He sobbed. “Oh, God, Myrtle. Why? Why am I this way?”
“It’s not your fault, love. Not your fault.” She pulled back and brushed his hair away from his face so she could look him in the eyes. “Sometimes the world is a terrible, cruel place, beyond all reason.” She cupped his face in her palms, forcing him to hear what she had to say. “But you have to keep looking up, love. You have to.”
His jaw trembled as they cried together over such bitter truths.
“We have a duty to see that the sun still comes up.” Her words broke like crashing waves, spilling out in whimpers and tears. “Breathe when the air is fresh and cool. Stop for the flowers when they bloom and laugh at the foolish things nature gets up to when nobody’s watching.” Her thumbs traced his cheekbones, wiping away his tears. “We have to keep witnessing the good, Jack, so the bad don’t swallow us whole.”
She held his gaze with the steady, unshakable certainty of a woman who survived her own horrors and chose, every single day, to find the light anyway.
“There will always be bad people. Always. But they don’t outweigh the good. And this world, for all its ugliness, is still a beautiful place.” Her voice softened to barely a breath. “Every life, even the broken ones, is still worth living. Do not waste it. People want to love you, Jack, but you have to let them.” She pressed her forehead gently to his. “You have to believe you’re worth loving.”
It took Jack days to read through the messages waiting for him. By the time he reached the end of his inbox, he lacked the energy to respond to a single one.
He didn’t care about any of it anymore.
He only cared about Daisy. His Walden. His green light in the dark.
Rather than respond to the outside world, he focused on his world. He had Nick replace the files Daisy had destroyed and dig a little deeper. Every waking moment revolved around small steps that came without promises.
He wouldn’t be like the others. Couldn’t deal in transactions meant to pressure certain outcomes. So he did only what he could, with a clear conscience, and without expectation.
He would always love her. Across any distance. Through any length of time. He didn’t need her to love him back. He needed to accept that his love for her was a part of him now, as present as his pain and as permanent as his scars.
Unconditional.
Jack sifted through the file Nick had left on his desk, finding everything he needed to make his next move. His head lifted as voices drifted from the hall—Nick’s and a much deeper one.
He closed the file as their footsteps neared. He knew that if he ignored the calls long enough, this visit would eventually come.
“Sir, you have a visitor.” Nick stepped aside as Wolf moved in like a blinding fog, demanding full attention.
“Thank you, Nick.”
Nick backed out of the room, and Jack waved Wolf to the seat in front of his desk.
He didn’t sit immediately, because Wolf never committed to a position in any room until he’d surveyed it first, cataloging exits and occupants and the precise emotional temperature of the space with the same cold efficiency that built his empire.
Taller than most men, he carried his age the way old cathedrals carry grandeur—in a way that made deterioration look intentional.
White hair swept back from his broad forehead, impeccably groomed, as his perceptive eyes—paler than a January sky—held the flat, unblinking patience of someone who planned to outlive his own mortality and every enemy.
Wolf mentored him the way a sculptor raises a monument, with purpose and precision, chipping away everything soft until only the useful remained. He showed Jack how the world really worked. Not through parliaments or courtrooms but through favors and fear.
The leather chair creaked as he lowered himself into it with the practiced ease of a man who understood the power of stillness. One leg crossed over the other as his liver-spotted hands folded, and his gaze settled on Jack.
“You look like shit.”
“I haven’t been sleeping?—”
“I didn’t come here to discuss your habits of repose.” A strange, manufactured refinement shaped every syllable of his words. “Though it concerns me. You’ve gone dark, Jack. Four weeks without returning a single call. That’s not like you.”
Jack leaned back in his chair. While Wolf might have employed him once upon a time, those days were long gone. “So?”
“You’ve been hiding.” The accusation carried more truth than malice. “Cowards hide.”
Jack would normally agree. But rather than defend himself, he sat back and examined his cuticles. Some men took vacations every spring. Others migrated to warmer climates in winter. And some even wasted entire summers on beaches in the countryside.
Jack did none of that. And he was not going to waste a single fucking breath justifying his decision to take time off for the first time in his entire life.
