3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Emma
I pull the warm blankets up to my chest, twisting in the soft sheets. My eyes crack open and I’m staring straight out an enormous window at a thick forest. Rows and rows of trees are heavy with dew, sunlight only just hitting the tops of their branches.
My legs stretch out and I moan into the soft pillow. A rich scent fills my lungs, a mix of wood smoke and mint.
It’s Jack.
A warm flutter fills my belly, and I can’t stop smiling.
I think about the roughness of Jack’s beard, his whiskers scratching against my cheek when he cuddled me. Those big, thick arms, like the massive branches I’m staring at outside.
He’s perfectly solid, and I adore the way his hair is starting to streak with silver at the edges. He wears a scowl, but I’m pretty sure I can see behind the frown. The way he’s taken me in without a second thought – there’s a man in there who has a big heart.
After refreshing in the shower, I made damn sure the rifle Jack pointed in my face was safely tucked back where it belonged. He told me he was sorry, but I kind of liked that he was prepared to defend his cabin.
Jack set me up in his bedroom, insisting that he would take the sofa. While I was washing, he placed a glass of water on the table, setting it beside the photograph of me and my parents. It was a nice touch, one that made me feel instantly at home.
He left my lamp on all night, and it’s still glowing now.
I felt terrible, kicking a grown man out of his bed, especially when he was looking at me the way he was.
I can’t explain it. But whenever I look at Jack, something ignites inside of me. An urgent heat swells in my heart, then races directly between my legs. My body is screaming out for Jack to meet my needs, but I don’t know if he wants me like that.
Just as the sun starts to glisten across the wet grass outside, I sit up in bed and take a look around Jack’s bedroom. It’s so damn adorable. Rich, dark wood panels the walls, giving the room a warm feeling. There is a plush rug laid out at the edge of the bed, matching the rustic furniture scattered around.
It feels cosy and warm. It feels like home.
I can’t help but smile as I throw the blankets back. It’s a nice feeling waking up and feeling safe. I’m not scared to walk out my door today. I won’t be looking over my shoulder. My skin won’t crawl when I creep up the staircase at my apartment building.
Would I leave the city behind to live in isolation like this?
You bet I would.
I move over to the dresser and catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above. I see a new stack of clothes on the edge of the bed. Judging by the colorful mix of pinks, blues and purples, they look like they might be for me, but I’m not sure how they got there.
I’m wearing one of Jack’s old t-shirts and I love the way it hangs off my shoulders. My cheeks are relaxed, my lips curved in a smile.
The clothes on the bed would be a more suitable outfit for a day in the wilderness and I start looking through them. There is a mix of brand new shirts, with the tags still attached, to worn out looking clothes that are clearly well-loved second-hand purchases.
Did Jack get these for me? Why would he have a bunch of women’s clothes laying around his cabin?
My gaze drifts along the top of the old oak dresser. There’s a framed photo in the corner, the glass dusty like it hasn’t been picked up in years. It’s a photo of a younger version of Jack, dressed in his Navy SEAL uniform.
I swallow and hold my breath.
He’s gorgeous.
His dark brown eyes are rich with intensity, staring out with a youthful determination and pride. He looks happy, casually leaning against a post with a cigarette in his hand. It’s a different expression to the grumpy scowl I met yesterday.
My body floods with warmth. Jack with a scowl is amazing, but Jack with a smile on his face? Wow .
Next to the photograph is a small wooden box, almost an exact replica of the one I snatched from my shelf back home. This one has a delicate brass latch on the front, and it catches my eye as it glints in the sunlight that’s starting to fill the room. I open the latch and suddenly feel like I’ve opened the door to another world.
“Wow,” I gasp, my fingers carefully lifting a bundle of old letters out of the box.
They’re wrapped together with a piece of weathered string, the paper looking well-thumbed and worn on the edges. I can only imagine the stories encased within, but I set them aside and pick up a pocket watch, silver with ‘J.C.’ engraved on its surface.
I stare at the watch in awe. It’s beautiful and I can only start to imagine the tales behind all of the treasures Jack has. I’m staying with a man of mystery. I know nothing about him aside from him being my father’s best friend. Hidden behind the layers of rugged strength and his gruff exterior, are stories, a life lived to levels I’ll never understand.
My heart feels like it’s about to explode.
Jack was a warrior.
Just like my dad. He was a warrior alongside my dad. And that’s something I love. So damn much.
I feel my body tighten with emotion.
There’s so much I want to know. I want to hear the stories of my father, learn about the way he was. I want to know about Jack, and why he was best friends with him.
There’s so much to unpack. But somehow, I get the feeling Jack has built a wall that will be hard to break down. Jack is a man who’s clearly decided he wants to live out his days as a recluse. Isolated and alone.
I slide the pocket watch back in the box and close the lid gently. I go to move to the door, but my eyes catch on one last object, hidden in the corner.
A thick photo album, dark brown with a golden emblem embossed on the cover is hidden behind a stack of clothes. I clutch it without thinking, tucking it under my arm as I head out towards the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I chime happily.
Jack is at the stove, a spatula in his hand as he flips eggs. He’s still wearing the same jeans as yesterday, but he’s got a different checkered shirt on, the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. His hair is pulled back in a messy bunch, his beard thicker than it was last night.
“Morning,” he grunts, glancing over his shoulder. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Um,” I stutter.
I settle in the chair at the counter, dodging his smoldering eyes. I place the photo album to one side and think about the last time I had a cooked breakfast.
“I don’t actually know.”
He turns around and hits me with a frown. “What? Everyone has a favorite type of eggs.”
“How do you have yours? I’ll just have the same.”
Am I too ashamed to admit that no one has ever cooked breakfast for me before? Yes. Yes, I am. I’m usually serving the eggs, not eating them.
