Happy thanksgiving everyone! Or boxing day... or day. Whatever.
Thanks for sticking with me even though my updates have been inconsistent, and thank you for sending me messages to encourage me to get on with it. I apologize that this has taken so long. I've been pretty caught up in school, plus this chapter was just really difficult for me to write.
That said this chapter has a STRONG T rating. I don't think it's M, but you've been warned. When you get to the first section where the narrator follows Teresa you might want to skip ahead if you're skittish. Do read from the last full paragraph of the section on though. If you don't you'll be confused for the rest of the chapter.
21 Distraction
Jane woke with a start. A small murmur had drifted to his ears and he blinked through the dark waiting for his eyes to clear. He sat up and looked around feeling confused. A shelf with knickknacks was the first thing to catch his attention, they led his eyes to a stairwell leading up, then a bare wall leading to more shelves. He blinked again before realizing that he was in Lisbon's apartment, slouched down on her couch.
He leaned back into the cushions as he remembered why he was here. He and Lisbon had eaten dinner together last night, after they'd painted and then they'd talked. They'd stayed away from the more uncomfortable topics that they'd fallen into of late, but after last night he had seen how necessary those conversations had been. It was one of the few times since he'd returned that he'd seen the Lisbon he remembered from before. He closed his eyes and smiled while leaning his head back. He'd missed her.
Another soft moan found his ears and he remembered why he'd woken up in the first place. His eyes opened and he looked on the couch to the left of him. Lisbon was curled into a ball with her head resting on the armrest. She was sleeping peacefully. Her hand reached down to her bare ankle and she scratched it. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times and then she stopped moving again.
He leaned back against the armrest to better scrutinize her. She'd put on one of her sleep jerseys, that he admittedly thought she was quite desirable in, before they'd started a movie and had wrapped herself up in a blanket. The blanket was now shoved over the back of the couch and he had a great view of her shapely legs. He closed his eyes and turned his head from her. He was obviously tired and she was Lisbon, he shouldn't be thinking about her like this.
He hadn't planned on staying so late, but neither of them was keen on him leaving. It had been obvious even if you weren't a Mentalist. She was exhausted and needed the sleep, but she was still afraid to sleep. He suggested a movie he knew would put her to sleep, but what he hadn't counted on was that he'd fall asleep too.
A soft hum rose from her throat and drifted to his ears. The hairs on his arms rose. A warm sensation filled him to the brim. He tried to pinpoint the feeling—define it. It felt like pride, but that didn't make any sense. Sure he'd been proud of her before. She was an amazing cop and he was protective of her, had been from the day he'd joined the team.
He knew he brought her a lot of grief, but he had always been fiercely loyal and protective. She'd given him a chance when he'd been at his lowest moment. He'd given her no reason, as far as he was concerned, to think he might be useful. He owed her his loyalty and more. It was why he'd absolutely refused to work with anyone else. He conceded that his reasons seemed to be evolving over time, but they were deeply rooted in her misplaced faith in him. He didn't want to disappoint her, he did frequently, but he didn't want to.
Still, right now she was just sleeping. He risked glancing over at her again. She wasn't catching a bad guy, or putting someone in their place, or even scolding him, all things that made him proud. Sure, she looked completely adorable curled up with her mouth slightly open and her cheek mushed into the couch, but that wasn't reason to feel pride, was it?
A thought popped into his mind, a strong memory of Angela and Charlotte sitting at a piano, Charlotte was playing as Angela watched and he'd felt pride at the sight of them—his girls. His stomach flipped as he looked at Lisbon again. Her dark hair pushed behind her ear, her left arm wrapped around her body and her right hand resting on her hip. She shivered lightly, causing a chill to run up his spine. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and put it over her before settling back again, trying to push the unsettling thoughts that were bombarding him out of his mind. It was ridiculous. She was no more his then she was Cho's or Rigsby's for that matter.
He closed his eyes, shutting her out and unwittingly started thinking about the nightmares she'd told him about. It had been fascinating to him where her mind had gone. She was afraid he'd be hurt trying to protect her. The time when the bomb had been strapped on her was the nightmare that most caught his attention. He started replaying the events of that night over in his mind.
He'd been sitting on his couch in the bullpen when she told him that she was going to Windsor High School. He hadn't had any interest in going to any of the other places, but when he'd hung up the phone the panic that he'd started feeling when she told him where the school was was becoming impossible to ignore, despite her assurance that she had a few nine millimeter "harpoons," with her.
