An attack led them astray

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he fumed, his hand on my shoulder steering me across the street where a tram was just pulling up to the stop. Jack led me onto it, pushing me right up into the opposite door and glaring down at me. My back hit the glass, my heart going ninety. The carriage was by no means full, but there were a couple of people giving us wary glances.

I was focusing on looking anywhere but Jack’s eyes because they were scary right then. So black. I noticed he had a plastic bag dangling over one arm that contained a carton of milk, bread, and a packet of cigarettes. So yeah, I’d obviously been following him on a trip to the grocery shop and had gotten myself lost in the process. Still, I couldn’t understand why he was this mad. Mild irritation I’d expect, but this level of pissed off was way over the top.

Telling him I’d been following him would only worsen his temper, so I lied. “I was taking a walk. I wanted to see the city.”

“You wanted to see the city at eleven o’clock at night? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to wait until morning?”

I bristled. “Probably.”

“And if you were only taking a walk, then why did I find you huddled outside a newsagents looking like you were ready to have a panic attack?”

As he spoke, his body moved closer and closer to mine. Now his hips had me penned in place, one arm braced above my head and his broad chest in my face. I tried to keep my tone light-hearted.

“‘Huddled’ is a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it? And okay, I may have lost my way. I was just about to ask for directions when you showed up. Lucky that,” I said, and winked at him. Winked. At. Him. Why the hell did my brain think that was a clever thing to do? Jack frowned at me, a look I was beginning to recognise as him thinking I was being weird. Then he let out a long breath.

“You don’t know this city. Next time you want to go for a stroll, ask me to take you. Then, once you know where you’re going, you can wander all you like, though not at night. That’s just asking for trouble.”

There was something about the way he spoke to me that ruffled my feathers. Maybe I just didn’t like people telling me what to do. I stood straighter, lifted my chin, and pushed him out of the way. His body moved, though I was certain that if he hadn’t wanted to, my pushing would have been pointless.

“I’m not an idiot, so don’t talk to me like I am,” I said firmly. I’d spent my entire life being spoken down to by my mother. I wasn’t going to start letting someone else do it. Especially not Jack.

“Well, you sure seem to act like one sometimes,” he shot back, and I saw red.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I stared at him without blinking, and he stared right back. My arms were folded tight across my chest like steel, and I had the distinct urge to make a fist so I could punch him. This man was so aggravating.

“Are you being mean because of what I said earlier about your phone? Because if that’s the case, then I apologise again. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive.”

Okay, so I was goading him, but he had it coming. In an instant he was in my space, and this time the tension practically radiated off him. His hands went to my neck, his thumbs stroking my throat, and God, I was already turned on. He had that effect on me. Hell, maybe I got off on fighting with him. It really wouldn’t surprise me if I did.

He bent to bring his face level with mine and spoke slowly. “‘Sensitive’ is the last word anyone would use to describe me, flower, but keep poking, see how long it takes for me to snap.” His voice was low and cutting, but so erotic, and the subtle edge of a threat had my every pore alight and tingling.

“Seems like you’ve snapped already,” I whispered so quietly I’m sure he only heard because he was so close.

“If you think that’s snapping, then you don’t know me at all.”

“That’s right, I don’t.” I paused before continuing bravely, “But I want to.”

His mouth twisted, and he began to shake his head; for a second there was a tortured expression on his face. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.”

He dropped his shoulders so his forehead rested against mine, and I could feel him breathing. “Seeing you like that, alone, panicking, pissed me off, okay? I’m sorry for lashing out.”

His protective instincts were not entirely unexpected; however, they did surprise me. I was just a girl he knew. Yes, one he had the urge to go down on, but still just a girl. Would he really be that bothered if something were to happen to me? His words from the other night rang in my head.

You’re all I see.

Maybe he would be bothered. Maybe he would be very bothered. The thought made me shiver.

I didn’t know what to do. His mood had changed so swiftly. In the end, I just stood there, breathing him in, until the tram stopped and the door started to open. Jack laced his fingers in mine and led me off. We turned a corner, and there was the circus, the foundations of the Spiegeltent being laid out already. I had an idea for a three-part painting of the tent in its various stages of being built, the final complete one full of colour and light, people coming to see the show.

