Chapter Twenty
Jinnie
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I HESITATE, MY CHEEKS still burning from the scene I just caused. But Jack’s hand is warm in mine, his eyes telling me he did care about me. “Come on,” he says again, softer this time. “You don’t have to stay long. Just come in with me. Let me finish this set, and then we’ll leave.”
I bite my lip, torn between my pride and the ache in my chest that just wants to be near him. “Fine,” I mutter finally. “But if anyone gives me a look, I’m out.”
He grins, relief flashing across his face. “Deal.”
He leads me back inside, my hand tight in his. The bar is still buzzing, the crowd oblivious to the drama that just unfolded outside. Jack heads straight for the stage, pulling me along with him until we’re standing just off to the side, out of the direct spotlight.
“Stay here,” he says, squeezing my hand before letting go. “You’ll see me better from this angle anyway.”
“Okay.”
I watch him climb back upstairs. The crowd erupts into cheers as he grabs his guitar and gives them that crooked grin of his.
“All right,” he says into the mic. “I think it’s time for something a little different.” He glances at me briefly before strumming the opening chords of the song. The crowd quiets almost immediately.
It’s my song. He starts to sing, his gaze finding mine. There are women surround the stage, but he’s looking at me. My heart soars as he sings the lyrics I know so well.
I stand there and watch him. Yes, he’s playing to the crowd. I have to accept that. It’s what he does. I just have to trust that he’s going to be faithful to me.
After his set, he doesn’t stick around to give an encore. He grabs his guitar, then my hand, and once again we’re going out the back door.
“Do you need to stay and help Aggie?” I ask.
“Nah, she can handle it.”
“My place?” I ask.
“Yes. I think we need to talk.”
I nod. “Yeah, we do.”
He follows me to my place. It’s a little strange at first. Like neither of us really knows what to say. I’m embarrassed by my blow-up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. I just... I saw her looking at you, and it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like maybe you’d realize I’m not the kind of girl who belongs in that world.”
Jack steps closer, his hand reaching for mine. “Jinnie, you are enough. You’re more than enough. That world—the bars, the stage, the crowds—it’s not who I am. It’s what I do. But you? You’re who I come home to. Or want to, anyway.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “But what if that changes? What if you get bigger gigs, or someone offers you a record deal, and suddenly you’re on the road all the time? What happens to us then?”
He sighs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know I don’t want to lose you over something that hasn’t even happened yet. We can figure it out as we go. Isn’t that what people do?”
“People who are good at this stuff, maybe,” I mutter. “But I’m not exactly great at relationships.”
“Neither am I,” he says with a small smile. “But we’re here, aren’t we? Trying?”
He leads me to the small couch. We sit down with him pulling me close.
“I think we’ve both been dealing with our own shit the last couple of weeks,” he says. “We’re both putting in long hours and I know we haven’t talked much.”
“No, we haven’t,” I agree. “And I’m sorry. How have things been with you? Have you talked to your family much?”
He scoffs. “I talked to my brothers. Definitely not my dad. Once was enough.”
“Tell me about them,” I say softly. “You know all about me and I really don’t know anything about you.”
“There’s not much to say.” He shrugs.
“Tell me about your father. Did you guys ever get along?”
“He wasn’t always bad. I mean, I guess that depends on how you define bad. He was strict. He really hates this music thing.”
I turn toward him, tucking my leg under me. I don’t say anything yet. I can tell he’s not done.
“When I started playing music, he said it was a phase. Said it was a waste of time. He told me real men don’t sit around strumming guitars, they work hard, they build something. It felt like everyone in town agreed with him. Small town, small minds. If you don’t fit their mold, you’re weird. Weak. A disappointment.”
I feel my heart crack for him. I run my hand over the back of his head, my fingers trailing over his neck.
“And then there was the thing with my first performance,” he continues. “School talent show. I was fourteen. I thought I killed it. I was so proud. But afterward, my dad didn’t say anything. Just gave me this look like I’d embarrassed him. Then the rumors started. Dumb crap like I was doing it to get attention. Like liking music made me less of a man. The kids at school made fun of the way I moved on stage. The way I sang. Everything.”
“Jack...” I whisper.
“I stopped playing in public for years after that. I told myself I didn’t care, but I did. I cared a lot. And the worst part is, even now, when I get on stage, a little part of me still hears their voices. Still wonders if they’re watching and laughing.”
There’s a lump forming in my throat. I squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry they made you feel like that. But, Jack, you’re so damn talented. And brave. You’re doing what you love, even after all that. That matters.”
He looks at me. “I want to believe that. I really do. But part of me still wants to shove it in their faces. To prove I made it. To show them I wasn’t the joke they thought I was.”
I smile. “I get that. And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that, if it gives you the fire to keep going. But I hope someday you make music just because you love it. Because it makes you feel alive. Not to prove anything. Just because it’s yours.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then his hand slides up to cradle my cheek.