He'd had to fight himself to stand up calmly and make his way to his car, but he had still made it to the school in record time. He wasn't sure what it was that had made him so intent on finding her or where his fear was coming from but it'd been strong, voracious, in his every pore. He'd been playing down his fear, remained outwardly calm, until he started calling out her name at the school with no response from her. Then he'd tried to mask his fear with humor as he'd pushed the door open to the ladies locker room and had called out to her again. That was when he saw her laying on the floor. He'd wanted to run to her side, but panic had seized his limbs and he'd frozen.
He remembered the relief he'd felt when he called out her name and she'd woken up and how fear had struck again when they both realized that a bomb was strapped to her. He dug his sock clad toes into her carpet as he relived the moment with perfect clarity. It had been a strange moment. He always ran away from trouble, unless Red John was involved or… Lisbon. Lisbon had been spot on when she'd accused him of that.
The night of the bomb he'd been afraid, she'd been more afraid. It was the one instance in her nightmares where she was wrong. She hadn't asked him to leave, not that it would have mattered. She'd been too afraid and as far as he was concerned the bomb was just as attached to him as it was to her. He'd taken her hands as much to comfort himself as her. The call had come in and he'd told her to answer it. She was worried that it would set off the bomb. He responded by saying, "We'll never know." We'll… there was never a question of him leaving. In that moment they were one in thoughts and actions.
It wasn't the first time, but it was a critical time, because their lives immediately depended on their actions. He remembered the exact moment that Lisbon's thoughts had diverged from his own. He'd cut in on her conversation with the mad bomber and her face had panicked momentarily, then she'd rolled her eyes at him when he was officially roped into helping her break into the CBI.
Their thoughts had merged once more when they'd found the bomber, she'd gone along with his "confessing his feelings for her" act, and then again when he'd started talking about the pain of dying and how much it was going to hurt, although he realized that she was only half playing along when she'd ordered him to leave. Like that was going to happen. If his plan failed and they hadn't gotten the trigger, he knew there was a good chance she'd die and there was no way he was going to leave her to die without him.
He remembered her scolding him afterwards and felt a smile creeping over his face. She had been pissed. He told her that he'd wanted to go, but that his ego kept him from doing so, that if he'd left he would have looked like a coward. Even as he was saying it he knew it wasn't true and he knew she'd known it wasn't true as well, but as always she played along. It was what they did, what they were accustomed to—it was safe.
He opened his eyes again and looked over at her, she was snuggled very comfortably into the blanket he'd put over her. He decided that he very much liked waking up on couches with her next to him. Maybe they could take a nap on the couch in her office next, or in his hotel except he didn't have a couch in his hotel, only a bed… His stomach churned once more. He couldn't figure out where all these thoughts were coming from. He fidgeted then jumped when one of her feet slid into the side of his leg.
Neither of them was very comfortable and he had a feeling they'd both wake up sore if they stayed like this. Jane stood up begrudgingly and stretched his arms back. Then he took the few steps towards Lisbon's head and stopped.
"Teresa," he whispered, "go ahead, stretch out." He pulled the blanket from her and grabbed her right arm lifting her up gently.
She blinked at him through heavy lids. "Jane? What are you doing?"
"Stretch out," he repeated coaxing her to straighten out on the couch. She did as he said and ended up stretching her legs out until her toes pointed and pushed her arms out way above her head. Adorable, Jane thought. When she finally came to a rest Jane spread the blanket over her again. Once she was covered he started to turn away from her but stopped when he felt her small hand on his wrist. He looked down at her, brows raised.
"Don't leave," she said so quietly he barely heard her. Her hand dropped and she was out like a light once more.
He looked at her curiously. He had planned on leaving, but how could he now? He pushed the coffee table away from the couch, grabbed the pillow he'd been using and the throw that was on the back of her chair, being careful not to knock her pile of clothes onto the floor. He removed his vest dumping it on the floor by the end of the couch then moved back to the space he'd made for himself on the floor. He wrapped the throw around himself and lay stomach down on the carpet. It wasn't as ideal as waking up with her right next to him like when they'd fallen asleep at work, but waking up with her in close proximity was good too. He inhaled the smell of the pillow that was so distinctly Teresa Lisbon then turned his head and miraculously fell asleep.
