If you're in a predicament and you don't know how to mend the situation, do you ignore it and hope it gets better? Do you ask someone for advice or assistance? Do you give it your best shot, hoping it will have the outcome you want? I had so many plans. I'd been thinking about getting a puppy once I started my new job at the medical office. I was going to move to a condo where I could have a pet, and I planned to start working toward my doctorate in the fall. The more thought I gave it, the more it became set in stone that I'd definitely allowed myself to get too comfortable in Boston. I should've left when I had the chance. Maybe things would've been different.

What am I doing? I thought, staring blankly out another hotel window. Where did I go wrong? These things don't happen.

It was late in the night. We'd driven until Joey was so exhausted, he didn't think it would be safe if he tried to push on. Stopping in Mount Vernon, Illinois, we found another Hilton and called it a night. I'd been all too happy to rinse the dirt off my body and change into clean clothes. My shower had lasted so long that Joey complained I was going to use all the hot water in the hotel before he got a chance to clean up. We found a pizza parlor down the street and shared a large cheese pizza. I was starving, and judging by the way Joey dove into his first slice, so was he. We went to bed as soon as we finished eating. I was out like a light before my head even hit the pillow.

Luckily, this hotel had a room with two beds available, and I was glad I wouldn't have to awkwardly share a bed with Joey. Well, at least I thought I was glad. Once I awoke in the middle of the night, I wasn't so excited about sleeping alone. I rolled over, watching his chest rise and fall, and listening to his soft breathing as he slept. I longed to get out of my bed and crawl under the covers with him. I felt a blush creep up my neck when I thought about waking up with his arm draped over me at the last hotel. I tried to ignore the nagging urge to curl up next to Joey, but my feelings were persistent. I couldn't cross that line though. I couldn't let myself give in.

In an effort to get my mind off of him, I wandered over to the window where the light of a street lamp was shining through. Walking in front of the light, I was startled by my shadow on the wall until I realized it was me. I mentally cursed at myself for being so jumpy and took a seat on the window ledge, placing my hand over my heart to calm my pulse.

The curtain draped over my shoulder, shielding my back from the air conditioner that was blowing cold air toward the beds. Joey's soft snores were like a lullaby, comforting me while I leaned my back against the wall and looked out at the town.

The occasional car passed by. Mount Vernon wasn't very active at night. I jumped again at the sound of a door slamming down the hallway and squinted at our door to make sure we'd remembered to lock it. Small, neatly manicured trees cast menacing shadows across the pavement below while I stared at the crescent moon until my eyes burned.

The feeling of a warm hand on my arm almost frightened me out of my skin, but I could see part of Joey's reflection in the window. The street light shone on his face, glowing off his white T-shirt.

"Hey," he greeted me softly, his thumb caressing my shoulder.

I turned my body toward him, my hazel eyes meeting his vibrant blue ones. His hair hung down over his forehead, sticking up in places here and there. All my previous discomfort had easily faded in his presence and I was left with a warm, relaxing wave washing over my body. Still, it scared me how fast I got comfortable with this man.

He stood between my knees in front of me, his hand still on my shoulder. His eyes were scanning the parking lot for anything abnormal. I found myself wanting to hug him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and relax against his body. Standing there in the dim light, he looked younger, less damaged. No. Damaged wasn't the right word for him. I was the damaged one. In the darkness, I couldn't see the pain in his eyes, but I knew it was there, hiding, lingering near the surface, the same way my pain did. It was obvious to me that he'd been through a lot in a short amount of time – current situation aside – and I wanted to ask him what had left him so hurt, but I knew that the more he opened up to me, the harder it would make it not to develop feelings for him, and feelings were not an option.

"What's got you up?" he finally asked, eyes meeting mine once again.

I wanted to say something other than the obvious – that I couldn't sleep - but nothing came to mind. An uncontrollable craving and an ounce of courage brought me to touch him. A simple, yet so complex gesture. The back and forth movement of his thumb over my shoulder ceased. I heard him suck in a deep breath, watching me intently as my palm made contact with his abdomen. My hand slowly slid over his clothed stomach, taking in the feel of the tiny threads beneath my fingertips, eventually coming to rest on my own thigh.