Sometimes it felt like I had so many ideas but never enough time to make them happen.

“What are you thinking about?” Jack asked, and I realised he’d been watching me.

“Oh, you know, the usual. How our lives are finite and we’ll only ever get to fit so much into them. How it doesn’t feel like enough.”

Jack gave me a thoughtful look and was silent a moment before he spoke. “Would it make you feel better to know that we all get the same number of hours in a day, days in a year? Some people might be rich and some might be poor, but none of them can buy time. It is one of the fairest systems in the world.”

“Yeah, but most rich people live longer lives than the poor.”

Jack shrugged. “I’m not talking about lifespans. I’m talking about time. And what makes you a good judge of what is enough? Maybe stop thinking of enough and just live in the moment. Then you won’t worry — you’ll just be experiencing.”

“It’s hard to change the way you think when you were raised to measure everything in comparison to everything else.”

“Well, that sounds like a depressing way to live your life.”

“It is.”

“Change, then.”

There was a forcefulness to his words, like he really cared. I stopped walking, my hand slipping from his. He paused two steps ahead of me and turned, arching a questioning brow. He was so beautiful. I loved looking at him in the dark and then in the light, noting the contrasts, realising that he was exquisite in every setting.

“Jack,” I breathed.

He looked wary. “Lille?”

“You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?”

Staring at me, he seemed caught off guard. He definitely hadn’t expected me to say that. His face appeared to be battling a war within itself over whether or not to smile or frown. In the end, I got something that was neither one nor the other.

“Only kind of?”

I let out a loud bark of a laugh and teased, “Well, you’re no Gandy.”

Jack shot me a confused glance. “And thank fuck for that. Who wants to look like a little old bald man with John Lennon glasses?”

My laughter spilled out and was impossible to control. When I finally regained the ability to speak, I said, “David Gandy the male model, not Gandhi the father of Independence in India. And technically, John Lennon stole the spectacles from him, since Gandhi came before Lennon.”

His face was what I could only describe as amused affection. “So, let me get this straight: I don’t look like a male model. Okay, I think I can live with that.” He said this with such a deadpan tone that I began laughing all over again, and it had just started to die down. What was even funnier was the fact that my comment was intended to tease and rile him up, but it hadn’t riled him up at all. And the truth of the matter was that he could’ve wiped the floor with a whole room full of male models. Jack’s beauty was far beyond anything quite so flat and one-dimensional.

I took two steps towards him and placed my hands on his chest. He watched my every move intently, like I was a strange animal and he didn’t know what I was going to do next.

“No, you don’t. You’re still beautiful, though,” I whispered before rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. I was being uncharacteristically forward. There was something about being out in the dark that made me feel less inhibited than usual. Jack stood still, an immovable living statue, letting me kiss him. I got a vibe of curiosity, like he was waiting to see where I was going with this.

Good luck with that.

I didn’t even know where I was going.

I was trying to live in the moment, like he said. Experience rather than measure. My hands explored his hard, warm chest before moving up to his neck and sliding around to sink into his hair. All the while he did nothing, and there was some sort of triumph in that. I felt like he was surrendering, letting me take what I wanted. It was a gift, I knew, because Jack McCabe wasn’t a man to surrender often.

Pressing my body along the length of his and feeling just how much he wasn’t indifferent towards me by the thick hardness at his crotch, I slid my tongue into his mouth and felt him shudder. Wow. I tugged on his hair a little and was rewarded with a deep, masculine groan that originated in the back of his throat and made every tiny hair on my body stand on end.

I broke away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Touch me back.”

He didn’t give in immediately, but after a moment or two, his arms went around my waist, tightening and pulling me closer. His mouth began to move, his tongue tangling with mine in a soft, sensual dance. I felt like I was trying to drink him in but would never quite get enough. My hands were everywhere, feeling every place I could reach, while his remained in place, never venturing anywhere other than my waist. His hands were balled at my hips, fisting my shirt tightly. I adored how solid he was, how immovable.

Just as I was falling into him, getting lost out here in the dark, a sharp, violent scream rang out, and I pulled away, startled.

