Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
You know that dream when you’re flying in the air, then you suddenly fall and your body jolts, and you’re startled awake but still grateful to be unharmed?
I get about ninety percent through this process, just up to the body-jolting part and barely emerging into consciousness when Jack bolts upright himself, gripping a gun, aiming it at the space in front of him.
There’s just enough morning light to softly bathe the room in a dim glow, allowing Jack to see more clearly and verify that no assailant is attacking us. My eyes are still bleary as I slowly sit up, feeling the ghost of a comfortable weight over my middle.
Did I freaking sleep through unconscious cuddle time?!
I’m pretty sure Jack’s arm was that heavenly pressure resting on my midsection, but a stupid hypnic jerk ruined it.
“So…is uh…” I circle with my finger, rubbing my eyes with my other hand. “Is this something you do often?”
“Nope.” Jack lowers his weapon and roughly runs the other hand over his face, letting out a deep exhale. “First time.”
“And you just had the gun nearby, ready to go?”
“Under the nightstand. Safety’s on,” he says, his voice deliciously gritty as he places the gun on the side table.
Exhaustion still hangs over each of us as we sit side by side, awkwardness growing as the aftereffects of our circumstances silently assemble themselves in the new light of day.
I wince when I roll my shoulders back, feeling the twinges, aches, and pains from the journey.
I’m not looking forward to a bumpy four-hour shuttle back to the South Rim.
It feels very anticlimactic, sitting so still after three days of intense physical exertion.
I’d been looking forward to the triumph of heading home after finishing this hike, but now the day is here, and there’s a sadness staining it.
I want to drag this last part out for as long as I can and put off the sting of heartbreak.
There’s also a desperation to bear hug the man beside me and beg him to take a chance on us.
Turns out I’m a little chicken in the relationship-defining department, though. Plastering on a sunny smile, I turn to Jack. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Food. Nothing happens ‘till food.”
“Mind if I take a turn in the bathroom first?”
“Go for it.” Jack waves, reaching for his phone and immediately donning his usual frowny pout. It’s a dangerous thing, feeling like I could get used to slow sleepy mornings with him.
By the time I emerge sporting the sweatpants and tourist T-shirt Jack bought me, he’s dressed in a fresh pair of cargo pants, the view of his bare back halting me in my steps as he slides a fresh T-shirt over his head.
I never knew a back could be so sexy, but everything about this man appeals to me.
Major sad face if this is the only peek I ever get.
Chin up, Willow. You’ll be okay.
Jack turns, taking in the shirt I’m wearing. I look down, then back up at his sour expression. “Why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?” I venture.
He smirks and strolls past me toward the bathroom, pausing at the doorway to look back. “It’s nothing. I just prefer seeing you in my shirts.” Then he winks and shuts the door, leaving me slack-jawed and frozen.
Did Jack Jackson just flirt with me?
Be still, my fickle heart.
Who is this man, and what has he done with the mostly grumpy and reserved Jack? Maybe my adorableness factor got to be too much for him, and he’s finally accepting his fate.
A girl can dream, right?
One flirty line doesn’t suddenly mean he’s changed his mind, I remind myself. I should be careful and mature and maintain the unspoken distance we’ve wedged between us.
I blow out a noisy breath, sinking onto the end of the bed to search for my phone. It vibrates incessantly with incoming notifications as soon as I turn it on.
Hayley:
*Photo of Giorgio attacking a puppycino*
Mom:
*Photo of Beyonsai*
I hope you’re alive out there! Call me before you head home.
Dad:
Scheduled your intern interview for Tuesday. Call me soon.
My shoulders deflate at the reminder that I’m about to disappoint my parents, but the churning in the pit of my stomach is no longer there when I think about breaking the news to them. I may still be scared as heck to do it, but the choice is easy now.
I send them both vague texts with an assurance that I’ll call them soon.
Marigold lies at my feet, and I pull her to my lap, sliding my new collection of clothes into her and running my hands over the multiple snags and tears.
She and I both came out of this a little roughed up, but I think we’ve learned that we’re capable of more than we thought.
Jack steps out of the bathroom, his freshly trimmed beard highlighting his sharp jawline, and the smoldering look he gives me hooks me right in the heart. Those slate eyes are burned into my very being. I must stare too long, because the concern he carries on his furrowed brow is pointed my way.