“You always say the exact thing I need to hear,” he murmurs.
I smile, a little shy now under his gaze. “That’s because I mean it.”
And then he’s kissing me.
Soft at first. Slow. Like he’s savoring it. Like he needs it. It’s been over a week since we’ve been together. I thought I was ravenous for him, but this is different. This is special.
I melt into him, threading my fingers through his hair. The heat between us builds quickly. I can’t help but think how different it feels from every time before.
Because this isn’t just about attraction. It’s not just about the fire or the need.
It’s about trust. It’s about connection. It’s about something so much more. And so real.
“My bed,” I murmur against his lips. “This couch is too small.”
He laughs softly, pulling away just enough to look down at me. “Always so direct, Jinnie.”
“Not always,” I tease, running my hands over his chest. It’s been too long since I felt this skin under my fingertips.
“Not fair,” he breathes out before lowering his head to kiss me again.
We walk the short distance to my bed. His lips trace my jawline, my neck, before he meets my eyes once more. He pulls me closer, his body against mine as we sink onto the bed together.
We don’t need to hurry; there’s no one waiting for us and nowhere to be. It feels like we have all the time in the world.
My breath hitches when he pulls my blouse off and tosses it aside. I can feel his warm breath fanning across my collarbone before he gently nibbles on it—gently enough to make me shiver but not leave a mark. He smirks at my reaction before moving lower still, kissing his way down toward my stomach until he reaches my bra clasped between us. He undoes that too with ease, his lips lingering on each loop before parting them entirely and exposing my breasts to cool air for a moment before his mouth finds one, then the other, teasing and tasting until I’m arching into him, my hands fisting in his hair. His name escapes my lips in a breathy whisper.
He pulls back just enough to tug off his shirt. I take the opportunity to run my hands over the defined planes of his chest and abs. He’s all hard muscle and smooth skin. I can’t resist leaning in to kiss along his collarbone, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my lips.
“Jinnie,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need as he reaches for the button of my jeans. I lift my hips to help him slide them off, along with my underwear, leaving me bare before him.
Then he’s kissing me again, deep and demanding, as he fumbles with the button of his own jeans. I help him as best I can with trembling fingers until we’re both finally skin against skin. The heat between us is almost unbearable, but I want more. I need more.
“Please,” I whisper against his lips, and he understands without me having to say more.
He shifts above me, positioning himself at my entrance, and then he’s slowly pushing inside. My breath catches as I feel him stretching me, filling me completely.
It’s slow. Intense. Honest.
Afterward, when we’re tangled up in each other, hearts still racing, he kisses my shoulder. “I’ve never felt this safe before.”
I close my eyes, emotions swelling in my chest. “Me neither.”
The sun is barely up when I wake. Jack’s still asleep, one arm flung over my waist, his face buried in the pillow. I lay there for a bit, tracing little shapes on his shoulder with my fingertip.
Everything feels different now. Not just between us, but inside me.
I’m not the same girl who used to avoid hard conversations or let other people make choices for her. I’m stronger. More certain. He makes me braver just by being himself.
Eventually, we get up, make coffee, and sit at my little table. It feels intimate and right. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
“I think we should tell Aggie,” I say after a sip.
Jack raises an eyebrow. “About last night?”
I snort. “No. About the trial.”
“Ah.”
“She’s smart. And she’s been suspicious of Sam from the beginning. She deserves to know the truth. And I think she’d want to help. I hate keeping this secret. It’s destroying me.”
Jack nods slowly. “I think it’s a very good idea. Aggie will keep your secret.”
We get dressed and head over in Jack’s truck. I’m nervous. Anxious. But this moment has been a long time coming.
Aggie is sitting at the table, drinking her coffee and flipping through a magazine when we walk in.
She looks up and there’s a hint of a smile. “You two look like you just committed a crime and came to confess.”
Jack snorts.
I smile nervously. “Can we talk?”
“Have a seat.”
We settle at her kitchen table. I’m nervous as hell. I take a deep breath before launching into it. The whole story, start to finish. I don’t leave anything out. Not the Vegas wedding. Not the annulment petition. The upcoming trial. All of it.
Aggie listens in silence, jaw set, eyes flashing with anger.
“I knew he was trouble the moment he called me ‘sweetheart.’ That slimy little twit.”
Jack grins.
Aggie points a finger at me. “You listen to me, Jinnie. You were young, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He’s a scumbag.”
“Thank you.”
“If you want me to testify, I will. I’ll go in there and tell the judge exactly what I saw. And exactly what I think of that little parasite.”
Relief floods me. “Thank you. I’ll tell my lawyer. And for now, can you not tell my mom and dad? I really don’t want them worrying about this stuff.”
“I’ll keep it for now, but you need to tell them,” she says softly.
“I know. I will.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Jack jokes.
“Honey, you haven’t seen my bad side yet,” Aggie says with a wink.