“My Mom got sick,” I say when I walk into the living room and sit on the the arm of the couch where Jacob has been sleeping over the past week.

“What? Now? Where? Should we go there?” He springs up, ready for action. To his utter confusion, I laugh softly in response.

“Not now. She died two years ago. That’s the answer to your question. Why I ghosted you.” I watch him relax visibly. I can't help but smile, seeing him so ready to jump into action when he's needed. It makes me feel safe, knowing that a man like him has got my back.

Jacob scoots on the couch to make space for me and pats the seat. “Come here,” he says.

I snuggle into the crook of Jacob's arm and get comfortable.

“Tell me everything,” he says.

So I do. I tell him about the phone call I got from my neighbor that morning after our first night together.

Mrs. Graham from next door had heard a loud crash from inside my apartment. She’d called out to my mom and gotten no answer, so she’d gone in with her spare key, only to find Mom unconscious on the floor. Mrs. Graham had called 911 and then called me as she was waiting for the ambulance.

If it wasn't for the thin walls and Mom knocking down a bookshelf as she blacked out, she would've had to wait for me to come home to get some medical attention.

“I blamed myself for the longest time. I kept thinking, maybe if I were home that night, I would've been able to help her, take her to the hospital earlier. Then maybe she would've fared better.” I take a deep breath. “At least I would've avoided the ambulance bill,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“It must've been hard, being responsible for so much when you were so young.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was hard.” My voice cracks. A tear escapes my left eye, glides down my cheek, and falls onto Jacob's shirt. “Stripping was the only job I could get that paid enough to cover the cost of my Mom's medical bills.”

“She was already sick before that morning?”

“Yeah. She’d gone into remission the previous year, but the cancer came back.”

Jacob wraps his strong arms tight around me as I begin to sob. I never would've guessed he had it in him just by looking at his tough exterior, but he strokes my hair gently and talks to me in a soothing voice.

“I can grab some tissues if you want,” he says as it becomes obvious I'm ugly-crying in his chest. He chuckles. “Or you can blow your nose into my shirt. I don't care.”

“You're being gross,” I say in a voice distorted by a blocked nose. “There's a box in the coffee table drawer.”

Jacob leans forward to grab the tissue, taking his arms off me for a few long seconds. Looking at his broad back, I realize, Jacob is the only person I can trust and rely on right now. And it feels like something's missing now that I'm not in his arms.

I wonder if Jacob is right. Maybe, despite everything, I already belong to him.

* * *

A part of me is annoyed at myself for letting myself be vulnerable to Jacob. Even if he has said and done all the right things so far, I’ve only known him for a few weeks since he moved into town. But a different part of me feels lighter, happier. For the first time in a long time, I’m not plagued by anxiety.

In fact, I’m finding myself just sitting around in a daze a lot, thinking about last night. The shared secrets, the intimacy, the blazing hot sex.

It's the end of the day, and I’m sipping my tea in the staff room, while my brain is filled with dirty thoughts completely inappropriate for my surroundings. I mean, I’m in a school and I'm thinking about Jacob's cock pushing into my throat, his deep voice giving me orders, my own dark need to surrender overtaking me, his whisper—

“Hello? Jessica!” Tony's voice wakes me up from my daydream.

I really need to stop zoning out. This has happened at least four times today.

“Wow. Where were you? I called your name, like, seven times.” Tony looks annoyed.

“Sorry.” I give Tony an awkward smile as I try my best to cast out the dirty images in my mind and forget about the wetness in my panties. “What's up?”

“You need to tell me how you're meeting these guys,” Tony says.

“What are you talking about?”

“There's a guy. A total hunk. He's looking for you. Really insisted on seeing you. I think he's the clingy type. Between Jacob and him? I’d pick Jacob.”

“Wait. Back up.” I frown. “What are you talking about? Who's this guy? One of the parents?”

“No, I’ve never seen him before in my life. Believe me, I would've remembered meeting that guy.”

“So, who is he?”

“He has a weird name. Bane? Klein?”

“Caine? Caine Foster?” A chill creeps down my spine when Tony nods. “What does he want?”

“I don't know, but he told me it's important. He also said you were going to be weird about it, but he just wants to talk.”

“Okay.” I tap my pencil on the surface of the wooden table in front of me. “Okay, okay, okay.” I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself down.

“It's not going to be that bad. Just tell the guy you've met someone else. I’m sure he'll be okay,” Tony says.

“No, you don't understand. He may be dangerous.”

“Are you serious?” He frowns, signs of worry starting to appear on his face. “Do you want me to tell him to leave?”

“No,” I say.

