Jack’s always been a protector. I’ve missed that. Having a person in my life who has my back. An ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on. Arms to run to when I got myself into trouble.
I hold out the to-go cup full of hot coffee. “It’s been a while, but I think I remember how you take it.”
He hesitates, his focus dropping from my face. Another one of those moments where he can’t look at me.
“It’s coffee, Jack. It’s not gonna bite your hand off,” I say, forcing a smile as I press it into his chest.
With a small breath out, he takes it and brings the cup to his lips.
“Well?” I ask. “Did I get it right?”
This time, the smile he gives me is genuine. “Been a hot minute since I’ve had caramel in my coffee. Forgot how sweet you like your caffeine.”
I laugh. “Got it. No shot of caramel next time.”
“No, I like it. Guess I stopped adding it at some point. Don’t remember when, though.”
“Too tough for sugary coffee? You’re a real one now, Grave Man.”
Chuckling, he takes another swig.
My chest tightens. Other than the odd “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Birthday” text, it’s been almost five years since Jack and I have had a conversation. And even then, our talks were short. Quick phone calls. A video chat here and there. It was jarring at first, how quickly the distance between us grew, how easy it was for him to stop calling, to stop responding to messages.
He was busy,he said. Axe was in jail. The club was in shambles.
I understood.
Club first, family second.
At some point we stopped being family. After so many unreturned calls, I stopped trying. I moved on. I’m not mad. Not anymore. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt like hell.
“You… talk to your brother much these days?” I ask him.
He tilts his head. “Linc? Uh, sometimes. Small town and all. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say casually. “We spent some time in a cell together the other night. Just… trying to get the vibe on him, I guess. He seems different.”
With a shrug, he says, “Vibe is the same as it’s always been. He’s on one side, we’re on another.”
Right. Except it’s not like that at all. But club business is on a need-to-know.
“Don’t call him my brother, all right?” he says, darting a look at me. “I’ve managed to keep that little fun fact on the down low, and I’d like it to stay that way. Far as anyone’s concerned, my only brothers are the ones who wear the patch.”
With a nod, I slide onto one of the stools lining the marble-topped island, taking in the brightly lit kitchen, the colourful walls.
Jack watches me, his scrutiny making my stomach twist.
“This place seems too clean for you,” I say to break the tension.
He hums, green eyes softening a fraction. “Yeah, that’s Triss. She doesn’t have much room for disorder. And since I like my balls where they are, I just do what she says.”
A snort escapes me as I pick up my coffee. “I was surprised to see who you ended up with. I creeped her on Instagram a few times. It was hard to picture you with someone like her. Someone so… I don’t know. Put together. But then I met her.” I let out a light laugh. “She’s mean. I like it. She seems good for you.”
“She is. She’s ah”—he rubs the back of his neck—“she’s my family.”
Family. I’mhis family. But we’ve both forgotten that.
Rather than let that thought simmer, I change the subject.
