Chapter 7 #3
Jack’s body changed when he locked eyes with Jerry’s hand on my shoulder. His smile tipped up into a leering smirk.
“We interrupting somethin’, boys? You blessin’ our friend here or playin’ with his meat?”
Subtle jabs…Asshole.
Jerry jerked away from me with a quiet growl and busied himself with the cutlets. His jaw tightened behind the counter while his shoulders squared. His voice, when he spoke, stayed even despite the irritation I knew he felt.
“Jack,” he said. “Mornin’, Miranda. There are some cookies by the coffee cups, Ronan.”
Jack grinned wider while the boy walked carefully to the treats without a word.
“Jerry and the happy Father. What a gift today was given, ain’t that right, Miranda?” He didn’t let go of her, and she winced when he squeezed tighter.
Miranda’s wrist was already pink. I glanced back at Jerry. His eyes flicked to it, then to the boy, and then back to Jack.
“What can I get you, Jack? Wouldn’t want to keep you from your morning.” Jerry said.
Jack leaned in closer to Miranda, possessive and clearly performative. “Same as always. Pound of ground. Nice thick juicy cuts.”
Miranda flinched when he smacked her ass while his other hand linked around her neck. It was a correction, a reminder to stay small.
Something hot and infrared stirred in my chest.
I pushed my chair back slowly and stood. I didn’t make any sudden movements. I didn’t want to cause drama for her. This wasn’t about posturing. It was presence.
“Good morning, Miranda. Did you paint your nails today? The color suits you.” I said gently.
Her eyes lifted for half a second, just enough to meet mine. There was recognition there and something else swimming in the deep pools.
Fear, yes.
But also…hope.
That small and dangerous emotion that could break a human being.
Jack noticed it too and squeezed her harder, forcing her head back to the floor.
His smile sharpened when he met my gaze. “She doesn’t talk much,” he said. “Don’t like strangers bothering her. Do you, sweetheart?”
Does Jack not know that Miranda comes to confession every week?
Jerry turned then, setting the knife down with deliberate care.
“Let go of her, Jack,” he said quietly. “Not in my shop. I’ll give your department a call if I need to.”
The shop went still.
Jack laughed, but it was thin. “What? I own the department, you fool. I own the whole goddamn town.”
“You heard me,” Jerry said. “You’re hurting Miranda. Let her go.”
Jack scoffed. “Mind your business, you washed-up soldier.”
Jerry stepped closer despite the insult, and I followed suit.
Not threatening.
Not yet.
Just two men who had weathered wars stronger than Jack St. Claire. His bark was loud, but his bite, well, he knew exactly what we were capable of.
Elias had gone silent, while Maria crawled into his lap without understanding why, her small hands clutching his shirt in her confusion.
“Daddy mad?”
“Shh, sissy!”
The boy by the door, Ronan stared harder now, his eyes wide, memorizing what safety looked like in case he ever found it again. He didn’t respond to fear the way Maria and Elias had. Ronan lived in Jack’s world. He knew how to survive it.
Jack’s grip finally loosened.
Just a little.
Miranda’s shoulders sagged like she’d been holding herself upright by sheer willpower, and she reached her arms out. “Come on, sweet boy.”
Her son walked back and curled into her arms.
Jerry met my eyes for half a second.
We were brothers, not by blood but by something more and in all the ways that mattered.
“I’ll get your order finished,” Jerry said calmly, his bright smile turning toward the mother and her son. “Miranda, you and the boy can hang with us for a bit. There’s water in the back, and I am sure Dawn would love to know what that nail polish color is.”
Jack hesitated. Calculating his tactics, he was stalled by the control slipping free.
He let go of her entirely.
Miranda didn’t move at first, her conditioning running too deep, but then she took a step back. Then another, and the boy followed her like a shadow, his eyes never leaving Elias and Maria.
Jerry watched them go, then turned back to Jack, his voice lower than usual.
“Next time you come in here looking for my business,” he said. “You make plans to have your lovely family join mine for a few days. Your entering my premises is an agreement to that. Miranda and Ronan will enjoy my place for a bit.”
Jack sneered, but there was fear under it.
“I’ll remember that, Cross.”
“So will I, St. Claire,” Jerry replied.
When Jack finally left, leaving Miranda and Ronan safe for the time being, the bell rang again.
The shop felt like it exhaled along with us.
Jerry leaned against the counter, rubbing a hand over his face, and I stepped beside him, close enough that our shoulders touched.
“You okay, Soldier?” I said.
He nodded once, but then shook his head. “No. Dawn keeps telling me I can’t save everyone, but fuck me if I don’t die trying.”
I understood that, too.
Neither of us spoke as Miranda and the children laughed softly in the back. It was nice seeing them at peace, but I hoped this didn’t yield a bigger punishment for them when Jack had them back in his grip.
Jerry was a safe space for so many.
This…this was why Jerry was my brother.
Because he saw suffering, and yet, unlike everyone else, he didn’t look away just to keep his own peace.
He loved fiercely and quietly to the people everyone else thought were hopeless.
Because when I was at my worst, he had stood between me and the dark world that tried to drag me under.
His mentality was: if society said, ‘You can’t.’ He said, ‘Watch me.’
The man would die for me.
And I would do the same for him.