The blanket over Lisbon's bare legs were suddenly too much, too hot. Her skin was warm, sensitive, she couldn't take it anymore. She kicked them down with a flurry and felt a chill run through her body, not from the cold, but from him. His lips trailed up her neck, down her jawline, slowly, enticingly, until they teased the corner of her lips.
"Teresa," he murmured, "kiss me." He took possession of her lips with his own, moving his with hers in gentle but firm motions, taking care to learn every inch of hers with his. He grabbed her jersey clad hip and turned her on her side so she was facing him. Her heart jumped into her throat as his arms wrapped possessively around her waist and as he scooted flush against her not even an inch remained between them. Their legs intertwined, his slacks brushed over her legs tickling them.
His mouth moved slowly away from hers past her chin and to her neck. Her eyes fluttered but didn't open and she lifted her chin back to allow him easier access. She felt groggy—confused, but the sensations his lips were creating on her skin took priority.
"I like… your… jersey," he said in a husky voice between butterfly kisses. "What's the… 99 for?"
She slid her arms up from where they'd been laying lightly on his shoulders and delved them into his curls before eagerly searching for his lips. She wasn't interested in talking right now. She could feel him smiling as their mouths came together once more and once again a pleasant shudder shot through her body.
"Hmm?" he hummed against her mouth after a moment, then pulled away. They were both breathing heavily. "The 99?"
She hitched her leg over his bringing them just a little bit closer and felt her body quake when his hand skimmed over her bare calf. His lips connected with hers again, this time almost viciously.
It was a moment before he pulled away. "You think you can distract me with your feminine wiles, but I will not be deterred woman." His mouth immediately found her neck placing hungry kisses all over it.
"Stop talking," she finally said. Her voice was huskier than his and near foreign to her own ears. She swallowed deeply before kissing him again. She wasn't sure why he felt so talkative all of a sudden anyway. Hadn't they both just been sleeping and now… well there were better things he could be doing with his mouth.
His hand moved slowly up her thigh over her butt and to her back. Her body screamed at the sensations his fingers were causing but her mind, though groggy, suddenly felt as though this was strange. She nipped at his bottom lip and felt a sense of triumph when a moan escaped his mouth. This had apparently been all it had taken to move things along and before she knew it he had her pushed back against the cushions and was hovering over her.
Her hands slid down his chest and started undoing each and every button as he kissed her fervently. She felt his abdomen flinch away from her touch and again felt a sense of triumph. She wondered why that was, but quickly became distracted again as she undid the last button. She slid his shirt off his shoulders and he pulled away from her long enough to remove it from his wrists and toss it onto the floor with his vest. His mouth found hers again quickly and she smiled at his urgency.
She felt his hand slowly sliding down from her waist to the hem of her jersey and her heart began to beat more rapidly than it had been. How that was possible she wasn't sure. His hand grasped her shirt, but he stopped and she felt disappointed. His mouth slid away from hers, across her cheek and to her ear. She could feel his warm breath tickling her neck, his soft lips next to her earlobe. Her body arched into his without her consent.
"Teresa," he whispered her name almost reverently, "I need you to say it." His voice was so different than it had been earlier. Instead of cocky and light it was desperate and needy and it caused a wave of fear and confusion she couldn't explain to hit her like a wave.
"What?" she asked as her fingers dug urgently into his bare shoulders.
He kissed her behind her ear then slid his mouth back to rest on her earlobe. "My name."
She smiled briefly, pleased that it was such a simple request, then panicked when she opened her mouth to speak and no name came out.
She could feel him smile against her cheek. "Patrick," he encouraged her.
"Patrick?" she repeated curiously as she finally allowed her eyes to open. She blinked a few times before her eyes cleared. Her brow furrowed at the man smiling above her. She became abruptly aware of his hand slowly, slowly, lifting the hem of her jersey. Her breath caught in her throat and her hand flew to his and grabbed it stopping his progress.
"Jane!" she yelped as she sat upright on her sofa.
She looked around the room anxiously as she pulled the hem of her shirt down as far as it would go. She was in her living room, on her couch. Her comforter was on the floor, her sheets kicked down to her feet and Jane… was nowhere in sight. Her breathing and heart beat were sporadic. She forced herself to think. It was Thursday morning. Four days since Jane had spent the night and had slept on the floor next to her on the couch.
