“That’s rough. I’m sorry. Did you have other family around to help?”
Like a switch was flipped, Jenna’s entire demeanor changed. She tensed and her eyes dropped to the table, but not before I saw the pain in them. “The neighborshelped.” She said the word “helped” like it was a dirty word.
My blood boiled and my fists clenched. Now I knew the motherfuckers responsible. Everything about her was screaming it. Her neighbors were going to pay for every single thing they'd ever done to her while her parents were apparently too busy working to notice or care what was being done to their daughter.
I used every ounce of control to keep my expression neutral as I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground. I needed to know more, but this wasn’t the time or place. Jenna took care of it all on her own, though. She blinked up at the colorful lights above our table, and when she returned her eyes to me, they were remarkably clear considering how she’d looked just a moment earlier.
She smiled. “So, you left the Army and joined the fire service? That’s quite the resume.”
Fuck. I didn’t want to have that conversation either, but I’d gladly take the heat off her. “Depends on who you ask. If you ask a firefighter, yes. If you ask the men and women who devote their lives to the military, what I did is a drop in the bucket.” I looked at the table, tracing a water ring from my glass before I dragged my eyes back up to meet hers. “If you ask my team, I left right when they needed me the most.”
“Liam,” she whispered. She grabbed my hand, her two tiny hands barely covering my big one.
“I walked away the first opportunity I got. They didn’t get to walk away at all.”
A beat passed. Then another. And then tears popped into her eyes and she squeezed my hand as my words sank in. “I’m so sorry about your team, but it’s not your fault.”
I fought the urge to blank my expression. Forced myself to hold Jenna’s gaze and let it all hang out between us. I wanted full honesty with her. “I left them. Walked away without a scar, physical or emotional.”
“That’s bull,” she snapped. “Stop saying you walked away. First, you served your term, and I have no doubt you did it well. The men and women who dedicate years and years are special and deserve the utmost respect. But they couldn’t do what they do without people like you. Second, you aren’t psychic. You aren’t God. You had no way of knowing what would happen to them, and you had no control over it. Third, I’m really glad you got out without any physical injuries. But, emotionally? I’m not buying that.”
Damn, she didn’t pull any punches. Would she be as blunt when it came to herself? Thank goodness the waitress brought over our flan just then, a welcome distraction. I didn’t want to talk about me anymore. To hell with my good intentions, I needed to know more about Jenna’s childhood and her neighbors.
I let Jenna have the first bite, then I took one. “Mmm, this is good,” I said. “Firm on the outside, jiggly in the middle.”
Jenna giggled. “Is jiggly an official food descriptor?”
I nodded seriously. “Jiggliness is a critical factor to properly critique flan and jello.”
Her laugh was musical. I was tempted to continue with the silliness. Maybe I should have. But the fury still pumping through my veins pressed me to learn more about her neighbor.
“Where in Atlanta did you grow up?”
“Buckhead, right outside the city. Then I came out here to attend UT Austin, and I liked it there, but I fell in love with San Antonio immediately when I visited Juliette’s family for a weekend. You grew up here, didn’t you?”
Good try, but I wasn’t that easily deterred. “Yes. Do you go back east often?”
I was an ass. Jenna tensed, and I wished I could take the question back. “No, I haven’t been back in years. I...”
What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d have time later to figure out if Jenna avoided going home because her parents still lived next to the person, or people, who’d instilled so much fear in her. I wanted to know everything about Jenna, but my need to know about her childhood, about her neighbor, came from a darker place inside of me.
Not like this, though. I didn’t need to interrogate her. I needed to earn her trust first. I needed to help her feel safe.
I pushed back the rage that threatened to bubble over and smiled. “I’m sorry. Yes, I grew up in Alamo Heights and our restaurant was near the Riverwalk, so San Antonio is definitely home for me.”
“Is the restaurant still there?”
“The people we sold it to still run it, but it’s not the same. Ours was old-school, hearty Italian. Now it’s all modern. Less cheese, more salad.”
“Too bad, I would have loved to go when your family owned it.”
“You’ll have to settle for their home cooking instead, and their ice cream when they open that. I’ll take you down to them in Galveston one day.” The words came out without thought, but they felt so right. I’d love to take Jenna to meet my parents. They would love her.
“I’d like that. Tell me more about your family.”
“My parents are retired, but getting antsy with all their free time, hence the ice cream shop. My brother and sister followed them into the hospitality and restaurant businesses. Chris works for a hotel chain. He’s had to travel a little for work, but seems to have settled down now near L.A. Emma’s at the culinary institute in New York. She wants to be a chef, but not to own a restaurant like we did growing up.”
“So the restaurant was a family affair?”