“What was that?” I asked, breathless, right before a second scream sounded. Jack grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, my body propelling faster than I’d be capable of on my own. The screaming continued and it made my heart pound, my skin growing tight. We followed the noise right to Violet’s camper. The light was dim, but it was bright enough for us to make out a figure leaving through the door in a hurry. It was definitely male.

“Hey!” Jack shouted, letting go of my hand to chase after him. I hurried inside to find Lola crouched over, tears streaming down her face. The covers had been yanked off the bed, and it looked like someone had kicked a hole in the wall. Blood was running down her chin from her lip, and there was a look of terror in her eyes that I knew I’d never forget.

“Lola, what happened?” I asked, breathless and frantic as I went to sit by her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The moment I touched her, she instantly jumped away, her hands shaking and tears filling her eyes.

“Don’t,” was all she said.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, moving away and picking the blanket up off the floor. Carefully, I draped it around her shoulders, and she gripped it tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she continued to shake. I wanted to ask her what had happened again, but I didn’t feel like I’d get an answer. Leaving her for a moment, I went outside to find Jack walking back towards the camper, breathing hurriedly.

“Fucking lost him,” he said between breaths, and nodded to the van. “Who’s inside?”

“Lola. She won’t answer when I ask her what happened, but it looks like someone assaulted her. She won’t stop shaking, Jack.”

He swore and slammed his hand into the side of the camper in frustration. Over his shoulder, I saw a shadow move in the darkness a moment before King stumbled forward, his trademark bottle of liquor in his hand.

“Keep the noise down, would ya?” he grumbled, and brought the bottle to his mouth for a drink. Jack swiped it away from him and held it out of reach.

“You been hanging around here all night?” Jack asked.

“Hey! Give that back,” King complained, trying to grab for it.

“Answer me and then I’ll give it back,” said Jack, voice stern.

“Been around, yeah.”

“Did you see anyone go inside this camper?”

King frowned, his brows drawn together as he thought about it. “Nah, don’t think so.”

“Yes or no, King.”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I didn’t see anyone,” he shouted then, words slicing from his lips like razor blades. His arctic-blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and for a moment I was frightened. What if King was the one who attacked Lola? He had been hanging around all night. But then, we did see someone running away, someone fast enough to outrun Jack, and I didn’t think King was capable of that in his current state.

Jack scowled and finally handed him back his bottle. “Marina’s gonna chop your balls off when she finds out you’ve been drinking.”

“Bitch can have them. I’ve no use for them anymore,” King spat as he hungrily grabbed the bottle and stumbled away.

I glanced at Jack. “Can you come and try talk to Lola? She won’t tell me anything.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And you think she’ll talk to me? She’s just been attacked by a man, and I’m not exactly the gentle type. She’ll freak if I go near her.”

He sounded like he had experience with this type of thing, which only made my stomach twist further. What kind of things had this man seen in his life? I already felt uneasy and upset thinking of my friend sitting in her room, traumatised.

Turning, I went back inside to find Lola had calmed down a little and was no longer shaking so much. I sat at the end of her bed and laced my fingers together. There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t seem to swallow, and my eyes filled with tears.

“We need to call the police, Lola.”

Her eyes flared and she reached out, grabbing my wrist painfully. “No! No police.”

I didn’t understand her. “Why not?”

Fingers digging into my skin, she pleaded, “Just don’t call them. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Okay, I won’t. I promise, but you need to tell me what happened.”

She let out a long, shuddering breath and then locked eyes with me. Hers were still so bloodshot that it was almost difficult to look at them. She was still sick. “I was sleeping and all the lights were out. I didn’t hear him come in. All I know is that I woke because I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was leaning over me, pressing all his weight into my chest. It was too dark to see his face, but I thought he might be wearing a balaclava, because I felt something woollen brush my skin. I started to scream, and he punched me hard in the mouth.” She stopped, weeping now, and brought her hand to her bloodied lips.

I wanted to go to her so badly, but I didn’t. I knew she didn’t want to be touched by anyone. Not yet. All of a sudden, I became aware of a presence behind me and turned to see Jack standing just outside the door, listening. Thankfully, the door was mostly closed, so Lola couldn’t see him. He’d been right. His presence was far too foreboding sometimes. He was so big and male, and Lola was very likely to freak if she saw him right now.