“Scrambled it is.”
He cracks an egg into a mixing bowl, and I can’t help but smile. Warmth floods my body, watching him move so gracefully for such a big guy. He grabs a knife and starts slicing some bread. My eyes drop to his big hands, wondering how they would feel against my skin. His roughness against my soft edges – a perfect match?
Jack continues cooking and offers me some fresh berries.
“I picked them this morning while you were sleeping,” he tells me, slicing some strawberries in half.
“You have a garden?”
He nods. “Just a small one. Big enough to grow my fresh food and a bit extra for the chickens.”
I bite into the strawberry and a burst of freshness coats my tongue. It’s the sweetest strawberry I’ve ever tasted.
“You have chickens?”
Jack brings the steaming hot pan over to the plates laid out on the bench. With his sleeves rolled up, I can see the veins running up his forearm, sliding underneath a tattoo that’s peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
I squeeze my legs together, attempting to stop the heat burning my thighs.
“Yeah,” Jack continues, scooping bright yellow eggs on the plate. “Five girls. And a big boy to keep them in line.”
He winks at me, and I swear it hits me right between the legs. Fuck. Our eyes meet for a tiny moment, but it’s all I need to know I want this man. I thought it last night, but now my skin is tingling just being this close to him. I want him so fucking bad.
Jack eventually sits down beside me. He’s assembled a feast of eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, all accompanied by golden buttery toast. It’s an assortment of color and flavor like I’ve never seen before.
Sitting at the counter, I’m looking through a window with the most spectacular view ever. How the hell did I end up here?
“Jack, this is incredible. Thank you.”
He crunches a slice of toast and shrugs. “Anything for my special guest.”
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask, swiveling around to see a blanket on the floor by the fire. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep on the floor.”
“It’s ok, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jack shrugs. “Believe me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”
“Thank you. Really.”
He gives a lopsided smile and shrugs those enormous, round shoulders. “Plus, you had a rough ride up here. It was the least I could do.”
“You’re too sweet,” I say shyly.
I smile at his kindness. It’s a change from the grumpy, gun-wielding man who greeted me yesterday.
“I hope you don’t mind, but when I was checking myself in the mirror this morning, I found this.” I tap the photo album and watch as Jack’s eyes widen. “I haven’t looked inside. I didn’t want you to think I was snooping.”
He gulps down a mouthful of coffee.
“I haven’t looked at that in years,” he admits, his deep voice rumbling.
“Are they photos from the military?” I ask and Jack nods.
“Are there-”
“Photos of your father?”
I nod.
“Yeah,” Jack smiles gently, reaching across me to grab the album. “Your father loved the camera. Damn prissy was always posing like a supermodel.”
I giggle, my hands suddenly trembling as Jack opens the first page.
Jack spends the next few minutes flicking through the book. There are dozens of photos of him, smiling brightly in his youth. He tells me about his training, about how tough it was. It was all he ever imagined doing, his dream since he was a little boy. Another page of photos show him dressed in a formal military uniform. There’s more of him in the barracks, smiling with his friends. He’s shirtless and fucking ripped already.
I listen to him talk so openly, memories flooding out as he gets to the part where he meets my dad.
“SEAL training was the hardest. But we had the best unit they’d seen in decades,” Jack explains.
He flicks another page and then a big finger points at a photograph I’ve never seen. Jack shows me a man who is standing proudly in a dark green uniform. He’s tense, arms tucked at his sides, straight as a pin. His chin is held high, like he’s the proudest man on earth.
Tears fill my eyes as I see my father in a way I’ve never seen him before.
“He was a damn good man, your father,” Jack says.
“He looks so proud,” I say, my finger rubbing the photo where my fathers smile shines back at me.
Jack humphs. “Yeah, he was. He took pride in everything, especially his family.”
I look to Jack, holding the emotion in my chest. We share a long gaze, my skin heating.
“I miss him,” I say.
Jack’s cheeks squeeze through a painful smile. “Me too.”
I want to press further, ask about how it happened, how my father died. But I’ve already stepped too far, haven’t I? Then again, maybe Jack wants to talk about it? He seems to be enjoying talking about his military days.
I swallow hard. I’ve come this far, what’s the worst that can happen?
“W-was you there?” I stutter, unsure whether I stepping over the line. “You know, when it happened.”
Jack’s throat grinds with a giant swallow. He doesn’t speak, and just as I’m about to apologize for overstepping, he nods. Heavy eyelids cover the emotion threatening to spill over, and I reach out and grab Jack’s hand, squeezing it.
The moment is raw. His pupils grow darker, a surge of electricity sparking between us. But as quickly as it happens, he snatches his hand away and looks back to the album.
“Oh, here it is. I noticed you had the same photo,” he says, turning the page quickly, changing the subject. He’s pointing to a picture of my parents holding me in front of his cabin, a picture identical to mine. “This is the first time I met you. Your parents bought you to my old cabin, showing you off to the world. They were so proud.”
“Old cabin?”
Jack nods. “Yeah.”
I frown and lean in to look at the cabin. “Wait… that’s not this cabin?”
He shakes his head. “No. I built a new cabin a few years back. The one in this picture is higher up the mountain.”
“Do you remember me coming here as a girl? We visited a few times, but I don’t remember all of it.”
Jack clears his throat and closes the album. “Of course I remember.”
I lean in, the emotion of everything seemingly pulling me closer to Jack. We’re inches apart, my lips so close to his that I could kiss him. He takes a deep breath, glancing to my mouth before he leans back, rising from his chair to clear the plates with a clatter.
“Let’s go,” he demands. “I put some clothes on your bed. Get dressed.”
Jack leaves the dishes in the sink and grabs his coat, heading out the front door without another word.