If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 39

Saturday 12:00 am

Matt held the door for Jean as he and Paul arrived back at their apartment. The place was still a mess, but it was a comforting mess to her. Still not speaking to either of them, Paul dumped his clothes on the sofa. Not bothering to stifle a yawn, he went into his bedroom and shut the door.

"He's not much of a host," Matt explained with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"He's not much of anything," Jean said.

"Hey," he protested. "He's not that bad. He didn't want you getting hurt tonight, so he's letting you stay here. Can't you cut him some slack for that at least? Why do you hate him so much?"

Jean didn't want to answer that. She was suddenly tired, tired beyond belief. She didn't want to say anything, but she couldn't lie to Matt, she owed him. Plus, there was something about him that made her want to be honest with him from the beginning. She stayed silent as she sat down next to Paul's rugby clothes. Dirt and sweat reached up through the air and hit her in the face. Unconsciously, she breathed it in, then consciously she breathed it in more. It smelled good to her. Matt watched her, waiting.

"Talk to me," he demanded in that calm voice of his.

Jean thought about what she was going to say, how it could hurt all that she had accomplished. Matt might not want to be with her, but she wasn't sure he'd even still want to be friends after she told him the truth. She needed him on her side. Matt's grey eyes silvered in the pale light, still he waited. She held up her hand. To her surprise, it was shaking. Matt was Paul' s roommate did she really trust him with any of her secrets? But he'd been the only one to help her. All this time he still hadn't said a word. He deserved better than silence.  She made up her mind, one fact standing stronger than the rest: she didn't want to go this alone.

"Matt, when Sean called me back, he told me Erik used to spend time at Albion Lake. What do you think?" she asked.

He didn't hesitate. "I think he's lying."

He sounded so sure. "Why?"

"You've gone there, haven't you?" he replied. "It's a small lake, more of a public park. I've been there a few times, and I've never seen a cabin. Of course there are a lot of woods there, I could be wrong."

Jean shook her head. "It didn't feel right to me either, but he wouldn't open the door again, lousy, lying worm—" She went off on a rant, but Matt wasn't about to let her off the hook.

"Jean," he interrupted her gently. "There's something more to all this, isn't there? It's not just that you're worried about Megan. Talk to me Jean-Genie."

She paled. She didn't want to lose her only ally, not now. "No," she whispered, not wanting to face his too understanding eyes, "Morning. I'll tell you about it in the morning, please, not now," she begged.

He held out his hand to her; his eyes held out their trust. "OK," he agreed. "Morning it is. You can have my bed. I'll sleep here on the couch."

"I can't take your bed," she protested.

"Yes, you can. You need the sleep more than I do. I can tell."

Jean was too tired to argue. She followed him into his bedroom. Taking one look at the spotlessly neat room, she took a deep breath.

'Expecting company?" she asked with a weak smile.

"Military school. You never really get out."

Private school. Something else they had in common. He was perfect, except for that not wanting her problem. Jean wanted to kick something. How can I be so attracted to a guy who looks at me like I'm his sister? Matt pulled down the bed sheets.

"You'll be okay here, and first thing tomorrow we'll talk to the police. This thing is getting way out of hand. I think it's time we let the professionals handle it."

Jean didn't argue. Time enough for that tomorrow. Unsnapping her bra below her shirt, she slid it out from her clothes, took off her jeans and climbed into bed. Matt tried not to watch but as he left the room he saw what she was doing in the mirror. He found himself thinking how great her hair looked tumbled across his pillow. How he suddenly wished it was tumbled across his chest instead. The sofa was very hard that night.