I shouldn't have touched him. I should've found something else to focus my attention on. I should've carried on a normal conversation and returned to bed. I knew what I'd done was wrong and wondered if he'd say anything about it or just brush it off.

Joey hadn't looked away from me, even after I'd broken eye contact to stare at the awful green carpet out of shame. What was I thinking? This man was off limits. Touching him, even for a few seconds, was only going to complicate things more.

Joey's hand softly stroked my hair and I reluctantly met his eyes again. Seeing how close we were awakened a lust inside me that had been dormant for too long. I was beginning to realize just how much this man intrigued me - just how badly I wanted to kiss him. My head was saying no, but my body was screaming yes.

He took a step back and I rose from my spot on the ledge, standing dangerously close to him. I could smell the faint vanilla scent of the soap he'd used in the shower. I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to touch him again.

No. This can't happen. I won't let it.

He breathed a heavy sigh, glancing passed me. There was a lost look in his eyes and I recognized a flicker of the pain that had been hidden.

"Sometimes I regret becoming a cop," he mumbled where I could barely make out what he was saying. "Sometimes I think I put in too much effort only to get nothing in return. I sometimes wonder how different my life might be if I'd gone ahead with that business degree."

Where was this coming from? I didn't understand why he was telling me this, but I decided to listen and not interrupt. He clearly had a lot of pent up hurt that he needed to get off his chest. If wondering out loud to me took some of the weight off his shoulders, I was more than happy to stay up and hear his middle-of-the-night thoughts.

He was only a few inches from me, yet he looked a million miles away, staring blankly at nothing. I wanted to help, but how could I without knowing the full story? I knew there was a lot more to Joey's life than he cared to share, but I wouldn't press him about it. I hoped he'd eventually tell me.

"Regardless of whether or not you made the right career move, you're a great cop, Joey. I'm glad we met," I said softly, leaning into him. "I wish we'd crossed paths under better circumstances, but I'm glad I know you."

I might not be here without you.

And I was glad I knew him. It wasn't just to make him feel better, though I hoped it did. I really was thankful that he'd waltzed into my life and turned everything upside down. Granted, the circumstances were beyond fucked up, but I couldn't think of another person I'd want to be on the run with. Joey was something completely different compared to the men I was used to. He was courageous when he was scared. He kept a straight face when he was intimidated. He found a way to comfort me in the direst situations. He was also undeniably handsome, but that was beside the point.

The look on his face was puzzling. He didn't look happy about my statement, but he didn't seem sad or angry either. It occurred to me that I might be overstepping a boundary line by leaning against him, and I backed away.

"Don't," he muttered, pulling me back against his body.

His embrace was warm and reassuring. I laid my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, a slow, steady drum. His chest rose and fell with each breath in a comforting rhythm that began to make me sleepy again.

"Thank you," he whispered against my hair. "No one's ever said anything like that to me."

"Clearly, everyone's insane, then," I retorted.

I suddenly felt an overwhelming yearning to kiss him, but I knew that couldn't happen. I reminded myself again that he was off limits. I still didn't know if he might be taken!

If he had someone, you wouldn't be in his arms right now, my conscience dangled the bait in front of me.

"My department's going to kill me when they find out everything that's happened." Joey stepped away from me with a sigh.

I watched him walk back to his bed, raking his fingers through his bedhead. He flopped back on the mattress, generating a squeaky noise from the frame.

"None of this would've happened if they'd just listened to you in the first place," I pointed out. "Why don't they take this shit seriously?"

"Because I'm not a detective," he said quietly, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't investigate the crimes; therefore, I don't really get a say in what happens after the squad cars leave the scene and the responders write out their reports. The big boys take over then."

His explanation fueled the anger pumping through my veins. It was ridiculous. It was unfair. He'd been right and they'd been wrong. They should've listened to him!

I padded across the sticky carpet to Joey's bed and boldly laid down beside him. We laid there in the dark for several minutes before he finally turned his head to look at me. I didn't look back but I could feel his eyes on my face.