I took her hand in mine and urged her to continue with my eyes. Her words tumbled out again. “He yanked the blanket away from me and I tried to struggle free, but this time h-he…he punched me in the stomach. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t move for a minute, and he pried my knees apart and put his hands on me.” She paused and almost whispered, “Between my legs. I got just enough energy up to start screaming again, and I must have been loud, because he ran.”

A painful kind of fear clutched my chest. “Did he say anything? Did you hear his voice?”

She shook her head. “No.”

A silence elapsed, but I could still sense Jack standing outside the door. I made my voice as soft as possible when I asked, “Lola, why can’t we call the police? This guy is still out there. He could do it to someone else.”

She groaned like she was in pain, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lola’s not my real name, Lille.”

“I know. Violet told me.”

The confession that came next was completed unexpected. “There’s a reason for that. I can’t be found. And if I tell the police my real name, he’ll find me.”

“Who?”

“My husband.”

My jaw dropped. Lola had a husband? It was hard to believe, because she was only a year older than me. At least, she’d told me she was twenty-two.

“You know why I liked you right from the get-go?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingertips lightly down the side of my face. “Your eyes. They haven’t grown hard yet, and there’s no malice. When I got away from him, I promised myself I’d try my hardest to surround myself with people like you. Gentle people. People who don’t hurt others. Then I’d never go back to what my life used to be.”

She hadn’t said anything explicitly, but she didn’t need to. Her husband had hurt her, and that’s why she needed to get away.

“Derek is the filth,” she said, using London slang for police. “He has connections. If my name shows up, he’ll find me. That’s why we can’t call them.”

“But we’re in France,” I began, and she interrupted,

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll find me. I can’t let that happen.”

Behind me, I could hear Jack swearing and pacing around the living area.

Lola’s brows drew together. “McCabe’s out there?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was walking me home. We heard you screaming and saw your attacker leaving. Jack chased him, but he couldn’t catch him.”

“Oh.”

Some kind of relief showed on her features, and my stomach twisted again. I knew what she’d been thinking. For a moment she’d wondered if her attacker had been Jack. I felt like defending him, but she hadn’t said anything outright, so I couldn’t. I barely knew him, really, and already I wanted to tell everyone that he wasn’t a bad person, that he might actually be a great person. One of the best.

Yeah, I had it bad.

I heard the camper door opening and Violet’s recognisable voice questioning Jack as to what he was doing there. Seconds later she practically exploded into the room, taking in Lola’s appearance and hurrying to her, asking her if she was all right. On a normal day, these two were at each other’s throats, but now that something bad had happened, Violet looked just about ready to murder someone. It was an awful situation, but for a second my heart warmed to see that Violet actually genuinely cared for Lola.

I knew that Violet was aware of Lola’s past when she didn’t ask if we’d called the police yet. She knew that we hadn’t. Couldn’t. I glanced at Jack and could tell that he was seriously pissed off about this, but he didn’t try to force his hand. The camper was small. He’d obviously heard Lola and derived the same conclusions I had. I left Violet to comfort Lola and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly and coming face to face with Jack. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“This whole situation is fucked,” he said. “Whoever did this is dangerous, and he’s out there free to do as he pleases.”

For some reason, his anger surprised me. I’d expect anyone to be pissed about not calling the police, but Jack was outraged. I felt like he had some kind of personal investment in this that I couldn’t understand.

“You heard Lola. She doesn’t want her husband to find her. I didn’t even know she had a husband.”

Jack growled and sat down on the couch. “Everybody here has a past they’re trying to run from. That’s why we feel the need to travel, keep moving so we’ll never be found. This circus is particularly appealing because we only advertise when we reach a destination. We don’t have a website or a tour schedule that’s accessible by the public. Marina likes it that way, mainly because she says she hates computers, but I personally think she might be afraid of them. She has a tonne of books about conspiracy theories in her camper.”

For the first time since we discovered Lola had been attacked, his face showed something other than severe anger. He was clearly very fond of Marina. I gave him a small smile. I’d actually seen those books when I’d been holed up in her place doing her accounts.

