Chapter 17
“You think we should get this little guy in bed?” Callie asked. “The cold weather and snow tuckered him out. And it’s past his bedtime. He’s not used to being up this late.”
Jonathan was half asleep in Jack’s lap, his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth.
“Well, I’m going to slip a movie into my laptop and snuggle into bed,” Heather informed them. “If you stay up here, make sure to shut off all the lights when you’re done.”
“I may do a little work myself once I get Jonathan in bed. Jack, do you need any help?”
Biting back the retort that wanted to jump from his mouth, he got unsteadily to his feet but insisted, “I’m fine. I need to take a shower so I’ll go down with you. I can put Jonathan in his bed.”
Callie started to argue but he picked up the child, gritting his teeth at the discomfort and maneuvered his way downstairs. The railing was needed to help but he wasn’t so injured he couldn’t carry his own son.
Once Jonathan was tucked snugly in his bed, he stood staring down at the boy. This should be an every night occurrence. Being here with him like this twisted the knife even deeper, knowing it couldn’t continue. Every second would be one he’d remember though. With Cabrini gunning for him, he might not have another chance to spend time with Jonathan.
Leaning down he pressed a light kiss to the boy’s forehead then walked across the hall to his darkened room. After removing his clothes, he entered the bathroom. The door to Callie’s bedroom was partially open. He swallowed a few pain pills, hoping they and the shower would help ease the drumming in his head.
“Jack, do you need any help?”
Her continued concern felt nice. “I’m fine. Simply taking a shower.”
“I’ll be right here if you get dizzy. Just call out.”
Dizzy, yeah, thinking about Callie made his mind dizzy. Ever since he’d first seen her, he’d lost all ability to reason. Nothing had changed since then.
Adjusting the water, he stepped under the spray, his wrist twinging at the movement. The water pressure in the trailer he occupied was pitiful. This was heavenly. The one thing that could make it better was Callie joining him.Don’t count on it, pal, it won’t happen.She’d made that abundantly clear.
Images of the two of them entwined on her bed flashed through his mind. They’d showered together many times then become one on the bathroom floor, the bedroom, anywhere they could. Despair sliced through him at how long it had been since they’d experienced that.
When he reached for the soap, his shaky hand caught on the shampoo bottle and it toppled to the floor.I’ll get it in a minute.The water would hopefully wash away this melancholy infiltrating right down to his soul.
Lathered and rinsed, he bent over, grunting at the sharp pain in his ribs. Yeah, there might be something cracked there.
His senses tingled as he poured shampoo in his hand. Callie hovered near the door, peeking in to check on him. Ever the mother hen, worried he couldn’t handle taking a shower by himself. It didn’t rankle as much as he thought it would. The fantasies of her always being there to worry about him were strong.
As he scrubbed his hair, a wave of hopelessness washed over him. This day of family bliss had been great but it wasn’t real. Hadn’t ever been real. And it never would be if he couldn’t get his shit together and take down Victor. In three years he hadn’t gotten all that far. Would he ever? Victor had so many people in his pocket it was freakin’ impossible to find or keep any evidence. He was only one man. Too many factors played against him. Damn.
The pain in his skull beat a rhythm that threatened to drive him crazy. The aches and pains from his various bruises conspired with years of solitude, sending fear and desolation coursing through him. He’d been here before. On the brink of madness, wondering if it was all worth it. Running for his life, day after day, year after year, for what? A glimpse of his son and the woman who heated his blood. Then he’d lose them again until the next opportunity.
His breathing picked up and he leaned against the shower wall, letting the warm spray wash over his trembling body. It wasn’t working. The water wasn’t relaxing him the way it should. Instead he was drowning, going under for the third time, unable to get enough oxygen.
“Jack.”
Callie’s sweet voice brought him to the surface, keeping him afloat as he fought to get back on solid ground.Don’t have a fucking meltdown in front of her.He was supposed to be the strong one. The one to rescue her. Damn.Get a hold of yourself, man.
“I’m fine, Callie.” His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Would she be disgusted at his lack of strength? Maybe it was best. So many thoughts ran through his mind about getting rid of Victor. And all came with risks. But he’d risk everything to get Callie and his son away from that monster. Even his own life. They were all that mattered.
The shower door slid open and Callie stood there, anxiety flooding her eyes. Reaching in, she turned off the water then stood staring at him. The warmth and desire he saw cut through him like a knife.You don’t deserve this, don’t deserve her.But right now he needed her, needed whatever she was willing to give.
“Calico.” It was all that would come out and even it sounded strangled.
He reached for her and she stepped forward allowing him to hold her. To feed from her strength. His own strength had slid down the drain with the dirty water. There was barely enough left to hold her tight. Her arms tightened too.
“Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”
Didn’t he wish she meant those words one way when her purpose was simply to make him rest. That was the last thing on his mind. He needed to lose himself in Callie, in her beautiful warmth and loving arms.
Leaning against her as they walked to the bed, he sank onto the side. He lowered his head into his hands, the reflection of the moon on the snow-covered hills shining in through the slider. There wasn’t any other light in the room and he hoped it hid his despair. He didn’t want Callie to see him this way. A towel appeared and she patted his skin, rubbed it through his hair then placed it on his lap. Always one for propriety, his Calico.
