“Not at all. I just hope everything’s okay.”
“So do I.” She gave him a tight smile.”
“Well, go. Have fun with your young man. He’s an intense one, isn’t he?” Doc wandered away without waiting for a reply.
Chapter Eleven
Jenna sat down on the sofa and looked awkwardly at Curt.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” she called out to Travis, who was doing the dishes. She stood, ready to help him. She had to do something. Despite barely sleeping, working all day, then coming home to cook dinner, she felt full of energy.
“Sit down,” Curt told her without looking up from his phone. Whatever he was reading seemed to upset him as he frowned, then tapped out a message. “He’s fine. You’ve been working all day. Just rest.”
Yeah, resting wasn’t something she’d ever been good at. Keeping busy kept her from thinking too much.
“I’m going to do some laundry.”
Curt looked up, piercing her with his hazel gaze.
“You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”
She smiled at him tightly, trying to ignore the pang of
hurt. When she’d gotten home, she’d put on some track pants and an old T-shirt and tied her hair up into a messy bun. Now she had the urge to race upstairs and fix her hair, maybe put on the makeup she’d just washed off. But why should she? This was her usual after work attire, if he didn’t like it then he didn’t have to look at her.
She tapped her foot. “I can’t just sit around.”
He shook his head, a small smile on his face.
“What?” she asked defensively. “What is it?”
“Just remembering you as a child. You never could sit still.”
Right, because all he saw when he looked at her was a kid.
As if she hadn’t gotten that message loud and clear.
“I’ll be in the laundry room, if you need anything.” She stormed into the small space, blinking back tears of frustration and disappointment.
She’d thought he’d been about to kiss her the other night, but obviously she’d been mistaken. She’d misread things. Again.
She shook her head as she threw a load of dirty clothes into the machine and added powder. This was all Travis’s fault. He was the one going around insinuating Curt felt something for her.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a minute. She was exhausted. A headache was forming in her temples, a mix of tiredness and tension, and she still hadn’t managed to talk to her mother. She should really do that now.
Walking back into the living room, she grabbed her phone then headed up the stairs to her bedroom.
“Jenna? You okay?” Curt asked.
“Fine.”
She snorted. It was the question she hated most, she’d heard it so often since she’d been kidnapped. It was almost as bad as all the pitying looks. She’d gotten used to automatically telling people she was fine. It was what they expected her to say.
She’d often wondered what they’d do if she’d turned around and told them she was a mess. That she suffered from nightmares where she heard screams of terror that were quickly silenced by gunshots, that she often woke up in the middle of a panic attack that could leave her shaken and vulnerable for hours.
But she could never do it. Making someone else feel bad wouldn’t help her. In fact, it would probably only make her feel worse.
“You sure know how to say the wrong thing, don’t you?”