What Jack said gave me another realisation, something that had been niggling at me. In the back of my mind, I’d very much expected for my mum to have shown up by now. I put it down to her not being able to take the time off work, but now I knew differently. She couldn’t find me because the Circus Spektakulär wasn’t listed. The thought made me feel so much better, a tension leaving me I hadn’t even known was there.

“I’m not looking forward to spending the night on this couch,” said Jack, perusing the living area, his words breaking through my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I’m staying here tonight. I can’t take the risk of the attacker coming back.”

I scratched at my neck awkwardly. “Um, I was actually going to sleep there, since Lola’s sick. I don’t want to catch her flu.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Jack’s gaze grew hot, his eyes smouldering. I never thought smouldering was actually a real thing until I met him.

“You can lie on top of me if you like. Better yet, just sit on my face.”

I stared at him in silence, mouth hanging open. He was so…lewd sometimes. It unsettled me to think that if anyone else had said that to me, I’d be disgusted. But Jack managed to make the stark obscenity sound appealing. I flushed, and a tingle radiated down my spine.

“That’s…that’s…that’s a really inappropriate thing to say to someone.”

I could feel his gaze right then like it was a physical touch. “True, but you’re not just anyone to me.”

“Who am I to you?” I asked, unable to help myself.

He looked at me for a long, endless moment. “Someone.”

I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it still made me feel hot all over. My heart beat hard just for him. It felt euphoric to be someone to Jack, and I knew from deep within me that I wanted to be his only someone. I wasn’t his only someone, though. There was still Julie with her bitchy looks and cruel words that hid behind her pretty face and fake beaming smiles.

“You’re someone to me, too,” I whispered into the quiet. We stayed like that for a long time: me standing in the middle of the room, him sitting on the chair, having a silent conversation until Violet came in, completely unaware of the tension.

“Lille, Lola’s asking for you,” she said, and I grabbed onto her words as an escape. Otherwise, I’d never be free of the prison that was Jack McCabe’s sexy stare.

***

Despite my plans to do otherwise, I ended up sleeping with Lola in her bed, her small frame wrapped up in my arms. She’d been so distraught and jittery that I decided I’d put up with catching the flu because she needed me, and I didn’t want to leave her on her own. I knew that if I were in her place, I wouldn’t want to be alone, either. Violet had to be healthy for her performances this week. I was much less vital to the circus and therefore could afford to get sick. And I had a strong immune system, so maybe I wouldn’t catch it.

I woke early, Lola still in my arms. Gently extricating myself from her, I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, needing to pee. I caught sight of Jack on the couch, still sleeping. I’d given him my duvet last night, and felt warm and fuzzy inside to think of him being able to smell me on the fabric. His deep breathing filled the camper and it was a gorgeous sound. With my dad out of the picture, I’d never really experienced living with a strong masculine presence.

My bladder felt full and heavy, and it was a relief to finally go. When I was leaving the bathroom, only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, my gaze flicked to Jack to see he wasn’t asleep anymore.

He lay with his arm behind his head, watching me. His legs hung off the edge of the couch because he was so tall. I cringed to think of him hearing me pee, which was ridiculous, because it was a perfectly natural bodily function. There should be no shame in peeing.

His eyes ran down my body, from my face to my neck to my chest, lingering on my bare legs the longest. I thought I had nice legs. They weren’t too fat, or worse, too thin, and they were long enough to be considered attractive. I felt myself blushing hotly and staring at the carpeted floor like it was fascinating.

“That was by far the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” he said, his deep voice hitting me deliciously at the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I definitely enjoyed listening to Jack speak first thing in the morning.

“That’s because the couches in these camper vans were built for hobbits, and if you lived in Middle Earth, you’d definitely be one of the elves,” I shot back, and received the most delectable low chuckle in response. It sent a thrill right down to my toes. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the kitchen and popped the kettle on.

“Do you want a cup of tea? Or coffee, maybe?”

He sat up and rubbed his hand along his jaw, where there was an attractive bit of stubble growing. “Coffee. Thank you.”

