Chapter 19 Clara
J ACK’S WATCHING D IE H ARD ON the TV in the living room and I’m smiling into the dark like a weirdo knowing I can call him a hypocrite for watching what he believes to be a Christmas film in November.
Maybe we can take turns handcuffing each other.
The room is like a freezer that no amount of blankets can save me from but the idea heats me up, just a little.
I spent the first twenty minutes of “going to bed” crying in the bathroom on FaceTime to Honor.
If Jack could hear me, he was polite enough to pretend he couldn’t.
When I eventually emerged, he was downstairs letting Elf use the bathroom.
I planned to sleep off the miserable feeling that comes with realizing that the people you trust are liars and it’s a very real possibility that the company you’ve dedicated your life to is actually bad.
Unfortunately for me, my brain doesn’t want to shut off when my nose is going numb from the cold.
It doesn’t help that all I have with me is silk pajamas that do nothing to keep me warm.
I finally admit defeat and fumble toward the door in the dark.
Jack and Elf are on the couch illuminated by the glow of the TV.
Jack’s feet are resting on the coffee table. Elf is sprawled on his weathered couch.
“Hey,” Jack says warily. “How you doing in there?”
“Can I hang out with you guys? I don’t want to report you to the police for watching what you think is a Christmas movie in November, so I may as well be an accomplice to the crime.
” Jack’s mouth opens immediately but I hold up a hand stopping him.
“If you keep going you’ll have to either admit it’s not a Christmas movie or admit it’s not illegal to watch Christmas movies in November. ”
“Take a seat.” He pats the empty space next to him. His eyebrows pinch together the closer I get to him. “Are you okay? Your nose is bright red.”
“I think the heating in my room is broken.” I hold out my hands for him to feel how cold my fingers are.
He gently squeezes them and looks horrified.
Jack’s on his feet before I can tell him it isn’t a big deal.
Next thing I know I’m being pushed down onto the couch and there’s a huge knitted blanket being wrapped around me and another fluffier one being thrown across my lap.
“Thank you,” I say, but he’s already charging toward my room.
I pause the movie to listen to him call the radiator useless and other derogatory names. Elf is snoring loudly. Jack eventually emerges, shutting the door behind him. “You should’ve told me you were cold.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I admit.
“You love bothering me,” he says playfully.
He crouches in front of where I’m sitting on the couch, his hands clasped together, paired with a worried look on his face.
I want to run my hand over his jaw and tell him it’ll be okay, but I think it’s me being upset that’s upsetting him.
Plus, I think I might have used my personal-contact pass already tonight when I turned into a blubbering mess on his chest.
I try to force a smile. “That’s true. I like it when you get frustrated and pout.”
The corner of his mouth creeps up. “I know you’re lying; I don’t even know how to pout. Do you want me to make hot cocoa?”
I nod. “That’d be nice.”
“Whipped cream?” I nod again. “You got it.”
I scoot to the end of the couch and rest my forearms on the arm.
The storm has started to calm, the frantic blizzard slowing into a soft curtain of white.
It’s soothing to watch something so peaceful.
“I feel like I’m in a snow globe,” I say to Jack when he approaches me with a mug piled high with whipped cream.
“Stand up,” he says, putting the drinks on the windowsill.
I move out of his way as he drags the coffee table and maneuvers the couch in front of the window looking out onto Main Street. I’m fighting to keep all the blankets on me in some capacity but lose one when Elf lies down on top of it. “There you go.”
Jack switches his movie to the Christmas Jazz playlist. A jazz instrumental of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” fills the room. It feels cozy and peaceful. “Hey, I don’t think I’ve heard your cell phone ring tonight. Did the snow magically solve all the problems in Fraser Falls?”
He shakes his head as he lifts the drinks from the windowsill and sits. “I’ve had a few texts but nothing urgent. People wouldn’t drag me out in this weather if it wasn’t urgent. Any other weather is fair game.”
“Or the cell tower fell down,” I offer.
“Or that.”
I carefully lower myself next to him, tucking my feet under the back of my thigh and accepting my drink. He lets me take one sip before he’s covering me in blankets again. “Does my skin offend you or something? Why are you trying to smother me under additional layers?”
Jack lets out a precarious laugh. “Your skin doesn’t offend me, no. But you almost froze earlier out of politeness and you’re hardly wearing anything so I’m stepping in.”
“I’m not hardly wearing anything ! These pajamas are from a boutique in Paris.”
“I don’t care about your Texas pajamas, Clara. I want you warm and not getting sick. Should I turn the temperature up?”
I raise an eyebrow, for multiple reasons. “Only if you’re trying to cook me. Everything is good, Jack. Here, share so I don’t feel like a human blanket basket.”
I spread the fluffy one across both of our legs and attempt to put the heavier knit one across his shoulders too. All without tipping my drink onto him. “You happy now?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Yep.”
“Are you actually? I didn’t mean to upset you earlier, Clara. I really didn’t.”
“Oh, that? No, that still totally sucks. But I’m happy in this pretend snow globe with you.”
Jack gives me a sympathetic look, one that makes me want to cry again. “You need another hug?”
I pinch my thumb and forefinger together. “Little bit.”
We’re sitting so close that he could argue we’re already cuddling and I wouldn’t have much defense.
But he raises his arm anyway and lets me curl under it.
His fingers stroke my arm lazily, occasionally trailing up to my shoulder and making my heart hitch before journeying back down.
His chin rests on top of my head and I try my hardest to listen to his every heartbeat. “Better?” he murmurs gently.
“Yeah, you’re pretty good at fixing problems. Don’t know if anyone’s ever mentioned it… except bedroom radiators, obviously,” I mumble, squirming when his fingers tickle my waist.