I told Jacob last night that I wasn't going to meet strange men, but Caine Foster is not some random weirdo. I don't think a guy like him would want to risk his reputation by getting involved in small-time crimes. Besides, if he wanted to harm me, he could've paid someone else to do the dirty work.

Maybe he really just wants to talk. I mean, I talked to Steve and nothing happened to me.

“I’ll see him,” I tell Tony.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say.

As I’m about to leave the room, I decide a little insurance wouldn't hurt, even if Caine Foster really only wants to talk.

I grab Tony’s arm and make him walk with me down the school hallway. “Come with me. Watch me talk to him. If anything weird happens, like if he drags me away or if I start begging for my life, call 911.”

* * *

“My sources tell me you’re on the run,” Caine says from across my desk when I ask him why he’s here.

“I understand that. I’m sure you have good, reliable sources and you know they’re right. What I don’t get is why you’re interested at all.” I glance toward the little glass window in door, trough which I can see my bodyguard, Tony.

My bodyguard seems to be playing Candy Crush on his phone as he leans against the lockers, but he sometimes peers inside the classroom to check that everything’s fine. Maybe he’s only checking Caine out instead of being concerned for my safety, but I can live with that.

“I just learned that Nancy is a distant relative of mine. I wanted to get in touch with her, maybe get to know that side of my family. It’s too late for that, but I can still help with tying up some loose ends.” Caine looks calm and collected, like he’s used to dealing with fugitive schoolteachers who are suspicious of him.

Tony’s right. He’s hot, in a rich-trust-fund-kid kind of way, but he’s not my type at all. I prefer my men with some dirt on their hands.

Slick and well-polished, Caine and his designer business suit can waltz right into a photoshoot for a glossy magazine and fit right in. I bet his shiny hair and his well-groomed facial hair would look good in print.

“So I’m a loose end?”

“I apologize if that offends you. I just mean there are some affairs that haven’t been resolved. I’m sure Nancy would’ve preferred it if you didn’t have to run away anymore,” he says diplomatically.

“You didn’t even know Nancy.” I know I’m being difficult and argumentative. I don’t fully understand why myself. I don’t trust this guy. Maybe I’m just not used to dealing with guys like him.

“That’s true. I’d love to hear stories about her from you one day, when we both have more time,” Caine says with a polite smile. His eyes flick toward Tony, who’s still standing outside, right by the door. “And less suspicion.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know you, and now you’re here telling me that you’ve solved all my problems. Naturally, I’m…cautious,” I say, smiling my old, practiced customer-service smile. I can be all diplomatic too.

The way Caine talks annoys me, but of course I’d be ecstatic if he could really get rid of Stan. Maybe a part of me can’t accept that he can do that so easily, so quickly, without even knowing all the facts, when I’ve tried so hard without much success.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve solved all your problems,” Caine says. “But you don’t have to worry about Stan anymore, or any of his people.”

“What did you do exactly?”

“I just made it clear to Stan that I’d get involved if he were to try to harm you. I don’t know how much you know about my family, but most people tend to want to stay in our good books.”

“So he’s not going to come after me?”

“No. From what I can tell, he’s been waiting to be released before he starts tracking you down, but you don’t have to worry about that now. I have someone monitoring his movements. If he so much as makes a move in your direction, we’ll take measures to stop him. I hope you understand why I can’t get into details about our methods,” he says.

“Of course. Thank you.” I get it. This is all the information I’m ever going to get about how Caine has handled Stan. A guy like Caine can’t leave any trace of his involvement, especially if he has threatened a man with bodily harm, which is probably what he’s done.

There will be no proof. I’m just going to have to rely on Caine’s reputation and trustworthiness.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “You were a great friend to Nancy. I should’ve been there to help her, but you took on that responsibility instead. I just don’t want you to suffer the consequences for the rest of your life.”

“Thank you,” I repeat. I don’t care if Caine speaks like a newscaster on TV. If he really has removed Stan as a threat—and I believe he has—then he has done me a huge favor. I’m genuinely grateful. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well, there’s just one thing. I came here to talk to you, but there’s also another reason. I’d like to meet Bertha Jones. As you’ve probably deduced, she’s also a relative of mine.”

“She’s out of town right now.”

“I know. I was hoping you could tell me more,” he says.

“She just told me she’s visiting relatives. That’s all I know.”

“Okay. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to see her and have a chat soon.” Caine gets up from his chair and extends his right hand. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you.”

“Likewise,” I say as I stand up and shake his hand with relief.

I can’t be happier with the news Caine has just shared with me and I’m sure he’s a good guy, but I’m also glad we’re done talking. I can’t deal with this much tension for too long. Luckily, it seems my brush with the criminal world is over.