Page 18 of From Hell

He stares at me for a pause and then unceremoniously places his wallet on the table. “I’d rather give you a blank check.”

I stare at him and the wallet for a second. “What?”

“Money is the best form of altruism, is it not?”

I’m wondering what to say to that when he catches my eye, smiles, and winks, filling the space with delayed charm. I blink at him. “You’re teasing me.”

His eyes flash with something I can’t decipher. “You’ve changed, Elaine. No longer a damsel needing to be saved.”

Is that how he saw me back then? I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Well, you haven’t changed one bit,” I huff, finally finding my voice. Jaxon is just as privileged as I remember him. “And it’s Laine.”

He stares at me a while longer. “No. I don’t suppose I have, Laine.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence, and I shift in my chair. Miles brings Jaxon over an amber-looking liquid in a lowball glass, eyeing me with an appreciative grin. “I’ll put it on your tab, Jax.” Jaxon’s eyes seem to narrow at the male attention I’m getting, but that could be my imagination. He waits until Miles leaves before resuming his study of me.

I cock my head at him, studying back. Is he jealous? I never thought I’d see Jaxon again, never mind being in a pub with him, not after what he did. It seems like a lifetime ago and such a stupid thing to accuse him of now.

“You look like you’re deep in thought.”

I let out a sigh. “I never thought you’d come back to Whitechapel.”

He shrugs. “You did.”

“Why did you move away?”Why did you ghost me?

“Work, family commitments, expectations I had to meet,” he says without missing a beat. “And you?”

“Dad convinced Mum to move to London after university.” It’s partially true.

“Didn’t want to stay in Whitechapel?”

“No. Whitechapel was where I grew up. It had become small. London had more opportunities for my dad’s police career.”

“Not anymore?”

I shrug. “My parents split up. Mum’s family is here. So now, I’m back and part of the Harvest parade.”

Jaxon’s smile melts away at the mention of the holiday. Mentally, I berate myself. It’s common knowledge his mother died when he was only eleven years old, on Harvest Day, from an overdose of the medication she was on to deal with her myriad health issues. Jaxon was the one who found the body.

His sister died from heart failure a year later during the same holiday season, weeks later at Halloween. Again, Jack found the body. Not long after, his nanny went missing when she was supposed to look after Jaxon. Rumors have it she burned to death, trapped inside a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Day—a trinity of horror around Fall.

I wasn’t sure how much was true until I started researching his family after Jaxon broke Addison’s hand.

Small towns make for a lot of scary stories growing up. I found countless articles and press releases, with little or no insight into his personal life. It’s as if he never had one. Still doesn’t. Apart from attending events hosted by his father, his university, and his work, Jaxon is a ghost: no best friends or past girlfriends, just a brilliant medical career full of accolades and awards.

One would wonder what all that death and loss does to a young boy with so much potential, a boy who has everything but lost so much—he grows up to become a brilliant and wealthy surgeon who is asunreachable as the stars, New Medicine’s quote, not mine.

And someone capable of ruining someone’s career as a surgeon just for touching me.

“I appreciate your help,” I say hesitantly.

A sly smile tugs at Jaxon’s lips as he feigns innocence. “Help? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

I shake my head, the memories of our past encounters still fresh in my mind. “For this.” I lift my arm with the stitches so he knows I’m not thanking him for Addison.

His smirk deepens, and he leans in slightly. “It was my pleasure, Laine.”