“I admit, I gotta step up my heating game, but it’s complicated. It could be worse. You could be at Tommy’s place; he keeps his A/C on all year round. The man is like the Human Torch.”
“You’re not exactly Iceman yourself.”
“Hey, you’d be grateful if we ever went camping in shitty weather.”
I snort. “Okay, Jacob Black. You know, I’ve actually never been camping before.”
“You’re joking.” Jack twists to get a better look at my face. Maybe to judge if I’m trying to play an elaborate prank on him… about camping. “You’re not joking?”
“Why would I joke about something as apparently sacred to you as camping? Do I look like an outdoorsy girl to you?” It’s funnier that Jack’s sudden movement has disrupted our blankets so he’s reminded that I picked out silk shorts and a cami to wear in this weather.
His eyes skim over my thighs where my shorts sit high lazily; I watch him swallow and rub at the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t survive the night.”
“I think you’re capable of anything you put your mind to, Clara.
Indoor, outdoor, upside down. Even in your Kentucky pajamas.
” I try to hit him lightly, but he catches my hand and tugs me back under his arm.
I fit too easily and settle too quickly.
“And you tried to tell me violence isn’t a theme of Christmas.
Let’s watch your snow globe and stop fighting. ”
I don’t want to laugh at him but I can’t help it. “I’m impressed with your Paris, USA, knowledge.”
He buries his face into my hair as he laughs too. “Thank you.”
The soft soothing jazz continues to play from the TV while we watch the snow fall and drink our hot cocoas. I’m not sure at what point I stopped needing comfort and started wanting to sit here intertwined with Jack.
“You can take my bed tonight,” he says quietly. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I can cope with sleeping in a cold room for one night, Jack. You have an unusual number of blankets for a man. You can just layer them on top of me.”
“Let me just check the radiator again.” He’s gentle as he frees himself from the cocoon we’ve turned ourselves into. I immediately miss his warmth. “Maybe there’s something I can do.”
I follow him to my room and stand in the doorway, head and shoulder leaning against the white wooden frame. There’s a stark contrast between this room and every other room. “Stick my duvet in the bathtub. I’ll sleep in there.”
“The fuck you will. Grab your pillows,” he says, pulling the duvet off the bed and bundling it up in his arms.
“Hey! Where are you going with that?” I protest as he tries to nudge past me. I take a step closer instead, pushing him back into the room.
“You’re sleeping in my room where there’s heat. I’ll sleep on the couch… where there’s also heat. You can’t sleep in there.”
“But it’s fine. You don’t have to sl—”
“Out, Clara,” he says firmly. “Now.”
“Or what? You’re gonna throw me over your shoulder and carry me out?” I ask.
He grins. “Sure. That’s definitely easier than arguing with you.”
He takes one purposeful step toward me and my hands shoot up defensively. There’s a playfulness in his eyes that I’m not used to that I fear I’ll miss as soon as it’s gone. “Okay, I concede, caveman.”
“Even easier.”
“But I’m sleeping on the couch. I can’t take your bed off you and—Jack!” I cling to his neck as he scoops me up on top of the duvet already draped over his arms. It’s the most comfortable I’ve ever been while being carried against my will. “You’re a cheat.”
I poke my finger into his cheek to try to kill the smile there. He looks too pleased with himself. He’s careful as he maneuvers me through the doorway, feet first.
I wonder if I’m more or less easy to move than a table.
Jack drops me onto the mattress; the duvet underneath cushions the fall as the mattress springs creak.
He seizes my moment of distractedness to grab his pillows and take them out to the living room.
He’s already moved the couch away from the window and back to its regular spot by the time I get out there.
He looks at me, eyebrows pinched together. “What’s your problem? Get in there and go to sleep.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “There’s only one situation where I’ll listen to a man tell me to get in his bed, Jack. To sleep alone isn’t one of them. I’m taking the couch.”
He crosses the room toward me, stopping only inches away. There’s something hot stirring in me at the idea of Jack finding out what that one situation is. His glare pierces me; my eyes flick to his lips. There suddenly isn’t enough oxygen in the room as I drop my hands to let them hang.
Jack’s fingers brush my jawline gently until he reaches my ear, tucking my hair away. Goose bumps spread across my skin and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. “You’re a pain in my ass. You know that?”
I nod slowly. “You’re one to talk.”
His fingers travel down my neck and along my shoulder until he finds the skin his fingers spent the night traveling. “I’m taking the couch, Clara.”
I don’t say anything as he passes me to head back into his bedroom. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to find the exact moment I found myself losing it over Jack Kelly. He walks past me with his duvet and throws it on the couch with his pillows.
“Night,” he yells as I gracefully walk (read: stomp) toward his bedroom. I get the pillows and duvet he’s sweetly straightened on the bed and bundle them into my arms.
Jack’s in the kitchen by the sink when I walk out of his room. I quickly lie down on Elf’s couch and tuck a pillow under my head. He stops at the foot of the couch and sighs.
It’s the feeling of victory that I might be getting slightly addicted to. But it’s short-lived when he gets under his duvet on the other couch.
I prop myself up on my elbow. “What’re you doing?”
“I told you, I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“But your room is empty,” I say, gesturing to the open door and bed.
“I’m aware of that,” he says calmly.
“Are we having a sleepover?”
“No.”
“Can we build a fort?”
“No.”
He sits up to look across to me when I go quiet. I’m doing an exaggerated pout. “Can I tell people we built a fort?”
He shakes his head. “No. Go to sleep.”
“I don’t think you know how sleepovers work, Jack.”
He lies down and I roll onto my back. “There’s only one situation where I’ll let a woman keep me awake all night, Clara. To build forts isn’t one of them. Good night.”
I sigh through the butterflies. “Night.”