"Sheep dip," she groaned as she realized what had happened. She fell back into her pillows and covered her rapidly warming face with her arms. "Not again!"
Jane made his way out of the elevator and towards the bullpen. He glanced into Lisbon's office as he passed, but she wasn't there. He felt his brow furrow as he entered the bullpen, past Rigsby and Cho and their desks then came to an abrupt halt at Grace's desk. His right hand went into his right pant pocket and his left went into an L shape as he began rubbing his thumb over his index finger. He turned back to the team, who were now staring at him, but didn't say anything.
He'd wanted to ask where Lisbon was, but decided against it. She'd been acting strangely since Sunday and he wasn't the only one who'd noticed. He didn't want to add fuel to the fire. When they'd woken up on Monday morning, her face had been flushed and she hustled him out of her apartment. He assumed she was embarrassed to be waking up with him there, but she'd been keeping some distance between them all week. Yesterday, she'd even turned when she saw him coming and had high-tailed it to the elevator. He'd followed her and asked what she was doing, but she'd brushed it off telling him she'd left something downstairs. She hadn't been downstairs since last week.
He knew she wasn't having nightmares anymore, so that couldn't be it. He'd recognized that her nightmares were deeply seeded in her denial. As soon as she confessed her fear to herself, and him as the case happened to be, the nightmares would stop. Besides he'd seen no reason to suggest that she hadn't been sleeping. She wasn't as cranky as she'd been, she hadn't had a headache all week and she looked well rested with a healthy glow.
"Any cases?" he finally asked.
"No," Grace told him, "I'm glad though, it's nice to get caught up on paperwork, plus if we're not bored people are getting murdered." She shrugged.
No cases, great, he thought indignantly. He was starting to worry about Lisbon and desperately wanted something to distract him.
Rigsby smiled and returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him, Van Pelt did as well. Cho stood up and grabbed a box off his desk and walked over to Jane.
"Here," Cho said handing Jane the box. Jane didn't take it. "Lisbon wants you to look through these cold cases, see what you can see."
"She does, does she?" he asked rolling back on his heels.
Cho pushed the box against Jane's chest. "Yes."
"Meh, it's busy work and you know it," he whined before taking the box from Cho disinterestedly. Where was she? It wasn't like her to be this late. Maybe she'd called in, desperate, for some unfathomable reason, to stay as far away from him as she could. She had been avoiding him, he was sure of it.
Cho walked back to his desk and sat down, ignoring Jane. Jane's stomach sank, no one was going to volunteer information about Lisbon whereabouts, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
"What if we all leave and go to lunch?" He dropped the bait.
Rigsby's head shot up. "We can't do that," he said as he licked his lips.
"Why not? It's not like Lisbon's here to make us stay." He cringed internally. It wasn't his smoothest move, but it hadn't been too obvious.
"It's only eight-thirty and if we don't get this paperwork done before she gets here, she'll know we left," Grace said with a small grin.
Jane shrugged. "Slave driver," he said. This was not working as well as he'd hoped, but at least he'd made it easier to inquire as to her whereabouts. He turned and moved slowly to his couch. "Where is Lisbon?" he asked casually as he sat the box down.
"Didn't say," Cho told him.
He looked toward him then turned and sat down on the couch. "Hmm." He sighed, then flipped the box open and grabbed the first file out. He was about to start looking though it when he saw movement in his peripheral vision in the direction of Lisbon's office. He looked up and saw her walk through her door.
Before he knew what he was doing he was up, tossing the file behind him. Cho said something about the papers that were now cascading around his sofa as he passed but he ignored him as he exited the bullpen and made his way to Lisbon's office. Whatever was going on had to stop, he was going to get it out of her or his name wasn't Patrick Jane.
She was hanging her jacket up when came in.
He stopped abruptly and took her in. She was wearing her black button-up shirt with the red lining, jeans and her hair was pulled back into a bun.
"Satisfied," he said. He'd meant to sound livid, but it had come out as a choked stage whisper.
She jumped then turned quickly, her eyes narrowed when she saw him and made his stomach clench. She was angry or irritated. "What?" she snarled.
"You've got me working on cold cases while you're out… doing whatever it is you were… doing." He was trying not to focus on the lovely glow she had this morning. Plus he was pretty sure she was wearing more makeup than she normally did. Still he couldn't be bothered with such irritating thoughts right now. He had to get to the bottom of this and now.
