“What?” My brows raise of their own accord, though she’s not far off base. My dad may have designed this place—he was a renowned architect—and my mum may have furnished it, but for the past eight years, I’ve made it a home. How Jenna could possibly know that after spending five minutes in my presence is beyond me.
“Am I wrong?”
“We share the house.” I shrug, not knowing how else to respond.
“Oh, I know. But I’m willing to bet you don’t share responsibilities."
“Do you need something?” I change the subject, not at all interested in a deep and meaningful conversation.
“Another bottle?” Jenna points to the empty bottle of vodka on the bench beside her and I cringe, biting back a remark. She’s not my problem, I remind myself. She doesn’t need me telling her what she can and can’t do, though my head is screaming at me to beg her to slow down. To be careful. She doesn't know these people. Hell, she doesn’t know me. Or Jack. Outside of his letters.
“Do…you…know where I can find one?” she enunciates slowly when I don’t respond. “Jack mentioned—”
“Yep. Above the fridge.”
“Thanks.” Her smile brightens and she reaches up again, but this time I turn away, avoiding the peep show, refusing to look back until she’s gone.
When the party dies down a few hours later, I’m already inside when Jack stumbles in, his arm wrapped around Jenna’s shoulder as she whispers in his ear. Giggling.
She pauses when she spots me, her deep brown eyes raking over me, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. It’s so goddamn seductive that I bite back a groan.
“I’m taking Jenna to bed,” Jack tells me, oblivious to her ogling. “She’ll be in the room across from mine.”
I nod, sucking in a breath as he guides her up the stairs, and it’s not until he returns a few minutes later that I finally relax.Thank fuck. He didn’t take advantage of her. I shouldn’t have doubted him. He’s a better guy than I give him credit for. But still… If that had been Kai…I wouldn’t have held back from kicking his ass.
“I’m going to get her some painkillers and water,” he says, heading toward the kitchen. “Jenna’s going to have the mother of all hangovers when she wakes in the morning.” He laughs, while my insides churn.
“Aren’t you worried about her?” She wasn’t drinking that much until the conversation turned to Christmas. And she loves Christmas. At least that’s what I was led to believe.
Jack frowns, tossing his head in nonchalance. “She’s always been the life of the party. Remember she told me about that festival back home in Vermont? She was so drunk, she woke up in the sleigh from a Christmas display.” He laughs again, and the knot in my stomach tightens.
What do both events have in common?Christmas. My eyes flash to the stairs and I school my features, hiding my concern.
“You’re probably right. I don’t know her like you do.”
“Not even close, big bro.” He winks and I force a half-assed smile. “I’m gonna grab Jenna’s stuff and head off to bed. I need my beauty sleep for the big day I have planned tomorrow.”
“Big day?”
“Yep. I’m taking Jenna out. Showing her the sights Sydney has to offer.”
“It’s going well then?”
“So fucking good. It’s like old times. You’d think no time had passed.”
I clench my teeth as I hold my grin. “Good to hear, man. Good to hear.”
He walks away and my chest burns, but I refuse to acknowledge what that means. She’s Jenna. Jack’s Jenna. And that’s all she’ll ever be.
CHAPTER SIX
Jenna
My head throbs behind my eyes and a groan rumbles from my throat. I’m not ready to wake up. Covering my face, I prepare for the brightness to attack me, but it’s surprisingly dark and not at all as bad as I expected. The smell of coffee permeates the air as I fumble around for my phone, checking the time with a frown. Nine a.m. How is it dark? And where the hell am I?
Vague flashes of dancing and laughter dart through my mind and my head catches up. Jack walked me to bed last night. I can’t remember everything that happened, but that fact is clear as day. Because I panicked. I’m not someone that turns a guy down if we’ve been having fun together—and Jack was a blast. Only, just like back in our sophomore year, my gut instinct told me not to go there. Not yet anyway. No matter how often I think about his last letter, talking to him reminds me of the innocent guy he was back in college. Myfriend. It turns out, I’m not ready to fuck that up.
The ache in my head turns to a pounding when I try to sit up, but as I rub my temples, my eyes lock on the nightstand and my heart races.
