27. Jack
Chapter 27
Jack
O ver the next thirteen days, I felt more anxious than I had in years. Analysing every word Morgan had said to me, and how everything I said could have been taken. Every sigh and glance during the silent dinner that had followed, and the silent car ride back to hers after that. This is why I don’t bother with dating , I said to myself on multiple occasions when I found myself dissecting the events of that dumbfounding evening yet again. Except you’re not dating , I said back to myself almost as often. And you only have yourself to blame for that.
The only way I could think to make things better – because a tiny, persistent part of me refused to believe I’d blown it completely – was to show her how sorry I was.
I tried to say it after our game the next evening, but she barely gave me the time of day. She was frosty all evening, and then she didn’t come to the pub with us after, saying she had too much work to do. I wondered if it was the freelance work she’d been telling me about, or work on the gala; either way, I wasn’t given the chance to ask her.
The only good thing about not being alone with her was that I was able to actually process what she’d said, and I took a much-needed solo road trip along the Pembrokeshire coast on a rare weekday off.
As the mineral scent of the sea air cleared my mind, I realised just how poorly I’d handled the situation. Of course Morgan could work anywhere. Hell, there were loads of fully remote jobs now that hadn’t existed four years ago. There were more and more businesses opening offices nearby. And even if she had to move, it didn’t necessarily mean anything for us, assuming there might still be an us . Jared and Fatima had been living apart for months, and as far as I could tell, they were doing great.
The next time I talked to Morgan, I wanted to have something to say. Something to show her that I knew I’d fumbled. The campsite didn’t have any signal at all, so I hiked out to the clifftop and sat above the sea on my phone, the wind whipping me as I researched my peace offering.
* * *
The next week after our game, she seemed to be in a better mood, and she came along to the pub like she now usually did. It was strange to me to think of a time when she played with us but didn’t come along; she fit into the group so seamlessly, and it felt more complete when she was there. But then again, maybe that was just my own interests talking.
Still, I was able to get her alone for a moment as we were waiting for our drinks. I’d been trying to find a quiet moment with her since she’d arrived at Fatima’s; I had a speech prepared and everything. But in the end I had to hold her back when she tried to head to the table with her drink, causing Chloe to glare at me as she walked away.
“Listen,” I said to Morgan once I had her alone, setting my drink down on the bar. I was relieved when Morgan did the same, despite the sceptical expression on her face. “I’m so sorry about what happened at mine. You were excited, and I was a jerk.”
“Yeah, you kind of were,” she said, eyeing me warily, but then she sighed, like it had been weighing heavily on her, too. That didn’t make me glad , per se, but it did make me feel less alone in my angst. “I just don’t understand what you want from me, Jack. Sometimes you seem to reward me for being open with you, but then when I try to be even more open, you shut down. Help me out here.”
“I know,” I said. “It wasn’t about you being open. I just got scared, like you said. That you wanted to leave.”
“Of course I don’t want to leave,” she said softly. “And I won’t if I can help it. But you’re the one who helped me see what I want to be doing to begin with. And it really sucked when you threw that back in my face less than twenty-four hours later.”
“I hate that I did that,” I said, chancing a half-step towards her. She didn’t move; in fact, her expression softened even more. “That’s why I made you something.”
She looked around me, at my hands and pockets, like I was going to pull out a present. But instead I just pulled out my phone, copied the text from my notes, and sent it to her. She pulled out her own phone when it buzzed a short moment later, scowling as she scrolled through the message.
“What is this?” she asked.
“About three dozen different design jobs,” I said. “A lot of them are here, or close to here. But there’s some as far as Scotland, and even one in London.”
Morgan looked up at me, and it seemed like she felt conflicted. Her brow was creased, and she bit her lower lip. But the corners of her mouth turned up reluctantly.
“I don’t want to move away,” she said. “I hope you know that’s not what this is about. It was about the fact that you clearly didn’t want me to either, but you wouldn’t just say it.”
I shook my head. “I’ll say it again: I don’t want you to leave. But I also want you to be happy. And I think you would be really fucking good at any of these jobs.”
She smiled again, but it looked slightly sad. I held her gaze for a long moment, until someone at the bar shoved into me slightly, breaking the moment.
“Sorry,” the person said.
“S’fine,” I said back over my shoulder, but when I turned back, Morgan had her drink in her hand again.
“Thank you for this,” she said, holding up her phone. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
We walked out to the beer garden together, where Fatima was showing different models of air-con units to the group, debating which one to get installed. We were all thrilled that we wouldn’t have to sweat anymore during our sessions, though of course it would have been even more helpful had she got it at the beginning of the summer instead of towards the end.
“Not to meta-game,” Phil said, leaning forward onto the table conspiratorially, “but can we talk about what we’re gonna do next in-game? Because I felt like last week we had what we needed, and then this week we’re still not dealing with the threat at hand, because someone wanted to explore the library. And I don’t really want to split up.”
“Plus one for not splitting up,” Fatima said. “It’s a pain in the ass to run, especially when you lot use it as a chance to socialise when I’m not on your group.”
“Right,” Morgan said, “but do we actually have what we need? Because I know we got information about the Sphere, but we still don’t know how to get back to our realm.”
“And we’re still being hunted by those soldiers,” Grey said.
Phil argued that those were much smaller problems, whilst Chloe insisted that the top priority was taking out the people following us so we could have more time to problem-solve. The two of them started bickering, with Grey backing Chloe and Morgan backing Phil. Fatima just sat back, watching them go at it, with a smug look on her face like it was all part of some dastardly plan.
“Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “Everyone here has a point. But I think what you’re both saying is that we can’t do anything in a considered way whilst we’re being hunted. And we can get to a point of not being hunted by either leaving the fae realm, where we know the soldiers won’t follow, or dispatching of those soldiers. Right?”
“Right,” Phil said. “Well said.”
“Good,” I said, then pointed at the empty glasses that had already accumulated. “Another round whilst we figure this out?”
“Good ol’ Jack,” Chloe said, patting my shoulder. “Our real-life support character.”
Something about the way she said that made me bristle. Like my only purpose in life – or at least in this friend group – was to mediate. To help out. To get the next round and give people lifts.
“I mean, I do have an opinion,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, taking her hand away, her eyes wide like she realised she’d touched a nerve. “And what’s your opinion?”
I met her gaze and saw that she thought she knew what I was going to say. Because Jack would never suggest doing anything brash, would he? I didn’t like being seen as so one-dimensional.
But I also didn’t want to derail the entire campaign. So I swallowed my pride and acted the part of the good little cleric.