"Geese, Jane," she scolded. "Are you totally incapable of knocking? You scared the life out of me."
He couldn't help but notice her visibly relax.
"No, if I wanted to scare the life out of you I'd leave for another six months." He knew it was childish, but he didn't care right now.
Her eyes narrowed even more. "That's not funny." She moved to her desk and sat down.
"Well I don't particularly enjoy you ignoring and running from all week long either," he placed his hands on her desk and looked her in the eyes. "Are you angry with me?" His tone softened.
Her eyes opened wide, surprised. She felt bad. "No, Jane." She closed her eyes, placed her elbows on her desk and allowed her head to drop into her hands. "I'm not mad at you."
"What's going on then?"
She lifted her head and peeked through her hands, then reluctantly dropped them to her desk. "I was… I didn't mean to make you think I was mad. I'm not. It has nothing to do with you." She stopped speaking abruptly on her last declaration, blushed fiercely and looked away from him. Jane stood tall. That was strange and so unlike any of the variations of this conversation he'd imagined.
"Teresa," he started not exactly sure what he was going to say. "You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" That'd work.
She looked at him again, the fierceness returned. "Not this I can't," she said firmly, "and I would really appreciate it if you didn't push or use any of your mind games on me."
He narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "If you don't tell me, than I can't make any promises."
She pushed her chair back and stood up abruptly. "No, I guess you can't. Surprise, surprise." Her voice was full of mocking anger. "I'm not mad at you now, but if you don't leave this alone I will be and the cold shoulder you've been feeling all week will be like a balmy summer breeze in comparison to what I'll give you if you don't."
This was serious. He was speechless. She'd always confided in him, and he couldn't imagine what would make her stop now. He wasn't going to drop it, how could he now? He'd just have to make her think he was so he could snoop behind her back.
"Okay. I won't pry, on one condition." He shoved his hands into his vest pockets.
She placed her hands on her hips, took a deep relaxing breath and looked down at the floor before making eye contact again. "What's that?"
"No more cold shoulder. I can't stand it Lisbon." He felt a chill run down his spine. "You're my only real friend and when you shut me off, it's miserable and lonely. What you said on Sunday about you and Red John being the most important people in my life, well it was partly true. I haven't been lonely in a while and I'm not eager to go back to that."
Her angry expression changed rapidly into a sad one. He hadn't wanted to make her sad, hell he hadn't even meant to confess what he had, it'd just come out. He rolled back on his heels and looked away from her. He couldn't take her gaze anymore.
"I'm sorry, Jane," she said quietly. "I didn't know…"
He felt a little braver at her words. "I know, but now you do. So if I've done something particularly heinous, talk to me. We always talk, or you yell and then we get over it. It's a flawed system I realize, but it's always worked for us."
"It has," she conceded. "It just can't this time, okay?"
He nodded. He'd given her one last chance, now he'd have to meddle.
She shoved her hands in her front pockets. "You're looking at cold cases?" she asked sincerely curious.
Cho had obviously played him; Lisbon hadn't said anything about the cold cases. "Yes," he responded simply.
"I don't have anything particularly pressing this morning," her boss voice returned. "Why don't you go grab what you've been looking at and we can go over it together."
"You don't have to do that." He suddenly felt like a little kid.
"I'm not asking Jane," she ordered pointing towards the bullpen, "go get it!" She walked over to him and pushed him out of her office when he looked at her obstinately.
"Alright, alright," he whined, then noticed her walking away from her office and towards the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
"I need coffee," she spoke over her shoulder.
He smiled. She still had a secret, but at least she was talking to him. The secret would come soon enough. "Make me a tea would you?"
She grumbled something he knew was a yes and disappeared into the kitchen.
The day had gone by quickly and Lisbon was relieved that Jane had confronted her this morning. She had been acting silly. The dreams were probably a reflection of her fears of him leaving again or her desire to get to know him better, not biblically of course, but he had a lot of secrets. Or maybe her mind was just messing with her after her date with Ryan. Trying to scare her away from a decent possibility. Even she couldn't deny she was a runner. Anytime things became remotely serious with a guy, she'd get the itch.
