Page 84 of His to Burn

But not even a second passed before I accepted that was complete bullshit.

I mean, what was there to process?

He’d done it because he didn’t think he had a choice.

And I’d said what I said because my mouth got ahead of my brain.

A doubly stupid mistake because if today had taught me nothing else, it underscored that I was completely ill-equipped to deal with this world.

I needed Jack.

Not in some fluffy, nebulous way.

I needed him like I needed oxygen, because like oxygen, Jack kept me alive.

Processing that, having it shoved into my face in such an undeniable way, had me as shaken up as I’d been since that elevator had gone dark.

Because needing someone—relying on someone—was completely alien to me.

Relying on people left you vulnerable. And a long time ago, I promised myself that I wouldneverbe vulnerable.

These last days taught me a painful truth: I couldn’t rely on myself, and that was scarier than any monster or any gun freak looting houses could ever be.

If I’d accepted that a minute sooner, I wouldn’t be in the mess I found myself in now.

Now I had to figure out how to clean it up.

Wondered if Icouldclean it up.

I went to the bathroom, adjusted my clothes, and then took a moment to look in the mirror.

It seemed like the same Asia that always greeted me. But there was a weight in my eyes that wasn’t there before. One that I knew would be much heavier without Jack, assuming I would have even made it this long.

Because despite the circumstances—as confusing and horrific as they were—Jack brought an ease, a lightness to those moments that were so dark. And that might be gone now, all because I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut.

“Get yourself together, girl,” I muttered in the mirror.

I took a quick shower, and then left the bedroom.

Jack was in the bar area.

“We’ll have the last of the judge’s spaghetti and a can of peas for dinner,” he said.

I was surprised he spoke first, but on second thought, I clocked what was happening.

Logistics were one of Jack’s specialties, so he focused on those, the nuts and bolts of what it took to stay alive.

And avoided everything else.

“Can I help?” I asked.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even look in my direction.

I cleared my throat. “Jack…”

“I told you I got it,” he said, not even attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

My hackles raised—but only because I felt called out.