I fought the desire to get lost in his beautiful ocean eyes again. I refused to let myself entertain the possibility that I'd developed a crush on him. I was beginning to crave being in his arms every time our eyes met, and I knew that couldn't go on.

"Jess?" he breathed.

I felt the pressure on the mattress as he shifted, moving his hand to lace his fingers with mine. A tingly sensation erupted in my fingertips and traveled all the way up my arm.

I gave in to temptation and looked at him. "Joey."

His lips curved into a sexy smirk and the light streaming through the window reflected in his eyes, giving them a twinkling appearance. How dare he be so handsome.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Nothing else was said the rest of the night. Eventually we cuddled into the pillows and Joey pulled the covers up over us. Sleeping next to him no longer felt uncomfortable and that scared me almost as much as the man in the Cadillac did.

I fell asleep breathing in his sweet scent with the warmth and security of his chest against my back, his arm slung over my side. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and a chill swept through me, causing me to burrow further into his embrace. No matter how I screamed at myself inside my head that this was wrong, I couldn't deny that it felt so right.

Waking up beside him was equally as satisfying. Joey was still asleep when I opened my eyes and I didn't want to wake him. He looked so peaceful.

I stealthily slid out from under the covers and tiptoed to the bathroom. My mouth felt disgusting and I wanted – needed - to brush my teeth. Checking to make sure Joey was still asleep, I sneaked out the door. I had to be quick and quiet, knowing he would lose his shit if he woke up and I was gone. He'd made it damn clear that I wasn't supposed to leave his side unless I had to pee or shower. Part of me felt like I was being smothered, but for the most part, Joey's intrusiveness was appreciated. He made me feel safe, and I needed that now more than ever.

I went down to the lobby to see if they had any toiletries I could take advantage of, returning with two toothbrushes and some toothpaste a few minutes later. Turning on the light in the bathroom also turned on the exhaust fan, muffling all sounds outside of the tiny room. I took my time brushing my teeth and washing my face, thankful for the immediate refresh I felt.

I stared at the girl in the mirror looking back at me. She was still hurt, probably would be for years to come. She'd been through too much too early in life. But she was also a warrior, and she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone ruin her life again.

At some point during my morning hygiene, Joey had awakened. I opened the bathroom door to hear him on the phone, speaking in a hushed tone. I stayed hidden behind the door, assuming he didn't want me to hear his conversation. I turned the faucet back on to make him think I was still busy while I strained to listen in.

"What are they going to do about it?" I heard him ask. "Well, why didn't John suspect a connection?"

It was driving me nuts not knowing what he was talking about or who he was talking to. My pulse quickened at the mention of the word murder. Joey was frustrated, pacing back and forth near the window.

"I tried to tell him, but he blew me off!" he told the person.

I suspected his conversation had something to do with my situation. He was probably talking about the department ignoring what he'd told them about Richard Lux's warning.

"I can't come back now! I'm... I'm busy, alright?"

The call lasted a few more minutes, and once I heard him hang up, I returned to the room as if I'd been preoccupied the whole time and hadn't heard a thing.

Joey was leaning against the wall beside the window, resting his weight on his forearm. I could see his muscles tense up beneath his shirt when our eyes met.

"Is everything alright?" I hesitantly asked.

No response.

I sat down at the small, flimsy desk in the corner and watched Joey, waiting to see if he'd say something. Nothing.

"Joey?" I tried again.

He pushed away from the wall with a hard press of his palm, turning on his heels with a pained expression that genuinely scared me. What had happened to make him so mad?

For a moment, he appeared to relax and I thought he was going to talk to me. His calm state was short-lived when he picked up the lamp from the desk I sat at and hurled it across the room, jerking the plug out of the wall and shattering the base. The sound of ceramic breaking made me jump. I had a sudden impulse to run from Joey. This was a side I hadn't yet seen of him – a side that reminded me of the man who'd destroyed three years of my life.

