“Gave you something you didn’t want. He didn’t care. He wanted it. Makes him an asshole in my books.” He paused. “Nothing new.”
“You can say that, but you know he’s not a bad guy. You just don’t like him very much.”
Jack shrugged. “Don’t like him personally. Still, was good to you. Made you happy. Now?” He glanced over. “Think you could lure him into a fun house?”
I laughed.
CHAPTER 17
When we reached the porch, Jack said, “Got a room with two beds, right? Vacant?”
“Sure.”
“Gonna suggest we take it. Just for tonight.”
I glanced over before opening the door. “So I don’t wake up screaming? Or sleepwalking into the lake?”
I said it lightly, but he just looked at me.
I nodded. “You’re right. Both are a distinct possibility, as much as I hate to admit it. We’ll both sleep better if someone can shut me down before I terrify the guests.”
“Not worried about the guests.”
“I am.” I waved him inside.
None of the rooms at the lodge are as big as most modern tourists expect. I’m very clear about the size on the website and in the brochures, both giving square footage and using adjectives like cozy, but I still field complaints.
The rooms with two beds have just enough room to walk around those beds—and nothing more. Close quarters, especially when you add a big dog. This time, we had to get changed in the bathroom, if only for logistics’ sake. I went first. Then I climbed into bed.
Jack came out a moment later. He was dressed in sweatpants—the same pair he’s worn since our first case, which still look new enough that I suspect he only brings them on “visit Nadia” trips.
As he got into his bed, I turned off the light and said, “I’ve kept you up talking long enough, but I want you to know I really apprec—”
“Don’t.”
“I just want—”
“You want to thank me, Nadia? Remove two words from your vocabulary. Sorry and appreciate. All right?”
I went quiet.
“Fuck. Came out wrong.” He propped his head on his arm, his face shadowed in the dim light. “Nadia?”
“It’s okay.”
More silence. Another soft exhale. “No, it’s not. Came out pissy. Wasn’t supposed to. I just mean . . .”
“That you’re tired of me apologizing, and you’re tired of me thanking you. But I don’t know what else to do, Jack. You came for me in Michigan. You got me through that. You gave me Aldrich. You got me through that. Now you’re here to help me through . . . the rest, with the journal, and I know it’s not enough to just say thank you, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“You don’t need to do anything. I don’t expect it. Don’t want it. I’m not keeping a tab, Nadia.”
“I know, but—”
“Me being here? Me finding Aldrich? Think that’s an inconvenience? Taking me from something else? Fuck, no. Schedule’s clear. Wasn’t here? Be waiting for work I don’t need. Coming here? Finding Aldrich?” He looked over. “Happy to do it.”
“Okay. I’m—” I sucked in air. “I—” I stopped myself again with a laugh. “First, I almost apologized. Then I almost apologized for almost apologizing. It’s a sickness, you know.”
A short laugh. “Yeah.”
Silence. I waited a moment, then lowered my head back to the pillow and tugged the blankets up.
“I care about you, Nadia. You know that, right?”
I felt my cheeks heat and was glad for the darkness. “I—”
“Just making sure you know. I don’t come around because I have to. Don’t help out because I have to. I want to. You need to thank me? Repay me? Let me help. Don’t make a big deal. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now go to sleep. You can’t? Want to talk? Wake me up.”
“Thanks.” I paused. “Am I allowed to say that?”
“For now. Just don’t overdo it.”
I smiled and curled up under the covers.
I slept so soundly that if I hadn’t been in possession of the beer all night, I’d have thought Jack dosed my bottle. Maybe part of my bad dreams had been my brain poking me to remember what happened, and now that I did, it could rest. It wouldn’t last. It wasn’t as if I’d just remembered where I left my wallet. This was huge, with major ramifications that eventually would pound louder than those forgotten memories. For now, though, I slept.
When the sun seeping through the curtains woke me, I slipped out of bed and dressed quietly, with Scout waiting at the door. I was padding toward her when Jack’s sleep-thick voice said, “Heading out?”
He was propped up in bed, covers around his waist. He was bare-chested, lean, with muscled arms. Wavy, silver-threaded black hair tumbled over his forehead. His free hand scratched his stubbled cheeks as he struggled to wake. It was not a bad sight to start my day.
“I’m going jogging,” I said. “Not fleeing into the night.”
“I know.” He stretched. “Hold up a sec.”
He swung his legs out and stretched some more. Then he walked to the window and opened the drapes, blinking.
“Fuck. That’s bright.”
“Yes, we call it dawn. Also? Cold.”
He shivered. “Yeah.” He glanced over. “How far you going?”
“About five miles. Why? Are you thinking of coming with me?”
There was a moment where it almost seemed as if he was going to say yes. Then he glanced at the frost-laced window and shivered again.
“Fuck, no.”
I laughed. “Go back to bed, Jack. When you smell cinnamon rolls, you know it’s time to get up.”
I reached for the door.
“Got your gun?” he said.
“I’ll be grabbing it before I leave. I’ll have my gun and I’ll have my guard dog, so I’ll be perfectly safe in the crime-infested streets of White Rock.”
He grunted.
Before I could leave, he stopped me again. “I’ll make the beds. Tidy up.”
“Emma will still notice, so I wouldn’t bother hiding the fact we slept in here unless it bothers you. She’s not going to say anything—she’ll be too busy trying to figure out why we used two beds.”
A short laugh. “Yeah. I’ll leave it then. Go on. Enjoy.”
I grinned back. “I will.”
Jack didn’t know what he was missing. The cold air and bright sun that sent him back under the covers were exactly what made it perfect jogging weather, the sunlight dappling the road as the chill air woke me up and kept me comfortable. I stuck to the back roads, empty and clear and silent.
As I ran, I thought about the journal. Not about what Aldrich did to me. Not now. This was morning, time for moving on—or at least for faking it. What I thought of instead was the rest of the journal.
I’d ask Jack to remove the page detailing my rape. Yes, the cop in me balked at tampering with evidence like that and maybe the rest of me balked, too, as if I should read all the details and tough it out. But there was no point, nothing to be gained. I accepted that I’d been raped; I didn’t need to read an account from my rapist’s point of view. Here I’d draw the line. Take the page out so I could read the rest.
Scout stayed at my side, happily panting, not even distracted by the squirrels that sped across the road or birds that shot up from the shoulders. Then I noticed her glancing into the forest.
At first it was just a couple of quizzical looks, as if to say, “Huh? What’s that?” On a run, it took more than a bunny or a raccoon to snag her interest. We don’t get a lot of coyotes and black bears, but they are out there, and I really didn’t want her tangling with them. Whatever was in those woods, though, clearly she considered it a potential threat, because every time I moved between her and the woods, she’d scoot back over, shielding me.