I glanced at him briefly, allowed myself a second to enjoy his naked chest, then focused on making his drink. I’d seen him topless before, of course, but that was when he was onstage, or from afar as he helped build the Spiegeltent, not up close in a tiny camper van, his presence soaking up all the oxygen. Perhaps that was why I was suddenly having difficulty remembering to breathe. I heard the floor creak, and then a moment later I felt his heat behind me as he brought his hands to my hips and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured in my ear, all gravelly. I swear I was wet already. His voice, his closeness, his subtle touch — it all worked to soften me, make me a welcoming host for whatever he wanted to give.

“Hi,” I squeaked, spooning instant coffee into two cups and trying to focus on keeping my hands from trembling. Then his lips were on my neck, his hot, wet, open mouth sucking my skin, and I ended up dropping the spoon, coffee granules spilling over the counter.

“Jack,” I protested, but my voice was more air than sound, and it did nothing to stop him. I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my legs growing weak. His deft hands spun me around to face him, and his mouth left my neck. He stared down at me, eyes roaming my face, my mouth in particular.

“You’ve got pretty lips,” he said, cupping my jaw, then lifting his thumb to my mouth. I stood there, immobile, as he rubbed across my lips and dipped inside. Jack groaned as his thumb went in, watching with rapt attention, and I shuddered at the invasion. He started to move it slowly in and out, and I swallowed back a moan. My tongue touched his thumb and he hissed, hips pressing into me, his erection hard and hot against my stomach.

I surrendered completely, body limp, as he invaded my mouth, and I welcomed it every time he went deeper. I imagined doing this to his cock, taking all of him in, and the dark, simmering look in his gaze told me he was imagining the exact same thing.

I broke away from him abruptly the second I heard Violet’s bedroom door creak open. Jack retreated back to the couch and casually sat, like nothing had even happened.

“Whoa, McCabe, put a top on, would you?” said Violet, giving him a cranky glare. “I don’t wanna see that shit first thing in the morning.”

And she sounded like she genuinely didn’t. It boggled my mind, because I couldn’t imagine any heterosexual, red-blooded female not wanting to see a topless Jack first thing in the morning. Topless Jacks were what mornings of dreams were made of. Then again, I had just been enjoying his thumb in my mouth, so perhaps I was biased.

Silently, I returned to making the coffee, cleaning up the spilt granules and making a third cup for Violet. Much to my disappointment, Jack pulled on a shirt, and we sat drinking, getting our caffeine fixes and quietly discussing how to go about dealing with what happened last night. There wasn’t much we could do, given that Lola wouldn’t let us call the police, but Jack said he’d let Marina know and inform the others, make sure they were on the lookout for any strange activity.

Every time I looked at him now, I blushed. I mean, he’d gone down on me outside just the other night, and somehow I was more embarrassed about what had happened this morning. There was something about the stark daylight and the raw sexuality of how he touched me that made me feel too hot under my skin.

When he left to go back to his place and take a shower, I finally felt like I could breathe again. Violet made a few back-handed comments about unresolved sexual tension, which only served to put my nerves well and truly on edge. If Jack could get me this worked up by barely touching me, then I shuddered to think how it would be if we had sex. I needed an outlet, a bit of stress relief, so I set up my easel outside and started painting.

I’d sketched an outline of the painting I planned of Jack, but I wasn’t in the right place to tackle it properly yet. He was taking up enough space in my head already. Instead, I started my three-part painting of the Spiegeltent, which was a much easier subject, given the current state of my emotions. After a while I heard someone approach, and I knew it was him. It was almost like I recognised how his eyes felt watching me, which was downright weird. He sat on a folding chair with a book in his lap, quietly reading just like the last time. Was this going to become a habit?

Oddly enough, I hoped it would.

A couple of minutes passed before I asked, “Do you ever think about what your life would be like if your parents hadn’t died in the fire?”

He looked at me for a long moment, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Feeling like inflicting a little light emotional torture today, flower?” His words held both a bite and a certain level of tenderness.

“I’m just curious. I mean, I’d think about it if I were you. Don’t you ever feel like contacting your brother? Talking to him?”

“He left me. What’s there to talk about?”

