Page 10

10

Jack

I stayed at John and Marge’s on Friday night. They were Eloise's parents. I had gone to the pharmacy to pick up some condoms to keep in my wallet, and as I drove back, I knew I would meet more family members today at the barbecue. Meeting more of Eloise’s family sounded like a good idea—I thought I already knew most of them, until I pulled up to her parents' house and counted seven cars in the driveway.

She said it was just dinner.

She lied.

I knocked once, but before I could even pull my hand back, the door swung open. A woman who looked vaguely like Eloise but with louder lipstick and a mischievous smile stared up at me.

“You must be Jack Raider,” she said, dragging out my last name like it was something scandalous. “I’m Aunt Trudy. You’re taller than I remembered from your college days. Good arms. You lift weights, or is that just all natural?”

I blinked. “Uh—both?”

She cackled and shouted back over her shoulder, “Girls, he’s nervous! I like him already!”

That’s when Eloise appeared in the hallway, cheeks pink, eyes wide with panic. “Aunt Trudy, I swear on everything, do not scare him off before he even sits down.”

I grinned. “Too late. I already met her.”

Eloise elbowed me as she pulled me inside. “I’m so sorry. Some people in my family are teasers, and they’ll tease you to death if you let them. We’ll put a stop to it right away. Okay?” She said, watching me.

“Okay,” I said, smiling.

The house smelled like fresh rolls, roasted garlic, and impending chaos. A table that could seat twelve in the dining room was crammed with enough food for thirty. Another table was set up with kids all around it. Grandma stood at the head, holding a glass of sweet tea like a gavel.

“You must be Jack,” someone else said, studying me like a suspicious judge on a cooking show.

“Yes,”

She paused. I’m Sandra Nate’s and Eloise’s sister. You’ve got kind eyes.”

“I told you,” Mable piped up from the kitchen. “I knew he had kind eyes. I told you, didn’t I, Judy?”

“Mable, I’m Sandra.” She said with a chuckle.

“Let the man sit down before you start planning the wedding,” someone shouted from the back. I think it was John.

Eloise groaned.

We finally made it to the table, and to my surprise, I wasn’t grilled too badly. There were a few awkward questions—“How many women have you dated in the last year?” and “Do you know how to change a tire or are you one of those tech guys?”—but mostly, they were warm. Loud. Loving.

And I could see exactly where Eloise got her fire from.

After dinner, Grandma pulled me aside while the rest of the family fought over who was doing the dishes.

“Be kind to her,” she said, giving me the evil eye.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But,” she added, her tone softening, “if you’re here to stay… I’m glad she picked someone who can keep up.”

That night, as Eloise walked me out to my truck, I took her hand. “I like them,” I said.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. They’re insane. But they’re yours. And they made me feel welcome.”

She leaned into me, arms around my waist. “Well, if you can survive Trudy, you can survive anything.”

“I survived war zones. Trudy might still top the list.”

She laughed, and I kissed her right there, beneath the stars and the porchlight, with her family yelling about cobbler in the background.

“If I didn’t have to give Nate and Frasier a ride home, I would follow you to your place.”

“The next time we want to be together, we won’t tell anyone,” she said, pulling me down for another kiss. I was hard in a second. I rubbed against her to show how much I wanted to stay.

“That feels so good. Don’t wait too long before you come back.” I heard the others walking out and took a step back from her.

“I won’t,” I said.

I should’ve been exhausted after a long week and an evening spent dodging invasive questions, unsolicited marriage advice, and enough fried food to stop a strong man’s heart—but instead, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Eloise’s family had completely overwhelmed me. And weirdly? I loved it.

I drove home in silence, letting the night settle into me. When I got there, the house was dark, the kind of quiet I used to crave. But now it felt… too still. Wolf walked over. I walked him outside and let him do his thing for the night.

I kicked off my boots, walked into the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of water. I stood there for a minute, staring at the clock on the stove, thinking about the way Eloise’s family was how fun they were and how close all of them were.

I’d been protected before. By men in uniform. Brothers. Teammates. But this was different.

This was family.

And it had taken me thirty-something years to find it.

I grabbed my phone and texted Eloise.

Me : Tell Trudy if she ever needs a wingman for karaoke night, I’m her guy.

Eloise : Oh god. She’s going to love that. I hope you’re ready to become her emergency contact.

Me : Already added her to my favorites list.

Eloise : You’re insane. But… I’m glad you were there. They like you.

Me : I liked them too. But I like you more.

Eloise : …

Me : Too soon?

Eloise : No. Just smiling too hard to type.

I tossed my phone on the counter and ran a hand through my hair. I couldn’t remember the last time something felt this easy. Not without complications, sure—Eloise and I had our fair share of history and chaos—but still… this felt right.

I looked around my empty house, my clean counters, the military-sharp corners of my bed that no one ever messed up.

And I thought—

Maybe it’s time to make space.

Not just physically.

Emotionally.

For her.

For the dogs.

For the noise, the love, the messy, hilarious family dinners.

For something real.

I took a deep breath, walked down the hall, and paused in the doorway to the guest room. I hadn’t used it much, but it suddenly seemed like the perfect place to set up a second dog bed, or two. Wait how many animals does she have? Or maybe a reading chair for someone who likes to curl up and binge Housewives of Atlanta .

Yeah.

It was time.

Time to let someone in.

Not just for a night.

I was halfway through texting Eloise goodnight when my phone lit up with a different kind of message that hit like a punch to the gut.

From Fraiser:

Need you. Missing girl. Malibu. Leaving tonight. Details in the email.

Just like that, everything shifted.

I stared at the message, then back at my half-written text to Eloise:

I erased it.

Instead, I called her.

“Hey,” she answered on the second ring, her voice soft and sleepy.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to leave tonight. A mission came up.”

She was quiet for a second. “Is it bad?”

“Could be. Seventeen-year-old girl, her name is Pamela. Thought she could survive in Malibu with three hundred bucks and a dream. She’s been missing four days. Her friend finally cracked and told the family where she went.”

“Oh no,” Eloise whispered.

“Yeah. She’s scared, and probably broke by now, and on the street. We’re not waiting for the local PD to treat her like just another runaway. Her mom called Fraiser. She wants her daughter found now .”

“Be careful,” she said. “And call me. Even if it’s just to let me know you’re okay.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I will. I promise.”

After we hung up, I packed fast—just a backpack, a burner phone, a change of clothes, and a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it: a last-known sighting of a blonde girl near a soup kitchen off the Pacific Coast Highway. She’d been seen crying behind a dumpster.

I stared at that line longer than I should’ve.

Because no kid should end up like that. Not ever.

Pamela had made a mistake. She wanted freedom, sunshine, a chance to be someone. But she wasn’t prepared for the sharks swimming beneath the surface. Not in a city like Malibu, where a smile can be a trap and a hundred-dollar bill can come with the wrong kind of strings.

This wasn’t just a rescue.

It was a race.

And I wasn’t planning on losing.