Joey looked to me with worry and anger in his eyes. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me or someone else. Then he suddenly broke down, falling to his knees on the floor in a mess. I'd never seen a police officer cry before. Tears welled up in his eyes and when he blinked, one steady stream trickled down his cheeks. He was obviously trying to suppress it, swallowing hard and attempting to regain his composure.

I didn't know what to do or say. I felt like no matter what I did, I'd probably end up making it worse. Hesitantly, I abandoned my spot at the desk. I cautiously approached him, sitting down beside him on the less-than-sanitary carpet. His hair hung in front of his eyes as he stared a hole through the floor. I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to comfort him. He breathed out deeply and sat back against the foot of the bed. We sat there in silence staring at a picture on the wall. It was a framed copy of a piece by Picasso. Neither of us said anything for the longest time.

"That woman... Lydia," Joey cleared his throat. "She's dead."

A jolt of horror shot through me. Tears instantly pricked my eyes and I covered my face.

"Why? What happened?" I forced myself to ask the dreaded question.

"Someone apparently asked her where we'd gone, and when she told them what I said about Miami, they knew it was bullshit and didn't believe her. They probably thought she was lying," Joey explained in a monotone voice. "So they... killed her."

I felt responsible. I knew it wasn't really my fault, but it wouldn't have happened if not for my current predicament. If only we'd used a different exit, or Joey had made me leave sooner, or I'd kept my mouth shut when she'd started talking to me. I was bullet-pointing in my head ways I could've prevented this.

Lydia was a sweet old woman. She damn sure didn't deserve this! She had a big, beautiful family – nine grandkids and a great-grandchild on the way. Because of me, because of my fucked up life, Lydia would never get to meet her great-grandchild. Because of my inability to rid my life of anguish, an innocent person was dead. It all boiled back to me. I may not have been the person who pulled the trigger, but she'd still be alive, had she not known me.

Again, I thought, I should've left Boston months ago.

"I feel like-"

"This is my fault," Joey interrupted, taking the words right out of my mouth.

I didn't understand. How could he feel responsible? He wasn't the one being chased. He wasn't the one they wanted dead.

I gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Why do you think that?"

A ragged breath left his lips as he leaned his head back against the mattress. "If I hadn't said anything about Miami, she'd still be alive, Jess."

I shook my head. He had this all wrong. He couldn't blame himself. This was my burden. Her blood was on my hands.

"You don't know that. That may not have even been the reason." I tried to reassure him, but my efforts were to no avail.

Joey stood up, kicking the bedframe so hard it made the picture above the bed shake.

"I dedicate my life to protecting and saving people! I bust my ass every day trying to make sure nobody gets hurt or dies on my watch! Now somebody's dead because I fucked up! I didn't do something right! I missed something somewhere!" he shouted, waving his arms animatedly and I expected hotel security to bang on our door any second. "If I had just-"

"There's nothing you could've done!" I hollered back, trying my best to get in his face, despite our height difference. "You're not there, Joey! You couldn't have stopped it! Just because you said something that she repeated doesn't mean shit."

My words started to become softer as his expression changed, surprised by my outburst.

"You can't control what other people do, Joey. They probably would've killed her no matter what she'd said."

I cringed at my verbiage, but it had to be said. He had to know that anyway. He was a cop. He probably saw murders on a weekly basis. Surely, he knew that there were multiple possibilities for a motive.

His frown softened as he stepped closer to me. "Jess, I'm just trying-"

"We got this far, didn't we?" I repeated his encouraging words from yesterday. "Because of you."

In a rush of passion, anger, and worry thrown together, I could hear my heart beating in my ears, pounding harder with every second that ticked by. We were staring each other down, our breathing ragged, our nerves on edge. We'd crossed the line into caring about each other's feelings, and maybe more than that. The boundaries of our professional relationship had been severed and we both knew it.

Joey's mouth captured mine in an urgent, passionate kiss. My heart leaped into my throat and I gripped his biceps to steady myself. His tongue invaded my mouth, wrestling with mine as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip. We were gasping for air, gasping for more of each other.

And just as quickly as it happened, it was over.