"I spent most of my holidays at the beach with my family, my dad grew up around the water, he was a talented surfer, so when we weren't at school, he would teach my brother and I how to stay on a board" Oliver told me while we sat at the table, side by side

"It's interesting, when you live in the city you just perceive everyone as being the same, city robots, but behind the lights, the bustle, real people are there" I pondered as I concentrated deeply on steadying my fingers

"There is no way you're going to make that" Oliver scoffed as he shook his head, watching me

I felt a smile widen as I pulled at the wooden block ever so slightly from the Jenga tower, gaping holes already making the structure completely unpredictable and unbalanced. I could see that the movements of my removal caused the others to wobble, unable to hold the weight, so when I successfully pulled the block without it crumbling, I could not contain my excitement. Silently cheering, I laughed and flashed around my Jenga piece, proud. There was no possible move he could make without knocking the tower down.

Oliver was shaking his head, knowing that it was over, yet he continued to study the column, searching for any potential hope.

"So how long have you worked robbery?" I asked, watching him, his eyes focused

He shrugged "Not long, about a year"

"How did you get into it? I mean, I don't see the correlation between your surfer upbringing and a cop" My head leaned on my hand, relaxed, interested in who Oliver Harding was

"My uncle, my dads brother is a retired cop, I just always remember seeing him in uniform and thinking how cool it was, and then when I was old enough, he would tell me all about the job and I just fell in love with what it was about" He explained, his eyes remaining narrow, in between me and the game

A quiet overtook us as Oliver found a block he found an inkling of confidence in. He carefully used his fingers to tap the edge outwards, testing the support it held for the ones above it. While watching the small pieces slightly react to touch, I found myself holding my breath. Oliver pulled ever so slowly in the beginning, and as it fell further out, he became more impatient. One of the most important skills to Jenga, was patience, you needed to know exactly where to nudge, where to pull, and when to throw your hands up in defeat.

Before the entirety of the block could be removed, the whole 54 piece stack of rectangles fell, crashing down, wood clashing as they scattered over the table.

I threw my hands up and laughed, securing my win.

Oliver was laughing too, shaking his head as he watched me "I demand a re-match" He pushed me gently on the shoulder

"Loser" I joked, laughing with genuine enjoyment for the moment, a moment I had rarely had in the past traumatic weeks. I was appreciative of the last hour, I felt relaxed, entertained, Oliver had been a quick and undeniable easy connection.

"Next time, I pick the game" He told me, turning his body in my direction "Battleships" He pointed "I will destroy you in Battleships"

Now I was the one shaking my head, finding humor in his demeanor, quickly distracted by the hold he held on my eyes, unwavering and strong. He was a handsome man, he was flirty and fun, he was someone I could have easily found at the bar, stealing my attention away with a single quick witted joke. But he wasn't, and when the back patio door unexpectedly opened, I snapped back to reality. Oliver was just like the other men I'd involved myself with, there was no long term hope for us, not only because of our situation, but because I could already feel the connection was based more on a physical desire more than a mental one.

The moment Dawson entered the room, our laughter had subsided. Oliver turned his body from me and cleared his throat, beginning to drag all the Jenga pieces back to the center of the table. We were like school kids being walked in on by their parents, even though we weren't doing anything, the tension could be felt within the air.

Dawson's eyes hesitated on Oliver for a moment, Oliver refusing to make eye contact, and then they moved to mine. I was attempting to decipher his hard gaze, but I couldn't. His jaw was clenching, his knuckles tightening over the hold he held on a small briefcase.

"How did the lineup go?" He peeled his eyes from mine, entering the kitchen where he sat his belongings on the bench

Oliver stood, adjusting his belt "Good, I'll take it straight down to the office and have it sent to the prosecutor"

"Good idea" Dawson deeply spoke back, the tone in his voice somewhat rude

Hesitating, Oliver picked his folder and keys up, and then he removed the pen from his pants pocket. Leaning down, he briefly sat the folder flat on the table beside me, scrawling down numbers with his pen before tearing the small piece off

"Once this is all over" He whispered hastily with a small smile angled in only my direction

I took the paper from him as quickly as he had written it, glancing down as he left the room, exiting to his car

Suddenly I felt awkward as I stared down at the phone number in front of me. Oliver had felt the tension I had, he had wanted what I had, but like me, he had realized the seriousness of the situation. Now was not the time.

Shoving the paper into my pocket, I began placing the Jenga pieces back into the box, a new tension and silence entering the room. I felt uncomfortable, like something needed to be said, but I had no idea what. I could feel the irritation from Dawson, yet I couldn't understand why.

Sliding the box back into the bookshelf where I had found it, I moved towards the stairs, needing to remove myself from the room, but as I took the first step, Dawson spoke

"Jasmine" This time, the tone was gentle

I paused, but slightly adjusted my head to acknowledge his voice

"Here" He had opened his briefcase and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the bench

Curious, I turned completely and moved towards it

"Take one a night, after dinner, they should help you sleep without the nightmares" He told me "But once you're allowed home, Vanessa has advised you speak with a professional if the nightmares continue, if not her, someone else that can help you work through it without the need for medication"

I nodded, grateful for the tablets in my hands. I needed a clear head, I needed to be sharp for whatever appearance I needed to make putting Trey and Wyatt away for what they had done to Tony and myself. Sleep was crucial to me, now more than ever.

"Thank you" I looked to Dawson who seemed to have eased a little "How did today go, did you find out anything else?"

