Page 96 of The Bodyguard

“Not always.”

Hank was advancing on Jack now. Their voices were low and tight, but their body language was loud as hell.

“Don’t stand there and act like you deserve to be here. You know who you are, and you know what you did. You gave up the right to be part of this family. I’m here, every day, picking up the pieces of everything you shattered. This is my family, not yours—and when I tell you to get the hell out, you go.”

Hank had been building like a wave ready to crash.

I rooted for Jack to lift his hands, take a step back, and defuse the situation.

But he went the other way.

“Fuck you,” Jack said.

And it was just the permission Hank had been waiting for. He drew his fist up like an archer, ready to let fly—

But I stepped in and caught it.

Caught his wrist, more specifically, and twisted it down by his side. Hank let out a grunt of pain.

Safe to say Hank did not see that coming. And neither did Jack.

The surprise broke the moment.

“We’re not doing this here,” I said.

In the silence that followed, the murmuring of the waiting room got loud.

I grabbed both of their elbows, clamped tight, and steered them around the corner toward the vending machines.

Whatever they were fighting about was bigger than this moment. But this moment was the only thing I could solve.

“Jack, you’re coming with me,” I said. And before he could protest, I added, “The entire waiting room is staring at you.”

“You think I care about that right now? People stare at me all the time.” His face was tense.

“I get it, but there’s a bigger picture.”

“This is my mom we’re talking about.”

I turned to Hank. “Go be with your folks. We’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

But Hank didn’t need my instructions—or my permission. After blinking at me, like What the hell? for a second, he turned and left without a word.

“We need to find you a room to hide in,” I said to Jack.

“That’s what I was trying to do,” Jack said, his voice tight like a wire. “He won’t tell me the room number.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because he’s an asshole.”

Just then, a gaggle of teenage girls rounded the far end of the hallway.

On instinct, I reached to the back of his head to pull his face down toward my shoulder. “Keep your head down,” I whispered into his ear, keeping an eye on them. “Pretend I’m comforting you.”

Jack didn’t fight me. He leaned down and buried his face in the crook of my neck, as I pulled him closer with both arms to cover as much of him as possible.

Just as the girls went past, I felt his arms come around me and tighten.