Saving Jane (18+)

7: Stepping Back

Fire light flickering across her face, alighting her caramel colored eyes, and yet Trevor was still distracted by the deeper sadness that obscured her outer glow. He was ecstatic when Jane hinted at burning the disgustingly perfect wedding photos in her house. Overwhelmed when she even threw all of her husband's, hopefully ex, clothing out of the upstairs window.

Now they were standing around the ashen aftermath, and still Jane wasn't herself. He didn't expect her to fully heal for a while, and he didn't even know who she really was. Though it bothered him, it wasn't exactly his concern. He was there solely to protect her, not catch unrequited feelings.

Trevor made eye contact with Jane from across the fire, "You good?" He asked.

The left corner of her mouth lifted slightly, but the right did the opposite and overrode her effort to smile. She frowned, her eyes watered and he forced himself to stay put.

She sniffed quietly, locking her eyes on the dying fire. "Better," she mumbled. The urge to hug her to him was devastating. He couldn't overstep that boundary, a hug was all he intended for it to be. But with her, and his attraction, if he so much as caught one glance into her eyes while she was pressed against him, he would without a doubt cross that boundary. Hell. He'd fucking leap if Jane let him.

Trevor settled with just being there, the simple fact that he got to be the one to make sure she didn't feel completely alone was enough to sate his need for more.

***

Trevor stomped through the house, his concern for Jane maddening. She'd been missing all morning, and after a week of being there at the house with her, learning her routine to a T, he knew her disapearance wasnt normal.

He shoved doors open a little too roughly, yelled loudly, but still there was no sign of her. Worried, he pulled out his phone as he sifted through items on the counter, in search of reason she could have left without saying anything, and prepared to call for backup. He found a letter from Progue city holding center, he knew without a doubt that letter was from Jane's husband. He wanted to throw the damn thing away immediately, but that wasn't his place.

Trevor began pacing and then dialed his brother.

"What's up T?" Braydie answered.

"Can you track Jane's phone? She's been M.I.A. all morning."

Braydie made a tick noise, "lost the client already, that's not like you brother."

He knew that. The whole week had just become repetitive and Trevor just wanted to stay out Jane's space as much as possible. He didn't respond.

"Good news. And bad news."

Trevor stiffened. "What?"

"Bad news, you're a fucking idiot. Good news, she's in the house." The line went dead.

Trevor cursed and went over the places he hadn't searched in her house. Then he heard it, the thumping beneath him. There was a door next to the fridge, he originally thought led to a pantry, but when he opened it and met wooden steps leading down to concrete floors he mentally scolded himself. Getting to know the layout of janes house was a must. Carefully he descended the stairs.

At 6 foot 4 and weighing down with muscle, the steps might as well have been death traps for him. Every creak, every groan, had him thinking he was going to fall right through the damn things. When he reached the concrete floor he drew his weapon, preparing himself for the worst possible scenario losing Jane for over an hour could bring.