I shrugged, looking at my painting because Jack’s stare was too intense right then. “I dunno. I just feel like believing the words of two random nurses and an uncle you never met before is foolish. You should hear it from the horse’s mouth. People make mistakes all the time. Perhaps the nurses got it wrong. Or perhaps your uncle was lying. You never contacted Jay directly. Not once.”

“Don’t say his name. I don’t want to hear it,” said Jack, a warning in his voice.

I went quiet for a minute, then said, “Thinking about him hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jack’s jaw tightened as he stared off into the distance. I didn’t expect him to answer me, so I was surprised when he bit out, “Yes.”

“Letting it fester won’t help anyone. Believe me, I know. I’ve spent years letting my mother’s meanness fester. All it does is eat you up inside. About a year ago, I started writing letters, telling her just how much she’d hurt me. I never intended to send them, but writing it down helped. The burden wasn’t so heavy afterwards.”

“What are you saying, Lille? That I should write my brother a letter, tell him how much I fucking despise him, is that it?” he scoffed.

I gave him the most sincere look I could muster as I replied, “If you think it will help, then yes.” I paused, summoning up the courage to whisper, “I care about you, and I don’t want you to hurt on the inside.”

His head turned, and he looked at me for a moment that dragged on forever, like my words had meant something to him. I saw a war wage within his black eyes before some of the tension went out of him in a long exhalation.

“Go get me a pen and paper,” he said, and I literally felt my heart leap. He was actually going to do it. I couldn’t have been more shocked if he told me he had a penchant for wearing women’s underwear every now and again.

Not saying a word, I went inside and checked on Lola for a minute (she was sleeping), then tore a few pages out of my notebook and grabbed a pen. Going back out, I handed them to Jack, our fingers brushing absently, then returned to my painting. He sat there for a long time, fiddling with the pen, before he began to write.

My belly was all aflutter as I watched him. I tried to focus on my painting, but I couldn’t help it. I was dying to know what he was writing. It was private, though, and I wouldn’t pry. I got lost in my painting for a while, working on the details of the stained glass windows of the Spiegeltent, and how they caught the light.

“Fuck,” Jack swore, startling me out of my concentration. I looked up to see him stand from his seat, scrunch up the paper he’d been writing on, and throw it in the bin. “This is bollocks.” He glared at me, and I felt my throat tighten. Jack McCabe was not the kind of man anyone wanted glaring at them, and I certainly didn’t relish being the recipient of said glare.

“I never said it worked for everyone. Maybe writing stuff down just isn’t cathartic for you like it is for me,” I suggested quietly.

“Why’d you even bring it up, Lille, huh? I told you about Jay because I trusted you. That doesn’t mean you have permission to start discussing it all casual like you’re commenting on the fucking weather.”

He kicked the side of the camper in frustration, which caused Violet to stick her head out the window, looking pissed. “What the fuck, man?”

Jack gave her a withering stare, and she shrank in on herself, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like “psycho” before she retreated back inside and shut the window tight. I stood and strode toward him, reaching out and pushing his shoulder. “Hey, that was uncalled for. I was only trying to help you.”

He grabbed my wrist, clutching it harshly, and I sucked in a breath. “From now on, my past is off limits. We don’t talk about it. You understand?”

“You’re angry. People that angry need to sort their shit out, Jack. You can’t just keep ignoring it. Burying your head in the sand just leaves you with sand in your eyes.”

He arched an eyebrow, and okay, yeah, what I’d just said sounded stupid, but I didn’t know how to get through to him. I also didn’t know why I felt it was so important that he come to terms with his feelings about his brother’s abandonment. All I knew was that it made me sad to think of what he might be missing out on. From what I’d learned about Jay Fields, he was an amazing person, and Jack deserved to have someone like him in his life.

Something about Jack’s story just didn’t ring true, and it had been niggling at me for a while.

“Stay out of my business, Lille,” he said finally, voice harsh but eyes sad, as he let go of my wrist, turned around, and walked away. I stood there even after he was gone, wondering if I’d just ruined whatever we had before it had even begun.

Then my eyes landed on the rubbish bin, where Jack had thrown his scrunched-up paper. My curiosity was about to get the better of me.