Page 61 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

T he war never really stopped. Not for a moment.

It thrummed beneath everything, but tonight, it wasn’t noise she noticed.

It was the silence. Lizzie had gone to the cinema with her cousin which was bound to involve dancing afterwards, no doubt.

Catherine was in prison, and the absence of her sharp voice and quicker opinions left a shape in the flat that Ellie couldn’t fill.

The clock ticked, too loudly. Ellie didn’t even realise she’d been standing still in the middle of the room until the telephone rang.

She lifted the receiver.

‘Ellie,’ came Jack’s voice, and the sound of her name in his mouth sent unexpected heat through her chest. ‘How are you?’

The question was simple, but something in his tone made her throat catch. She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, suddenly grateful for the support. ‘Honestly?’ she said, surprising herself with the admission. ‘I’ve got potatoes. And tinned carrots. I’m making a stew if you fancy it.’

The silence that followed felt charged, as if he was weighing more than just dinner. When his chuckle crackled back through the line, it carried an energy that made her stomach flutter.

‘You spoil me.’

‘You’re more than welcome,’ she said, her voice softer than she’d intended. ‘Just don’t expect anything too grand.’

‘I don’t need grand, Ellie,’ he said, warmth evident in his voice. ‘It sounds wonderful.’

***

Her kitchen was narrow enough that when Jack moved past her to reach for plates, his hand brushed her waist, and her heart skipped a beat.

Drifts of his cologne mingled with the steam from the stew, and when she reached for the salt, he was suddenly there behind her, his chest almost touching her back as he steadied the cupboard door that never quite shut properly.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured, his voice low and close to her ear. ‘Narrow quarters.’

She turned in the small space between him and the counter, suddenly finding herself trapped by his proximity.

For a second, they stood frozen, his eyes dark and searching, her lips slightly parted, the air between them charged.

Then the kettle shrieked, breaking the spell, and they both stepped back with nervous laughter.

Jack set the table without being prompted, much to Ellie’s surprise. Knives and forks and two dinner plates. The stew simmered on the stove. It was mostly carrots, potatoes and salt, but it smelled like comfort. When it was ready, she dished it up onto the waiting plates.

Jack took a bite, nodded, then glanced at her. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘for someone who claims to be rubbish in the kitchen, this is bloody good.’

Ellie gave a small snort. ‘That’s the salt. And lowered expectations.’

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. ‘You undersell yourself. In cooking and everything else.’

She waved a hand, brushing his comment off. ‘Don’t start.’

‘I’m serious, Ellie.’ His tone shifted, still light, but sincere underneath. ‘You were the turning point in this case. Your instincts, your attention to detail. Without you, we wouldn’t have got there in time.’

The praise made her uncomfortable, not because it wasn’t welcome, but because of the way he was looking at her – as if she was a precious jewel that needed to be protected.

‘I didn’t defuse the bomb,’ she said quietly.

‘No,’ Jack said, reaching across the small table to cover her hand with his. ‘But you’re the reason we found it. You saw what others missed. That matters. You matter.’

His thumb traced gentle circles across her knuckles, and she found herself staring at their joined hands, marvelling at how right it felt.

Then his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. ‘If you ever need anything like a second opinion or just a friendly ear … I’m here. Always.’

She looked up to find him watching her with an expression so tender it made her breath catch. ‘Is this your polite way of saying I look like I’m falling apart?’

‘No,’ he said, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. ‘This is my not-so-polite way of saying I care what happens to you. More than I should. More than is probably wise.’

The admission hung between them like a confession, and Ellie felt her heart race against her ribs.

After they had finished eating and cleared the dishes, Ellie rummaged through Lizzie’s modest record collection, which was a blend of jazz, classical and a few Glen Miller tunes.

She picked one of the latter, blowing dust off the sleeve.

Then she lit a few stubby candles, placing them around the sitting room.

Their small flames cast flickering shadows against the walls.

Outside, London was a silhouette beneath the blackout.

Inside, it felt as though they’d spun a cocoon of soft, honeyed light.

As she swayed to the opening notes of ‘Moonlight Serenade’, she caught Jack’s eye. He held out his hand without a word, his eyes holding a question that made her chest ache.

She hesitated, heart hammering. Taking his hand would change everything. But as the soft melody filled the candlelit room, she slipped her fingers into his, and her blood raced.

They moved together as if they’d been doing this for years, as if they belonged in each other’s arms. Jack’s hand splayed warm against her back, and his heartbeat pounded where her hand rested on his chest. When she looked up, she found him watching her with such naked longing that it made her dizzy.

‘This is dangerous,’ she said, voice low.

Jack’s lips twitched. ‘So’s everything, these days.’

The deep chimes of Big Ben rang out across the city.

Nine o’clock. Jack stilled. Around London, she knew, people were stopping, stepping out of pubs, pausing on street corners, gathering by wireless sets.

Major Tudor Pole’s simple idea had grown into something sacred: a city, a nation, joined in hope for nine moments each evening.

Even the King participated, and somewhere across the Atlantic, Roosevelt too.

Jack’s hand tightened on hers as the final chime faded. ‘Every night,’ he murmured. ‘The whole city praying together.’

‘Do you think it helps?’ she whispered.

‘Tonight it does,’ he said, lifting his hand to cup her face. His thumb traced her cheekbone with infinite gentleness.

‘Ellie …’ he whispered, like a prayer.

When their lips met, it was soft and searching, a question and an answer all at once.

Electricity sparked beneath her skin, raising every nerve ending, stealing the breath from her lungs.

He tasted of wine, and when they finally broke apart, she kept her eyes closed, forehead resting against his, breathing him in.

‘I need to tell you something,’ he said, his thumb tracing lazy spirals on her back.

‘That night at the pub when I asked if you’d copied the code.

I knew you’d remember it.’ His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

‘But your father was caught in the middle, you see, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you in danger.

Not when I was falling for you all over again. ’

Her eyes fluttered open, searching his face, and she saw the truth spark in his eyes, the love that had been protecting her all along.

The candles flickered around them, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and for once, the war felt very far away. ‘Stay,’ she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

He kissed her forehead, soft and lingering. ‘Not tonight,’ he said gently. ‘But soon. When you’re ready. When we both are.’

She nodded, understanding flooding through her even as disappointment tugged at her chest. He stepped back slowly, as if every inch of distance ached, his fingers trailing down her arm until only their hands touched.

'Goodnight, Ellie.'

He let himself out, and she stood there, frozen, her fingertips pressed to her lips where the ghost of his kiss still lingered.

The candles had burned lower, casting longer shadows, but the warmth he’d left behind seemed to fill every corner.

He’d wanted to stay – she’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way his hands had trembled when he’d touched her.

But he was a gentleman, careful with her heart in a way that made her fall for him even harder.

This wasn’t just attraction or wartime desperation.

This was real. For the first time in months, she felt hope unfurling in her chest. She blew out the candles one by one, but the glow Jack had kindled in her heart continued to burn brightly.

Tomorrow would bring new dangers, new uncertainties.

But tonight had given her a reason to fight beyond duty or country.

Tonight had given her love and a new beginning.