Knowing Jack

by Rachel Curtis

  I’m practically crying now, and I come around to wrap my arms around him.

  He pulls me into his lap again and holds me so tightly I literally can’t breathe for a minute.

  I shift until I can take in a full breath, and I hold him just as tightly. His face is buried in my shoulder, and he’s all shuddering emotion.

  There’s nothing I can say. There’s no answer in the world for what he’s just given me. So I just hang on and hope it will be enough.

  I barely remember that I was drunk and threatened the night before or that I’m still suffering the effects of a hangover.

  Nothing has mattered more than this strong, tender, broken man in my arms.

  ***

  After a while, we decide to just go back to bed, since there’s really nothing to do.

  It’s Sunday. I have no plans. Jack doesn’t have a job. Might as well spend the day in bed.

  We sleep. I know he sleeps too because he’s sound asleep with his arm thrown up above his head when I wake up around two in the afternoon.

  I’m hungry and groggy and worried about Jack.

  I watch him until he opens his eyes.

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  So I go to make us sandwiches while he takes a shower. After we eat, we go back to bed. Not really to sleep but just to be comfortable.

  I curl up next to him, sighing in relief when he wraps an arm around me.

  “So what happened?” I ask after a while. “After the thing when you were nineteen. Did you get in big trouble?”

  “No. It was investigated—by everyone, mostly my dad—but no one could find anything that I did wrong, other than sleep with her.”

  “Did you…did you have feelings for her?”

  I feel him shrug. He’s stroking my hair, which is incredibly messy at this point. “I don’t know. I liked her well enough. She was older than me. She came on pretty strong. But it hadn’t gotten very far. I didn’t feel for her the way…”

  “The way what?” I perk up because—seriously—how can a girl not when it sounds like he’s going to say something she really wants to hear.

  “I never felt for her the way I feel for you,” he says, sliding me up so he can meet my eyes. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you.”

  I try not to squirm. “Oh. Good. Me either.”

  He kisses me then, and I kiss him back, and it gets pretty deep really quickly.

  Soon he has me turned over on my back and he’s settled between my legs and, there, now he’s inside me and it’s so good and so deep and so right.

  I’m starting to wrap my legs around him when he lurches up. “Shit. Condom.”

  I pull him back down before he can slide out. “I’m on birth control. So, unless you’re…”

  “I’m clean.” He holds my gaze unbreakingly. “Are you sure, princess?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I want you just like this.”

  “I want you too. I want you so much I breathe with it. I can’t imagine wanting anyone else.”

  And that sounds just about right to me.

  He starts to move, and he’s not nearly as controlled as normal. In fact, he’s not controlled at all. Soon he’s pushing into me with hard, fast thrusts, grunting and never looking away from my face.

  I can’t stand even the little distance between us so I tighten my legs around his waist and I pull his head down so I can kiss him.

  The kiss is wet and eager and clumsy, and I can feel him let loose the reins of his restraint as I hold him with my legs, my arms, my everything.

  It feels so good. Better than anything. And I don’t think I’m going to come but I just don’t care at all.

  He breaks the kiss with a helpless moan. “Chloe, baby, can you—”

  “Come, Jack,” I interrupt, since an orgasm is the last thing that matters to me now. “Let go. Please let go.”

  He does. He can’t seem to help it. He shakes and jerks his hips and lets out a loud exclamation of release. And it’s so amazing. So powerful. So exactly what I want.

  He falls down on top of me afterwards, and he’s heavy, but I want that too. I cling to him and arch up into his sweet little kisses, all over my face and mouth and neck.

  We both fall asleep afterwards, and it’s dark by the time we wake up.

  Interlude

  Jack

  When you’ve done what I’ve done, when you’ve been who I’ve been, when you’ve lived what I’ve lived, then you don’t know what to do when you’re suddenly untethered, when the ties that were holding you trapped are cut without warning.

  I tried to keep control, to not let go, to hold the universe in order by never giving in, never letting go, always walking on the path laid out for me.

  But, now that Chloe is part of my universe, I just can’t do it anymore. She changes everything.

  I could have killed that guy last night. I literally could have killed him as everything held in check inside me for so long was finally unleashed.

  I don’t want to be that man. But I also don’t want to be the man I was before, held in stasis by guilt, by the fear of going too far, by obligation to a father he’ll never be able to live up to.

  I’m not even sure who I want to be anymore, except the man I am has to be with Chloe. That’s the only black-and-white truth in the gray my life has become.

  I’m sure of her, if nothing else.

  There might be one other thing I’m sure about, and she’s calling me on the phone right now. I drag myself out of bed at the sound of the ringtone, checking to make sure Chloe doesn’t wake up. Then I pull on a pair of pants and go to the other room to answer the phone.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Jack, are you all right?”

  Leave it to my mom to not waste time with frivolous small talk. There’s a reason she’s been happily married to my dad for thirty years.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your dad just told me what happened.”