He leaned his hands on the bench top with a loud sigh "The brothers are still being questioned at the station, they are denying any involvement, it won't be long until they lawyer up and then it all comes down to evidence"

"And how good is the evidence exactly?" I watched his face carefully, his eyes moving immediately down to the paperwork in front of himself, disheartening

"The prosecutor is working on warrants for their home, but at this stage, all we have is your ID on them" Again, his eyes met mine, and this time I could see that this was yet another blow. If I was the only evidence there was against the two brothers, that was the one and only reason they needed to get rid of me. Without me, they were free, they could not be held accountable for what they had done. My stomach twisted and I felt nausea rise.

"Jasmine" Dawson pulled my attention back "You'll be fine, okay?"

I nodded, feeling overwhelmingly unwell, so I did whatever I could to take the reality away, I changed the subject "What's the deal with you and Oliver?"

He grew rigid again, beginning to stack dirty dishes into the sink, turning the hot water on "What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes, pulling a bar stool out to sit "Don't play that game"

"Harding is.." Dawson began, thinking strategically for his next words "He's young, he doesn't take the job as serious as he should, we have very different views on how we do things"

I could have fought against his words, disagreeing, but Oliver was young, more inclined towards my age, and he had said the reason he'd wanted to do the job was because he had thought it was 'cool'. I shrugged "I think maybe with a job like yours, you might have to not take it so serious sometimes, given the situation of course, otherwise I think you'd go crazy with the things you see and do" It came out more as a question, defending Oliver

"Given the situation" Dawson repeated, switching the tap off "He has a reputation, like I said, we have different views on things"

"A reputation?" Of course I wanted more information

"Why are we talking about this again?" He raised an eyebrow, mixing the soapy water with a spoon

"He gave me his number" I informed him matter of fact, folding my arms over on the bench

His eyes lifted to mine with a sigh "The last thing I'm going to say of this conversation, of Harding, is put the number in the trash, you can do better than him"

Our eyes paused on one another for a moment as I absorbed his advice. I wanted to know why he was so against Harding, just because of a difference in how they worked. What else did he know about him that I didn't? What reputation did he have? There were a million questions I could have asked, there were a million reasons I could have ignored Dawson, instead, I remained quiet, breaking our gaze as I pulled the paper from my pocket.

Toying with the edges, I used my fingertips to tear it into small unreadable pieces. Dawson watched me, unsure of what to make of my move, almost surprised.

"If I'm going to trust you with my life, I'm going to trust you with my life" I told him, pushing the tiny pieces of paper into my palm, standing and placing them into the trash where he had advised me to put the digits.

By Midday, the weather had permitted me access to sunlight, clouds dispersing. I was leaned back on the lounge, my neck outstretched, eyes closed. My skin was warm, my body calm. I was excited about the prospect of being able to sleep comfortably during the nights again, I was looking forward to what I would feel like tomorrow morning when I woke refreshed and clear-minded. I hoped that the dark circles beneath my eyes would fade and the heaviness beneath my gaze would lighten. I needed a little bit of normalcy back, within myself.

When I heard the patio door open, my eyes flinched, only briefly looking to Dawson who emerged.

"Up for a drive?" He asked, perking my attention to him. The last drive we'd taken was to Tony's funeral. I'd always been told that leaving was dangerous, that the people that wanted me dead could be anywhere "There's a nice little cafe a few blocks away, we can have some lunch, you can get out for a bit" He shrugged casually holding his keys up

There was no denying that what he was selling, I was buying. I stood with a smile and eagerly followed him to the car, unbothered by my messy hair and lack of physical presentation. I understood the dangers of going out in public, but I was with Dawson and I trusted him, I needed to trust him. The dangers whilst with Dawson were completely outweighed by my hunger and need for public interaction. My brain had been half asleep since having been on my little retreat, a new environment and new faces would wake me up, give me something else to focus on rather than the still waters of the lake and cloud patterns above the holiday house.

A short drive later, we had pulled into a widening in the road, opening to a gravel parking lot lined with small businesses. Forestry protected the outskirts, thick with brush and dense with privacy. It was comforting to be within such a condensed town, I wondered how anyone in search of me would ever find me.

Blue strobe words were unlit, dull as they hung above the small cafe tucked into the far right corner of the parking lot. 'Carls', I wondered who Carl was as we entered the small brick structure, fresh air sweeping through the wide open windows. Round tables were spread within the middle of the L shaped cafe, wooden chairs seated around each of them. Along the windows were booths, blue leather well-worn. Few patrons were inside, an elderly man beside the front window sipping on coffee as he read over his newspaper, a teenage boy and girl in the middle of the room sharing a plate of curly fries, and a middle aged woman furthest to the left, glasses over her nose as she tapped away on a laptop in front of herself.

In tow of Dawson, we sat against a window to the right, trees close to the open glass, lightly moving with the flow of wind.

"I used to come here with my mother every second day while we were here, we'd sit in this very spot to have dinner" Dawson told me, handing me a menu

Holding the laminated menu, toying with the worn edges, I glanced down at the offerings. Generously priced, there were options for all day breakfast, drinks, milkshakes, lunch and small meals. I hadn't been overly hungry, Oliver having made me his signature banana pancakes for breakfast, stacking my plate with syrup and fruit.

"What did you order?" I mused, my eyes down yet noticing Dawson was not looking over the menu

"We'd share a Margherita Pizza"

"That's cute" I mumbled with a small smile, imagining it.