“I know. Just wanted you to understand. Don’t have to worry you’ll find out. Which brings up something else. About Quinn.”
I must have stiffened, because he looked over quickly. “Not that. Not even Quinn really. About you two.” He paused. “No, not you two. Like that. Just . . . Fuck.”
“Tell me what you want to say, Jack.”
“You mentioned expectations. Want to talk about that. Different expectations. Awkward conversation, though. We just get together and I say, here’s what I expect? Like I’ve got a right to expect anything.”
“You do,” I said, looking over at him. “It’s not as if we just met, and you’re right—even if it seems early to be laying out expectations, it doesn’t take long before it’s too late, and both parties are headed down very different paths.”
“Yeah.”
We reached a fork in the trail. I thought that’s what stopped Jack from continuing, but even after we started down one, he said nothing.
“Do you want me to go first?” I asked.
“No. Got this. What do I expect? No, not expect. Want. Anything you don’t—”
“Jack, stop qualifying. You’re only going to make the conversation longer and I’m sure you’ve had enough of it already.”
A short laugh. “Yeah. All right. I want a relationship. A committed relationship. Marriage? Can’t offer that. Legally? The guy I was? John Daly? Long gone. Presumed dead. Can’t come back. Ever. Otherwise? Got three surnames. Don’t consider any of them mine. None are legal. It’s just Jack. Can’t marry like that. Kids? Never considered it. No real opinion on it. You wanted one? We could figure something out. Wouldn’t be easy, though. My past. My identity. Makes everything tough.”
“I don’t want children, Jack. And I don’t need a wedding band to be in a committed relationship.”
“All right. Good. Not that I expect . . . Fuck. Been two days. I’m already talking about that.”
“You’re talking about long-term possibilities and laying out the issues, which I’m absolutely fine with.” I glanced at him. “Just as I’m fine with a scenario where someday those would be questions we had to consider.”
“Good. All right. So that’s what I can’t do. What I want to do?” Three more steps. Then he turned, his hands going to my hips, stopping me and holding me there as he looked me in the eye. “You know I’m tired of the job, Nadia. Not ready to get out. But ready to start moving that way. I want something else. Something more. Something with you.”
I pressed my lips to his and murmured, “Good.”
He exhaled and kissed me back, and I could taste the relief in his kiss. He was right. This was difficult, putting ourselves out there for rejection, admitting what we wanted. Hell, after three years of not even daring to say that I expected to see him again, there was a part of me that was terrified of even admitting I wanted more than a fling. But he did. And that was, as I said, good.
“So you’re fine with that?” Jack said as he pulled back. “Me spending more time at the lodge? Maybe staying? Between jobs?”
“I am absolutely fine with it. I’ll just need to strike the right balance between taking advantage of having an extra pair of hands around the place and not giving you so much work that you’re scouring the papers, looking for someone to kill, so you can get a break.”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t happen. I like keeping busy. I just . . . I want to be sure it’s all right. That’s your place. Your personal place. And I know you never brought . . .”
He trailed off before saying Quinn’s name.
I nodded. “I kept telling myself that I was just waiting for the right time to introduce him, but I don’t think that was it. It was . . . it was different. You’ve been honest, so I’m going to take the same chance, even if it doesn’t exactly reflect well on me.” I looked up at him. “I was with Quinn because there was no reason not to be. We got along. I liked him as a friend. The guy I really wanted to be with wasn’t showing any signs that he felt the same. So I settled for what I could get.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sor—”
“Yeah, I do. You know how long I’ve been wanting this? Since the third time I came to see you. Hell, maybe from the first time. I just didn’t realize it until the third. I was driving to see you. Had no reason to. Made an excuse. So I’m driving there. Got stuck at the border. Customs backup. Impatient as hell. Worried I’d get there too late. You’d be tired. Wouldn’t want to talk. That’s when I realized it. How I felt. Turned around. Pulled into the nearest pay phone. Called and said I couldn’t make it.”
“I remember that.”
“Yeah. Turned tail and ran. Month later? Talked myself down. You needed help. I could give it. Shouldn’t turn my back on you. Keep it what it was. Good enough. So I went back. Three fucking years of that. Run away. Come back. Try to be what you needed. What I thought you wanted. Even if I’d thought you wanted more? Not sure it would have changed anything. Getting involved with me? Fucking stupid. No point. Got nothing to offer. You deserve better.”
I tried to cut in, but he wouldn’t let me.
“If I cared about you?” he continued. “I’d want what’s best for you. Which is not me. Quinn comes along? Start thinking maybe that’s it. Much as it hurt. Seemed good for you. Tried to rise above it. Couldn’t fucking do it. Ran again. Left you hanging.”
“Egypt,” I murmured. When Jack had begun staring the possibility of retirement in the face, we’d discussed things he might want to do. There wasn’t much on his list, but he did want to see Egypt. Just not alone. So I’d offered to go, and it seemed like a plan and then . . . and then it wasn’t.
“Yeah. I knew if we went? The two of us? On vacation? I’d let you know. So I stayed away. Hurt you more. Confused you and hurt you. Eventually, decided I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pretend. If I saw any sign you weren’t happy with Quinn? I was going to move. Stop whining that you deserved better. Take the risk. Be what you deserve. Make you happy.”
“You have always made me happy, Jack. You have always been what I deserve.” I put my arms around his neck as he lowered his mouth to mine. “And you have always been what I want.”
We lay on the forest floor, clothing scattered around us. It was getting cool, the sun dropping, but Jack hadn’t made a move to dress yet, so I wasn’t, either. I stretched out against him and enjoyed the moment. When he finally did stir, I rolled onto my side, but he reached out and tugged me back.
“Cold?” he said.
“Nope.”
“Few more minutes. No rush. Meeting my contact in the morning. So . . .” He stifled a yawn. “No rush.”
“Good.” I curled up against him. Something crackled under me. The condom wrapper. I pulled it out and lifted it. “May I suggest that after all this is over, we get a clean bill of health and I get myself on birth control? Otherwise, we may need to start buying in bulk.”
A chuckle. Then he sobered. “You want me to slow down? Just say so.”
“Yes, yes, I do, because I am very clearly not enjoying it. Can’t you tell by the way I just lay there, quietly. Very quietly.”
Another chuckle.
“If I want you to slow down, Jack, I will tell you to slow down. Admittedly, we are going through these”—I flicked the condom wrapper—“a little fast, but we’re both anxious and stressed and frustrated over this hit business. I don’t know about you, but it definitely helps for me.”