And hope it doesn’t ruin what today has started to build.
18
JACKAL
It’s not the sunlight that wakes me. It’s the remembering.
Memories force their way into my consciousness, reminding me that the warm body currently curled up against mine is Isla’s.
She never left.
Somehow, in the night, we were pulled together like two magnets. Both of us on our sides, her head tucked in against my chest. Even through the T-shirt I slept in, I can feel the warm puffs of her breath against my skin. One arm is wrapped around her, but the arm beneath her head is reaching out, touching Garrett’s warm shoulder.
Everything feels right with the world. But how they both came to be here is wrong.
As half-dreams and hazy memories give way to reality, I remember how it felt to watch Garrett spin along the asphalt. And how he spent most of the night wincing and groaning in pain. At four in the morning, I took a pillow and placed it under his knees because he complained his back ached. I wasn’t sure if it was injury related or just the fact he’d been lying on his back solong. But it was all I could think of to ease his discomfort beyond medication.
I lie where I am, almost too scared to breathe, in case I ruin this moment. Isla’s hair tickles my arm. Her legs shift with the barest twitch, like, even in sleep, she’s trying to get free.
It’s indulgent to lie here and let myself believe this is our life. That there are no bruised ribs beneath blankets and battered hearts above them. That there are no enemies with trucks or haunted pasts threatening the people curled up on the bed with me.
But given I’ve never been good at make-believe, I ease myself out of bed.
Isla stirs and sighs as I move but doesn’t fully wake up. Through what little light of dawn is coming through the curtains, I look at the two of them. My burly guardian and my sweetheart.
Garrett doesn’t stir, not even when I brush my hand down his forearm before slipping away. I’ve dumped the clothes I haven’t yet unpacked in the smallest bedroom, and it takes a moment to find everything I need to get dressed for the day.
The house is cool. I’m guessing it was frigid overnight. The air and weather here are fascinating to me. It’s starting to feel warm during the day, especially when the sun is out, but there’s still snow in some parts. And at night, the air is freezing.
Once downstairs, I adjust the thermostat, set the coffee to brew, and light the fire. Heat rises, at least, that’s what the science says, and hopefully, it will wind its way upstairs before the two sleepyheads wake. The fire catches fast, flames licking greedily at the bark.
I watch it for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. I wonder how different last night would have felt if Isla hadn’t come over. If she hadn’t made soup and fed Garrett and made sure I ate. If I hadn’t been able to sleep for a few hours because I would be waking every hour to care for him. If she hadn’ttouched both of us. Physically, and in some deep calming place we never talk about.
My phone pings, and I open the message.
Wren:Got a hit on a potential truck by searching make, model, and location. It’s registered to a storage unit property off Hollow Bend. Lease holder is Jared Casey. Reported it stolen from the airport. BUT. Guess what else. He’s got family. Kevin Humphrey, Isla’s uncle, is his cousin.
Kevin. That greasy fuck.
There’s an address attached.
My heart starts to beat faster. There’s a thread between them. A link. Who’s to say that Kevin didn’t know of Jared’s location and concoct a plan?
Isla never said it out loud, but I feel like there’s something more to her story with him. Like something bad happened between them, beyond her inheriting the house. Because if he’s this extreme over a dilapidated house, there’s a high chance he’s lost his shit with her over other things in their family.
The coffee pot gurgles suddenly, enough to make me jump from my thoughts. I pull a mug from the cupboard and pour myself a strong black coffee. Today, I’m gonna take a step to settle the score and need some of the club to back me, which Grudge already suggested they would.
I mean, I’m going anyway, but my odds and safety increase with backup. And the show of force would remind Kevin that you don’t get to hurt what’s ours and then walk away with clean hands.
There’s a creak behind me, and I turn, half expecting Garrett to have forced his way out of bed.
But it’s Isla. Her hair’s twisted up in a loose knot, her hoodie swallowing her frame. She looks rumpled and soft, and it takes everything in me to not reach for her, lift her up onto the kitchen island, and enjoy the comfort of her touch.
She pads into the kitchen instead of leaving, which I take to be a good sign. But she’s dressed and back in her sneakers, which tells me she might be leaving soon.
“You didn’t need to get up so early.”
Isla leans against the kitchen counter, elbows on the marble. “One thing I’ve realized since I stopped hanging around at the clubhouse so much is that I’m actually an early riser.” She tips her chin in the direction of the fire. “You got it started already?”
