Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Asia
“Do you have everything you need?”
The snick of the teeth of the zipper closing was my response.
It was definitive, commanding.
A perfect reflection of Jack at this moment.
“Levi offered me weapons,” he said, hoisting the backpack onto one shoulder.
It was black, sturdy, but looked comically small on Jack’s broad shoulders. And it held all of his worldly possessions, which apparently consisted of a raincoat, three cans of green beans, and a pair of socks that he didn’t know I put in there.
“Did you take them?” I asked, following him with my gaze as he marched around the kitchen.
“No,” he said.
“At least take a handgun. He has several,” I said.
“You’ll need them here.”
“What about coffee?” I asked. My teeth were gritted, and I was on edge. For the third time, I wiped the already clean kitchen counter.
“Three teaspoons will be fine. Doesn’t have to be indulgent. Can swish it down with some water, get the same effect,” he said.
“How revolting, Jackson,” I said, my voice not wavering.
He shrugged, emphasizing how tiny the backpack looked.
“Desperate times.”
He stopped at the kitchen door, his frame filling it. It wasn’t dawn yet, but I saw the first rumblings of the sun crossing the sky.
In minutes, this man, the one who saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving, would be gone.
I turned too abruptly, again swiping the counter.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
Jack stared at me a moment, then nodded.
I walked behind him, trying to interpret what that expression meant.
I bet he wondered why I hadn’t said something else.
Take care of yourself.
I need you.
I love you.
But I hadn’t—and wouldn’t.
Jack made his choice.
Nothing I said would change his mind.
I wouldn’t beg, either.
Not ever.
No matter how much I wanted to.
My stomach shifted, punching into my diaphragm like it wanted to crawl its way out.
What would my words matter anyway?
Jack’s cum was still drying on my thighs.
That meant nothing to him. My words wouldn’t, either.
“Do you really have to go, Jack?”
Miles met him on the front porch, his rifle in his hands, looking cartoonishly big—a contrast to Jack’s cartoonishly small backpack.
I looked at Miles, but had to look away. His big brown eyes, the confusion in them. The sadness. The fear. They were all there, making Miles look much younger than his fifteen years.
But that wasn’t the thing that made me look away.
It was the question in those eyes—the why.
I wrapped my arms around my body for want of anything else to do with them. Maybe the physical movement would keep my tongue in place.
“Gotta do what I gotta do, kid,” Jack said.
“But what about that sheriff?” Miles said.
Jack clapped Miles on the shoulder, but then looked at me. Kept his gaze steady until I met his eyes.
“If it comes to that, you’ll kill him.”
He held my gaze a moment longer, then slapped Miles on the shoulder again.
“Take care of your sister,” he said.
The boy nodded, his unruly brown curls flapping.
“I remember everything you taught me,” the boy said.
“I know, kid,” Jack said.
It was as much emotion as I had seen from him, even when he was inside me. And my heart lurched, breaking all over again—not for me, but Miles. He’d lost so much. But Jack couldn’t see that, and I couldn’t convince him.
Uncle Levi was sitting next to Miles, keeping watch. Lourdes told him he needed his rest, but he just poo-pooed her.
“Wait a second,” Uncle Levi said.
He stood and walked toward Jack, his steps almost birdlike in their tentativeness.
I remembered when Uncle Levi had strode—firm, heel to toe, heel to toe.
Now, the man shuffling toward Jack lacked that grace, that spirit.
I glanced at Jack, noticing he stared directly at me, refusing to look at Uncle Levi, either.
“I think you leaving here is foolishness,” Uncle Levi said.
He paused, waiting for Jack, who said nothing.
“But your choice. But you got my girl here to me, and that means I’m going to owe you forever.”
Uncle Levi lifted his arm, then met Jack’s gaze.
“So take the fucking gun, son,” Uncle Levi said.
I inhaled sharply.
I never heard Uncle Levi swear. But when I looked at him now, I saw that he was serious, that he meant every word.
His shoulders stooped, were thinner than they should have been.
Even his little gut had started to deflate.
Those eyes—the same ones that had burned fiercely when I arrived, the ones that burned with sincerity when he told me that he loved me and that Aunt Kathleen had been proud to call me daughter.
No, the look in his eyes now was the look of a man who had faced down every challenge and walked through them. Like a man who was ready to face one more if it came to that.
“You need it here. Take care, sir.”
Uncle Levi clapped Jack on the shoulder, giving him as tight a squeeze as he could muster, and it wasn’t lost on me how similar that was to Jack’s own affection with Miles.
I shifted, swiping carelessly at my hair, but then finally looked away.
“Day’s going. I better get a move on,” Jack said.
He stepped off the porch, his strides confident, smooth—so Jack.
I watched as he walked, getting smaller as the sun got brighter.
Waited for him to look back.
He didn’t.