Then again that didn't make since, she'd only been on one date with him. She smiled thinking about him, and then of course he'd been texting her back and forth all week and they'd talked a few times on the phone as well. He was a lot funnier than she'd originally thought. She shoved a lock of hair behind her ear and looked back down at her paperwork. This case was frustrating, she could understand why it'd gone cold. Still, she'd be surprised if Jane couldn't figure it out.
She looked across the table in her office and at Jane. He was reading the same page he'd already read four times. His brow was furrowed and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. On his third time through he'd told her that he felt he was missing something important. She watched his fingers slide down the paper and felt suddenly hot. She remembered her reoccurring dream, swallowed and looked away. Why did the dreams have to be so… so real? She lifted her wrist and looked at her watch. Six. She sighed in relief.
It was time to go. Ryan had talked her into going out today instead of tomorrow, although he insisted that she would want to go out with him tomorrow as well. She'd laughed and said "we'll see." Right now, she was certainly glad she'd agreed to go. She'd spent the entire day in extremely close proximity to Jane, and it had been muddling her brain. It was harder to repress the dreams when he was so close.
She had done a pretty good job, but there was the moment she'd mistakenly pushed him out of her office feeling the hard muscles in his shoulders that had brought back her dream in full force and to add insult to injury his smell had filled her every sense and she swore she could smell him just as strongly as if he'd been standing right next to her all day. Then there was the moment she'd passed him a file and his hand had brushed over hers, and the moment she'd caught him staring at her. It was irritating.
She stood up and made her way to her coat rack. "I'm heading out," she told him.
He finally pulled his eyes away from the file he'd been staring at for the better part of an hour. "What time is it?"
She lifted her watch. "Six-ten," she told him. She was supposed to be downstairs ten minutes ago.
"Leaving before nightfall?" He raised his brow. "Wow, I'm impressed. So what's dragging you out of here?" He looked back down at his file.
She swallowed. She really didn't want to tell him, but she knew that if she didn't tell him it'd lead to disaster. One secret was more than enough to keep from him at a time. He looked up at her and she realized she still hadn't answered. "Well, I… have a date with Ryan tonight."
He sat up in his chair and put his file down. "I thought you were going out with him tomorrow night?"
"Um, well, I was," might still be, "but he convinced me to go out tonight." She kept her tone professional as she gathered up her things.
"I thought you didn't like him that much…" his voice sounded almost dejected, but she chose to ignore it.
"We've talked a few times this week and well, he's funny and he's really cute." She moved around her desk and to the door. "Have a good night Jane," she said. When he didn't respond she turned and left.
Jane felt sick. How had this happened without his noticing? Of course—she'd been avoiding him all week, he'd hardly seen her, that's how it'd happened. He stood up and made his way quickly to the windows in the bullpen and looked out just as Ryan the "cute" EMT opened the door to his truck for Lisbon and then shut it behind her. His eyes narrowed. Of course he'd have a truck, he thought bitterly.
He shook his head and stepped away from the window. He was being ridiculous. A truck was a perfectly respectable vehicle, safe even. If they got in an accident she'd been safer than if she was in let's say, oh a Citroen. Plus it wasn't like he had any kind of a claim on Lisbon, or that he wanted one. Sure, he'd been having disturbing and confusing thoughts about her a lot lately, but there could be any number of reasons behind that.
He walked over to his couch and sat down. She was his friend, she was loyal and kind. She was always there for him and he knew deep down, even when she'd been avoiding him all week, that she always would be. She would never abandon him. Plus she was funny, smart, an amazing officer, infinitely patient with him, and if he was being totally honest she wasn't bad to look at either. It made sense that his feelings for her would be confused.
He swung his feet up, scooted down and made himself comfortable as he threw his arm over his eyes. That's all it was. He was confusing his admiration, and the fear of losing her for… something else. An image of Lisbon leaning into Ryan, and of Ryan putting his arm around her popped into his head. He growled deep down in his throat, then quickly cleared it.
When the fast succession of three beeps and vibration of his phone started it took him a moment to realize what it was. He lowered his arm, quickly grabbed his phone and flipped it open to the message. He smiled as he read: Meet me in the usual spot at 8pm. This was just the distraction he needed.
Well, I hope you enjoyed it and that you're not too mad at me. It was a little mean, but I assure you it's entirely necessary. I've been planing it from the beginning, which is why she had the dream about Jane getting killed... Anyway, this was very nerve-racking for me to write so I'd love to know what you think of it. Have a wonderful day!