  Since it’s not even six on a Monday morning, I’ve already figured this out myself. “It’s fine, Mom. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Of course I’m worried! He’s all torn up about it. And now you don’t have a job, and I don’t know—”

  “I can get another job.” I have my doubts that my dad is as torn up as my mother thinks, but I’m not going to disillusion her about that. One of the reasons I didn’t cut ties with him seven years ago was it would break my mother’s heart. I’m just not going to do that—if I can help it.

  “I know you can, but I don’t understand how it happened. Why would you have gotten involved with another protectee, when you know what could happen—”

  “Jill didn’t die because I was involved with her.” It’s so strange saying the words—exactly like I believe them.

  For the first time—ever—I wonder if I really do.

  “I know. But it just made everything so messy. And you know that, when things get messy, then it’s hard to keep everything under con—”

  “So they’re messy. I can’t do anything about it. There are some things you can’t control, and if you try, it’s just going break you.”

  There’s silence on the other end of the line for a long time. So long I start to wonder if I’ve hurt her feelings and start to think of some way to take it back.

  Finally, she says, “You’re not broken, Jack.”

  I sigh because she genuinely believes this. No matter who I am, no matter what I do, she’ll always believe this. I’m her son—her only son—and nothing is going to change that.

  Since I know this is true and since she deserves the truth, I try to give it to her. “I feel…close. Too close to broken. And I have reason not to be now.”

  “The girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You…you love her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So it’s not
like before?”

  “It’s nothing like before. And I want to be…I want to be better.”

  So I feel like a fool, saying that—even saying it to my mom. Chloe would probably laugh at me, since it’s as far from bad-ass as a guy can get. But Chloe isn’t the only one in the world that I love, and if I can make my mom understand, then I want to do that.

  “Your dad is a good man too, Jack.”

  I have no idea what to say to that.

  “If you need to cut loose, then that’s what you need to do. But he’s a good man, and he loves you.”

  I have no reason to believe that’s true except that she says so, but I don’t try to argue. It would only hurt her more.

  Then she concludes, “But if you’re not the man he expects you to be, then that’s…that’s really all right.”

  And that means something. Ever after everything else.

  When you’ve done what I’ve done, been what I’ve been, lived what I’ve lived, it doesn’t take much to make a difference.

  Eleven

  Chloe

  I don’t really know why, but things feel different the next morning.

  I still have to get up and go to class—it’s not even Fall Break yet and sadly the semester doesn’t come to a stop just because major things happen in your life. Things are still kind of messy between me and Jack—plus, he’s unemployed, which definitely might complicate things. And everyone at school still hates me.

  Plus, I was unforgivably stupid on Saturday night, and really bad things might have happened because of it.

  But, still, despite all that, I feel almost hopeful, like something in the universe has shifted.

  I come out of the shower, and Jack is stretched out on the bed, only half under the covers. He looks gorgeous and debauched, his long limbs sprawled and strong chest and tight abs exposed by the sheet that’s barely covering his groin.

  “Do you think you might shave today?” is what I ask because, hey, a girl doesn’t admit that a man is so scrumptious she wants to slurp him down at seven-thirty on a Monday morning.

  He smiles. “I guess I might.”

  “You’re looking pretty rough.”

  “And you don’t like rough?”

  Even two months ago, I would have declared with absolute assurance that rough men were not at all my thing. “There are limits to the roughness I’ll take.”

  His smile broadens. “Then shave it is.”

  I’m wearing a robe, and my hair is still wet, but I go over and sit on the side of the bed. “What are you going to do today? Other than shave, I mean.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you okay—without a job? He didn’t cut you off without a cent or anything, did you?”

  “Oh, no. He’s always very professional. I’ve got salary and benefits for another two months.” Jack’s voice is dry and brittle.

  “I’m sorry. It really sucks. And I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault.”

  He reaches up to cup my cheek, gazing at me from where his head rests on a pillow. “It is not your fault. Don’t you ever think that. I knew there would be consequences to giving into how much I want you. I knew it, princess. You’re just not the kind of girl a guy can be with and not have it change his whole world.”

  I swallow hard. “Oh.”

  “And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it and maybe it’s for the best.”

  “What’s for the best?”

  “Cutting ties with my dad. I’m not sure I ever had the possibility of living up to his expectations anyway. It’s strange, but I feel…”

  “You feel what?”

  “Almost free.”

  I lean down to hug him, and he pulls me into bed with him. We kiss for a moment, but then I pull away. “None of that this morning, or I’ll be late for class. It’s going to be so strange to not have you trailing me at every minute.”

  “It will be strange for me too. Do you think you’ll miss me?” His smile has grown teasing.

  “Maybe.” I give him one more kiss and go to dry my hair.

  When I come out, Jack is sitting on the side of the bed, doing something on his phone.