“You okay?” He steps forward, placing the back of his hand on my forehead.
“Yup.”
Just wallowing in a pit of despair and mourning the possibility of never snuggling your ridiculously handsome face again. All good.
“I need to get the rest of my things from your backpack. I can carry them now,” I say, lifting Marigold.
He snorts like I’ve told him I can lift a two-ton truck with one hand. “You can get it once we’re at the South Rim. I’ll carry everything till then.”
Right. Till it’s time for us to go our separate ways.
I shoot him a glare, which he ignores.
“You’re taking the shuttle, too?” I ask, tilting my head in question.
I mean, I know he’s using one of the park ranger cars, but maybe they need to remain on whatever rim they’re on.
I’m assuming Jack is staying near me because of the whole murderer-on-the-loose thing.
But for some reason, it’s hard to imagine him on the shuttle like all the regular folk.
I guess I pictured him as some kind of god amongst us mere mortals, using a magical rainbow bridge to cross to the other side.
“Neither of us is taking the shuttle,” he says, opening the door and grabbing everything besides the empty brown paper gift bag.
“Whuh—why? I can carry something, you know.”
“I know. I left that for you.” His eyes dart to the empty bag before he walks out the door. “And Owen texted, the helicopter that’ll take us to the other side leaves in an hour.”
I mindlessly pick up the paper bag, sluggishly following after Jack as my brain plays catch-up. “We’re taking a helicopter?”
“Yup.”
“Just like that.”
“Well…” He places everything in the trunk, a grimace on his face when he turns to me. “They kinda only land here for emergencies. So I may have exaggerated your wounds a little. If you could add a limp or maybe a bit of ketchup under a bandage, that’d help.”
A second passes before a slow, incredibly elated smile overtakes my face as my eyes widen. “You made a joke.” I point at his expression, then bring my hands to my cheeks. “This is the best day of my life,” I whisper before doing a happy little squeal.
“Me making a joke is the happiest day of your life?”
Yes, because I think you may just be thawing.
“Maybe,” I drawl, smirking, but he already seems distracted by something over my shoulder.
He must have remembered the walls he’s supposed to be keeping up, because he clears his throat and steps back, putting space between us.
A ball of disappointment sits bitterly in my throat as I hand him the paper bag.
He shuts the trunk, his eyes landing on my arm and tracing over the injury, sending a shiver down my back.
The man’s eyes keep telling a very different story from the rest of his body.
It’s a painful cycle of whiplash that reminds me I need to put up some walls of my own.
“Did you take your pain meds yet?”
“I was waiting to take them with breakfast.” I lean against the car and fold my arms, not looking at him. “Did you really get us a helicopter ride?”
“I did. Owen and Mary need to get back to the other side, anyway, and I made the case that we still need to ensure your safety. And this is the safest option.”
My brows dip, the wind blowing strands of hair into my face. “But…I’m going home today, and—”
The sound of an engine cuts me off, and we both turn to find a van pulling into the parking lot with a Channel 7 News logo printed on its side. Jack scowls at it before bringing his eyes back to mine.
“I think you should stay one more night. I have a crap load of paperwork to get through when we land, but I’d like us to talk.”
“Talk,” I repeat, still not sure if this is the it’s-not-you, it’s-me speech, or the bold, kick-fear-in-the-face, then-let’s-make-out chat. I’m highly in favor of the latter, and the sooner the better. The problem is that I know what Jack’s lips feel like on mine. And I’m forever changed.
I also know he’s been quietly putting more distance between us, holding back from little gestures of physical contact that drive me wild.
Which means this is more than likely a let-you-down-easy talk.
But I can’t deny him that moment, as much as it’ll hurt.
If it helps him face some of his fears in any way, then I’ll hear him out.
“Yeah. Talk,” he gives me a soft smile and opens the passenger door. Before climbing in, I narrow my eyes, a hand leaning on the side of the car.
I think I’m gonna make him work for it. Just for old times’ sake.
“I don’t have a room reserved. What if I can’t stay the night?”
He pulls that annoyingly smug yet sexy move where he slides his park ranger badge out from under his shirt, wiggling it before slipping it back into the place I’d very much like to lay my head.