Page 24 of Jack Rabbit (Dark Trails #1)

24

ADAIR

W hen I get off work, I’m not sure where to go. Back to Jack’s house? I’m afraid I’ll feel weird being there when he isn’t home, even though he gave me a key. The park? It would probably be just as awkward running into him there.

I remember the back deck at Jack’s house and sigh with relief. That feels like an acceptable compromise. I stack my boxes of books up against the back of the sofa like Jack said to before heading outside with my tablet.

It’s a super-nice deck. The glimpse I got of it last night didn’t do it justice. It runs the length of the house. Beyond that is a backyard with a fire pit, then nothing but dense forest. It’s a sweet setup. I amble from one end to the other like I belong here.

There’s a wooden staircase leading to a second, smaller deck that I realize must be off the sleeping loft. The view from up here is even nicer. I peer inside through the sliding glass door, feeling only a little like a creep and telling myself it doesn’t count as snooping if I’m not actually setting foot inside.

The big four-poster bed makes my dick twitch, but it’s a regular loft otherwise. No weird sex stuff. There’s a big topographical map of the entire park on the back wall. I see that Jack is apparently one of those people who makes his bed every day. Noted. I’ll pull the blankets on the sofa into some semblance of order when I go back inside.

I return to the lower deck, eyeing a pair of Adirondack chairs decorated with carvings of wildlife. After buttoning my heavyweight flannel shirt to ward off the chill, I settle down into one of them. I’m trying to get into a new book, but I keep getting distracted, my gaze drifting out to the trees as I puzzle over what to say to Jack when he gets home.

W hen the sliding door squeaks open, I look up, but Jack barely flicks a glance in my direction. I might as well be a squirrel sitting here. He walks straight past the other chair and leans his elbows on the back rail, staring out at the rapidly darkening trees without a word.

I take it back. He would’ve sat down next to a squirrel.

“It’ll take a little bit, but I’ll pay you back for the battery.” That was what I finally settled on. I thought it showed initiative, which I figured he would appreciate. But I guess I was wrong, because Jack is frowning when he turns around.

“A thank-you would be fine,” he says coolly.

It’s like all of the awkwardness and anxiety about this whole situation, all of my stress and embarrassment, is a rubber band that’s been getting pulled tighter and tighter.

And it just let go.

“God, you’re fucking infuriating!” I shout. “Why are you even bothering with me if you hate my guts this much? What the hell are you trying to prove? I don’t get you. You’ll do something that makes you seem like you like me at least a little, then you act like you can’t stand me. Like, the thing with the fingerprint lock on my tablet. Like the aloe and the pants — I mean, I know you cut my other ones up, but the new ones were nice . Like replacing my car battery without even telling me.” I swing my arm around the deck. “And like this . Letting me stay here.”

As the words are coming out of my mouth, my brain is reminding me that the whole letting-me-stay-here thing is entirely dependent on Jack’s goodwill… which, judging from the look on his face, I just torpedoed.

“Were you yanking my chain about the virgin thing?” he asks.

That’s out-of-the-blue. “What? No, it was the truth.”

“Why tell me? Was that some kind of appeal to my sympathies? Were you trying to make me feel bad?” He pauses, breathing hard, as if he’s been running. “You were the one who pursued me.”

The barrage of questions makes me recoil. Not only does he hate me, but Jack apparently thinks the worst of me, too. “What? No! I just — I thought you’d be mad at me for not telling you if you somehow found out later.”

“How would I have found out?” he shoots back. “We both agreed that would be the last time.”

I shrug one shoulder. “I guess I’m still a little bit of an optimist,” I say.

“Well, you’re fucking wrong, because you’re not going to wear me down anymore.” His tone is still accusatory.

“Right, I know. Because I’m also just a little bit of an optimist,” I sigh. “I knew you might — no, probably — would be out of my life. And that was why I threw my dignity out the window and pestered you for that one last time.”

Jack doesn’t reply. I can feel my cheeks burning red as I admit, “I wanted my first to be you. Because I realized if it wasn’t — if six months or a year from now I met somebody — I’d be thinking about us and wondering what it would have been like with you instead.”

Jack’s face is somehow both completely dark and utterly expressionless at the same time. “There isn’t an us . There’s just you, and your pathetic attempts to make this something it isn’t.”

“That’s not fair,” I shoot back. “This entire fucking —” I swing my arm in a circle, “whatever you want to call it, has been on your terms. Yeah, I came back after that first time and said I wanted to do it again. But you agreed to it! And I’ve never asked you, never pushed you for anything more — I’ve never even had, like, a normal conversation with you. So if you’re mad at somebody, be mad at yourself for not knowing what you want out of this.”

“I’m not confused about what I’m getting out of this,” he retorts.

“Are you sure?” I know I sound like a brat at this point, but I don’t care anymore.

He turns without a word and starts to walk away, so I tell him the last thing that’s on my mind. “You know, I think you’d be a nice guy if you let yourself, but if you’re happier being a dick, I guess that’s your decision. I’d just — I’d rather not get mixed messages, OK?”

He whirls around. “I’m no good for you! Why can’t your dumb bunny brain process this?” he snarls, his voice rising.

“So show me why,” I fire back. “You keep saying I couldn’t handle what you want. So show me. Hit me. Hurt me. Break me. Make it bad enough that I hate your guts the way you hate mine. That will solve your problem, right? I’ll want nothing to do with you ever again.”

It’s so fucked up in its logic, and so logical in its fucked-up-ness. Jack blinks at me for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Come,” he says, walking back inside without turning to see if I follow him.