  “What is it?” I ask, since his demeanor seems to have changed, tightened.

  “Nothing.”

  “Hey! Being secretive to protect me just isn’t going to fly. What is it?”

  “I’ve just decided what I’m going to do today.” At the sight of my expectant look, he continues, “I’m going to figure out who’s responsible for that disgusting Tumblr page.”

  I’ve almost forgotten about that horrible thing, so the reminder is like a kick in my stomach. “You’re just going to figure it all out? Like that, with a snap of your fingers? In one day?”

  “My hands were tied before because of my dad’s code of conduct—there are things he wouldn’t let me do—but my hands aren’t tied anymore, since I no longer work for him. I’m going to do this. I’m going to get it done. Today.”

  He looks determined and virile and dangerous, and I have no doubt that he can do what he says.

  “Okay. That would be great—just to know who’s responsible. But don’t do anything that’s going to get you in trouble. I mean, I don’t want you to end up in jail or anything.”

  He chuckles, but I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t answer.

  ***

  The bodyguard sent in Jack’s place is named Mike. He seems decent enough, but mostly I just forget about his existence. He’s not bad looking and seems strong and competent, but he’s not like Jack. I’m not always aware of him near me.

  My two morning classes go quickly, but then I have to go to Professor Bitch’s office to pick up my graded paper. Instead of turning them back at a distance like a normal professor, so that students can look at their grades in privacy, she likes to “conference” with each student individually about everything they did wrong before she gives the paper back to them.

  So I’m really dreading this meeting.

  It’s just as bad I expect. She starts by asking about what happened to Jack, and she makes a lot of jabs at my situation. Then she hands me the graded paper.

  I don’t even look at it. If she’s given me a D or something, just to be spiteful, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing my face when I look at the grade.

  “You can do better than this, Chloe. You’ve been too distracted this semester.”

  She has no idea whether I can do better or not. This is the first class I’ve ever had with her. All I say is, “I’ve had a lot going on.”

  “I know about all you’ve had going on, but it’s not an excuse to turn in shoddy work.”

  I don’t think the paper is shoddy work. Maybe it’s not the best I’ve ever written, but it’s not that bad.

  “You’re intelligent enough,” she says, sounding so patronizing I want to slap her face off. “You have a decent ability to make persuasive arguments. But if you don’t do the groundwork and get the best research in place, then you’re never going to be able to enter the larger conversation. If you look at the comments, there are at least four major critics of Tennyson that you failed to mention. Leaving them out of your research is just sloppy.”

  I’m not an English major. How the hell am I supposed to know who the major critics of Tennyson are for one random eight-page paper?

  I don’t say any of that, though. I’m determined not to piss her off.

  “You might be used to getting by on your looks and the good-girl persona you put on, but it’s not going to work for you forever. Eventually you need something real to back it up.”

  I stare at her, speechless, since she’s never been so direct about her resentment towards me before.

  “Playing parts, putting on roles, pretending to be perfect can sometimes get you to a certain point, but it’s not going to get you where you want to be.”

  The crazy thing is that she’s right. She absolutely right. I hate her for saying it, since she has no right to judge me or make assump
tions about me.

  But that doesn’t make her less right.

  “Is there anything else?” I say, staring down at the floor, holding myself back from saying what I really want.

  “No. That’s all. I expect better work from you on the next paper.”

  So I’m able to get up and leave. I push myself to my feet and then make my feet move toward the office door.

  Then, for no reason—for no good reason—I stop.

  I turn around.

  I say, “What happened to him was his fault, you know. He makes his own decisions the same as me.”

  It’s vague and obscure and completely out of the blue, but I know she’ll understand.

  She opens her mouth to reply, but then evidently rethinks. She turns her head to the side and lets out a breath, and something transforms on her face.

  I have no idea what’s going on with her, so I’m astonished when she finally says, “I know.”

  And that’s really all there is to say. I go out to join Mike in the hall, and he falls in step behind me.

  Only now do I turn to the last page of my paper to look at the grade.

  She’s given me an A-.

  ***

  I don’t have any classes on Monday afternoons, and I feel like I’ve done enough for the day already, so I start toward my car to head home.

  I glance at my phone, vaguely hoping Jack might have texted, hoping he’s all right.

  No message from him, though.

  I wonder what he’s doing. What kind of lines he’s crossing, gray areas he’s entering, to get the information he wants about that Tumblr page.

  I’m walking across campus when a stir of noise distracts me. It’s coming from over near the music building and, my curiosity prompted, I head in that direction.

  There are a lot of people gathered, which is strange because it’s the in-between-class time when most people are on the move.

  I have a bodyguard, so I’m able to push through the crowd enough to see what’s happening.

  Right in the middle of the scene I see is Jack. He did indeed shave this morning. That’s the first thing I notice.

  He’s wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt. That’s the next thing I notice.