. I can feel it in my bones, literally. Fieldwork is the job of a younger man. I need to move forward with my life. So, what? Why won't I give a relationship with Stephanie a chance?

I contemplate this as night's darkness claims the last of the evening's shadows. Deep down, I know the answer. It's fear. The word itself can barely whisper through me. I am someone who absolutely refuses to ever acknowledge fear in any situation. It's how I am strong, how I survive. Openly loving my Babe creates a vulnerability. My heart is freely in her hands, and what she does with it is out of my control. I've told her once before; she has all the power. I don't think she truly understands what that means.

It's time for me to end the excuses. Deep down, I know I have had a role to play in this exodus Steph has undertaken. It's time to take responsibility for my actions or lack thereof.

I sigh audibly now. I decide to stop at the next station on the northern outskirts of Savannah. Pulling over I check my phone and see Steph has managed to increase the distance between us. It only serves to amplify the feeling I have she is running with abandon. I hope I can catch her before she crashes.

Stephanie POV

The sun has long set when I see a sign saying, "WELCOME TO FLORIDA!" The lights of Jacksonville loom ahead. It's after 10 at night, but I still can't stop. Maybe it's the caffeine, or maybe it's the desperation. I know I'll have to stop eventually. Hell, I'll run out of road to drive if I keep going this way. I turn towards St. Augustine. I want to drive towards the ocean. When I stop, it will be someplace where I can hear the waves.

The blackness of the night makes me think of Ranger. I still occasionally find it unbelievable my best friend is a battle-hardened hero who most people would instinctually dismiss out of fear at first sight, that is after they got over how incredibly gorgeous he is. It was never that way for me with any the Merry Men. I just never saw anything to be afraid of. Sure, I see the scars and toughness, but I also see loyalty, determination, integrity, and courage. They are undoubtedly the most exceptional people I know, Ranger first and foremost.

I know I'm in love with him. I've known that since that first day in the diner. I also know I'm not worthy of him. I'm not beautiful enough, fit enough, smart enough, financially savvy enough; anything enough. I used to think I was at least average. I want to be Wonder Woman, but I think she got lost somewhere.

In the back of my head, I know some of these problems could be surmounted with a bit of work on my part. The problem is with the how. Most of it would require Ranger's help, and I simply can't ask him. He's already spent so much time and money on me. Yet, it's more than that. I try to cover up my ineptitude with my own creative style, ultimate success garnered mostly through tenacity and luck, and Jersey attitude. I'm pretty sure if he realized just how much I suck, he would tell me the same thing as Joe – just quit. It would break my heart if he did. At least right now I have an occasional "Proud of you, Babe" to lift me up. He's the only one who has ever told me they are proud of me. I can't lose that.

I turn onto A1A south of St. Augustine, and I'm greeted with a slower drive along the Atlantic coast. I roll down my windows and let the salty breeze fill the car.

I know I've settled on being something between a friend and a lover with Ranger. There is unquestionably a spark between us. His kisses in the alley, hands brushing my breasts when he places a wire before a distraction job, and the few times where we shared a bed bring a warmth to my body I didn't know was possible. He inexorably consumes me. Joe has been comfortable, easy and fun. Ranger made good on his promise. I am ruined for all other men. There really is no comparison.

I know he sits in the chair in the corner of my bedroom to watch me sleep at night. He has his reasons and is always respectful of me, so I let him think I'm sleeping. It's oddly intimate and comforting, and I'm left with the impression he uses that chair to chase some of his ghosts away.

Since he's been back, however, I've avoided those moments. I've slept all but two nights at Joe's, and I know he visited those two nights. While I've been coming to the realization things need to end between Joe and me permanently, I don't want Ranger to be caught in the middle. I may be in a twisted love triangle, but the last thing I want is to give Joe an opening to use my friendship with Ranger against him in some way.

I think I'm also ashamed. I frown further at the thought.

As much as Ranger uses that chair to chase his ghosts, I think he may also have the superpower to see some of mine. I haven't been ready to face all the memories forcing themselves upon me recently, and I certainly can't verbalize them all to another person. If he saw how little I really sleep, it would push the conversation that I am driving all this distance to avoid. For once I'm hoping I have the strength to exit denial land, break down, and put myself back together.

When I finish this journey, I want to return a different person, a stronger person. Someone who is willing and capable to stand up for herself, to permit herself to pursue her dreams her way. I want to have made some decisions that will make my life better. I can't continue the way things are.