Chapter Ten ADAM
Chapter Ten
ADAM
The music in my earbuds can’t drown out the whipping rain, pelting against the kitchen’s wide windows. Outside, everything’s pitch black, the storm completely swallowing the bending trees and the churning lake.
I could blame the insomnia on the forest groaning in the wind around us, or the harsh hiss of the storm, but tonight I’m tired of pretending.
Instead, I stand over the electric kettle, willing it to boil faster.
Eliza’s crash course on tea blends is suddenly invaluable.
I desperately need something, anything, to calm the static under my skin.
And it can’t be the usual remedy.
The little green light blinks bright in the dark room, and as I reach for the handle, movement flickers behind me. I spin sharply to see a disheveled Jackie scurrying in, clutching her robe securely around her body, a cloud of wild bed-tousled hair framing her face.
“Oh.” The sound rounds her lips the moment she sees me.
The sight coils something restless low in my stomach, but then I catch the shadows smudged under her wide eyes. Again, I break the promise I made to myself and pull out the earbuds with a sigh.
Jackie clears her throat. “Where is everybody?”
“Carter and Eliza are staying at her aunt’s overnight. Patrick and the new guys decided it was a good time to check the perimeter.” I reach for another cup from the shelf and fix her some tea, too. “I think they were bored out of their minds.”
She regards the cup as I slide it across the island toward her.
“Is it spiked?” The raised brow and cutting glare make her look more like herself.
But the comment still stings.
I raise my cup in a mock toast, forcing a smile.
Jackie hesitates for a beat until a loud thunderclap makes her jolt, and she gingerly takes a seat on the opposite side of the island. Looking into her cup, the tips of her fingers brush the rim of the green ceramic in silence.
“It’s Eliza’s.”
Her head snaps up, looking at me, confused.
“The tea,” I say evenly, though the hesitation grinds me the wrong way. “It’s safe to drink. I wouldn’t…” What? Prank you? Hurt you? Trick you into drinking something that could make you sick? God, this is unbearable.
How did we end up here?
Once, when she was around, the vortex inside my mind finally stilled. She calmed my jumbled thoughts in a way that not even the constant music in my earbuds can.
We used to talk for hours. She’d let me ramble on about everything that was so foreign to me in New York, laughing at my excitement. And now… awkward silence fills the space between us.
“Don’t you need to be home for that secret compliance meeting I’m not supposed to know about?”
I can’t help but chuckle. As usual, she doesn’t miss anything, even though she’s been benched. “I appreciate the concern. I’ll fly out on the day, then come back.”
She won’t get rid of me so easily.
A huff of poorly disguised frustration scatters the steam from the tea.
“Maybe there are other matters that require your attention. You know…the exciting nightlife.”
“You sound bitter. Aren’t you enjoying the perks of rural life?”
“I’d enjoy it more if the house weren’t so crowded.”
“I like it,” I say, shrugging. “It reminds me of sharing a dorm with Carter.”
“Why am I not surprised?” The tone of her voice reeks of disgust. “It’s not like you’ve grown out of the frat boy stage.”
I used to be addicted to her fire; it was the very thing that made her impossible to look away from. But now that the flames are turned on me, the sting of her heat feels like a threat.
The hot tea scorches my throat. “I’m not the same man.”
Her gaze flashes above the rim of her cup as she sips, cool and assessing. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Those blue eyes. The ones I find myself falling into, dreaming about them like an idiot. They’ve been like ice since she came back to the States, since Carter had to go and almost kick the bucket and ruin my Jackieless life.
For a brief second, I consider letting out everything I’ve held back. The things we never talk about. But this is not the time.
“Speaking of people who never change.” I move to safer ground. “I heard a certain finance executive was transferred to a branch in Serbia. His wife was complaining left and right that her life is ruined.”
Jackie lifts her chin, that elegant nose in the air. “You heard what she said about Eliza at the gala. If you think I’m going to let her breathe the same air as my family after that, you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.”
My throat tightens. I hate the way her fierceness reminds me of how much I loved her. That fire, the way she protects her family.
“Unfortunately, I can’t.”
She sets her cup down, hard. “Why do you need to be here if it’s such an inconvenience? I don’t want you here!” Her voice, harsh and strained, cuts through the kitchen. “I have enough going on without your fucking attitude!”
Thunder cracks again, rattling the glass. The outside security lights are extinguished, along with the ones in the hall. Jackie’s sharp gasp in the sudden dark spears right through my chest. I’m out of my chair instinctively, reaching for her.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
The blackout lasts only seconds, but it’s enough.
The front door bursts open, and Patrick strides in, making a beeline for Jackie.
The lights hum back on as the backup generator starts up, flooding the yard and the rest of the house with light.
She’s white as a sheet, trembling, her fingers clutching his arm.
The break-in did a number on her, even if she won’t admit it. Carter told me she refuses to talk about it with anyone.
“It’s just the storm,” Patrick says calmly. “There’s no one else here.”
A surge of jealousy blackens the edges of my vision. It’s irrational. But it burns through my veins, edging me to do something stupid.
Her voice wavers, dangerously close to tears. “Can you check, please?” She looks up at him, struggling to keep it together. “In my room.”
Patrick pats her hand like a concerned father and nods, helping her off the chair. “Let’s go. I’ll make sure there are no monsters under the bed.”
She sniffles in response and lets him guide her away. Before they turn the corner into the hallway, she glances over her shoulder, chewing on her words.
“Thanks for the tea.”
That hollow expression tears straight through me. The same look she had at her father’s funeral.
A statue clad in black, nodding politely at the rows of people, next to her brother and mom. They were all putting on the Rawlings brave front. But her gaze seemed to reach distant shores, far away from the suffocating church.
I reached her, heart booming in my chest, mouth dry.
Face to face for the first time in years.
And for the briefest of moments, her armor broke open.
Tears welled in her eyes, arms reaching for me.
But, in a flash, she remembered herself and curled her fingers into fists by her side.
She blinked the tears away, bit down on the inside of her cheek, and nodded.
All she gave me was a dry thank you. It messed me up badly, torn between wanting answers and the need to comfort her. One look, and every ounce of effort I’d spent on getting over her disintegrated into dust.
It’s the same cycle: hurt, want, repeat, and I haven’t found a way out.
Resentment toward her, but also myself, runs under the surface. Because she still makes me come undone so easily.
Every time.
I don’t want to feel like that. But I can’t not be near her.