Page 61 of Jump on Three

“Give me information I can use. What did she look like?”

A pinpoint of light flicked on behind his dull eyes. “Oh, yeah. Should have led with that.” He held his hand at his sternum. “She was about this tall, small little thing. Pretty, thick dark hair, brown eyes, tan skin. She had a nose like the women in those old paintings, you know? Roman nose or some shit. Nice lips. Real nice lips.”

I did not want who he was describing to be who I thought it was—the only girl it could be.

“Accent?” I bit out.

He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, now that you mention it, she did have some kind of accent. Couldn’t place it. Not British, but kind of like that. You know her?”

“Yes. I know her.” I gave him a flat look. “If she comes back, tell me. Do not send her away. Let me handle it.”

His brow dropped. “Is she giving you trouble?”

“Yes, but not the kind that requires fists.” I jerked my chin, needing out of this place even more. “Thank you for telling me. Something like this happens again; I need to know right away, not days later.”

He saluted me. “You got it, boss.”

Pfft. I wasn’t his boss, but if he thought of me that way, all the better for me.

I finally left Lyot and sprawled in the back of the car. One hour to return to Savage Academy and my plans of sleeping the drive away had been upended by Evelyn Kastanos.

What had she been doing at Lyot? Had she followed me here?

She’d made things clear last week, and I’d stayed away from her for my own fucking good. So why the hell was she still haunting me?

I did not like the idea of her in LA by herself, talking to men who were strangers to her—massive, violent men who would not hesitate to pick her up and toss her aside like a piece of paper.

This was not okay with me. Not only had she put herself in danger, she’d invaded my space when I’d told her I’d needed it.

There was only so much patience I had for Evelyn. It might have seemed infinite, but it was not. My own bruised pride and disappointment had worn through a substantial portion. It was gossamer now, wispy as butterfly wings.

I could not allow myself any room to grow closer to her if I was constantly set aside when she was reminded her sister might have once had romantic feelings for me. Delilah had moved on, as had I, but that miserable fucking day in room three, I’d accepted Evelyn wouldn’t let it go.

I’d spent my life ramming my head into a brick wall, hoping the next hit would change the outcome, and I refused to do that with Evelyn, no matter that my gut told me we could have something real and beautiful if we could figure each other out.

My urge to figure Evelyn out was almost stronger than my sense of self-preservation, but not quite.

I would have to make sure she understood she could not follow me again—for my sanity and her safety.

Monday afternoon, we were boarding a bus for a swim meet thirty miles away. I bypassed the spot near the front where I’d sat last time and headed for the empty seat beside Evelyn. She didn’t look up from her knitting until I was beside her. When her eyes landed on me, her entire body jerked.

Her headphones were over her ears. If things were different, I would have leaned my head against hers to hear what she was listening to, but we weren’t there. We never would be.

She quickly looked away, bending her head to focus on her knitting. If I thought she was really ignoring me, I would have been bothered, but she was aware of me. Her breathing had sped up. Her fingers were making all the right moves as far as I could tell, but they weren’t lightning fast like usual, and her arms were glued to her sides.

Oh yes. She was aware of me.

I waited until we were on the road to put my hand over hers. She made a soft yipping sound and jumped in her seat. Bending forward, I put my face near hers.

“I need to talk to you.”

She stared at me with wide eyes, frozen in place. There was something glinting from her gaze that hadn’t been there before. Fear didn’t make sense. She had no reason to be afraid of me, but that was what I was reading in her.

She slipped her headphones off her ears, and for a second, I thought I heard Russian, but she pressed her phone screen, turning it off.

If this were two weeks ago, I would have asked what she had been listening to. But I’d made it so it was no longer my place to ask because I could not allow myself to care anymore.

She wasn’t looking at me, and her body was tense, braced for something. I guessed me.