The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  I swallowed, fiercely disliking the nickname he’d given me, but didn’t comment on it. I felt like engaging them in any way would only lead to trouble.

  “I like fancy,” said one of the men. “Nothing tastes sweeter than fancy pussy.” He smacked his lips together, and I cringed inwardly. Coming from a small town and living with an overbearingly strict mother, I wasn’t used to lewd talk, especially lewd talk directed at me. A sick feeling grew in my belly.

  Stuffing all my things in my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and made a move to leave, but Pedro stopped me. I was actually a couple of inches taller than he was, but he had muscle on his side, and there was something distinctly intimidating about him despite his smaller stature.

  He gripped my arm, and it wasn’t friendly. In fact, his fingers dug into me in a painful way.

  Cocking his head, he asked, “You think you’re too good for us, huh?”

  I swallowed. “Of course not. I’m just very busy, that’s all, and I don’t usually drink alcohol during the day, so….”

  “You looking down on us for drinking, eh?” Pedro bit out, and turned to look at his friends, his fingers still digging into my arm. “Pity fancy is usually snobby, too. I should teach her a lesson. Stupid fucking uppity bitch.” The alcohol on his breath told me he’d had quite a bit to drink, so maybe that was the beer talking. Still, the way he spoke was upsetting. I could feel tears catching in the back of my throat, apprehension clenching in my gut. I wished someone would come by and help me, but we were at the front of the tent, and most people were in their motor homes or at the gazebo having lunch at this hour.

  “Let go of me,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice even.

  Instead of letting go, Pedro pulled me closer so that our bodies collided. His grip was like steel. “You’re gonna come have a drink with us as an apology. Make things right. Then we’ll let you go.”

  He dragged me forward, and I stumbled over my own feet. Pedro slid his arm around my waist, still holding tightly. I suspected he wanted to make it look like I was going with him willingly to the people in the camper vans we passed by. I tried to break out of his hold again, but he only gripped me harder, held me closer.

  We were passing by a van that I realised was Jack’s when I heard a low voice swear, “What the fuck.”

  “Jackie boy, we’re going to have some fun with this one. Want to come?” one of the men asked. I turned my head, desperation in my eyes when I looked at Jack, and I saw the anger plain as day on his face. He strode forward, fuming, and used both hands to push Pedro away from me. “You don’t fucking touch her, you hear me?”

  I stared wide-eyed at the scene that unravelled. “Are you serious, bro?” Pedro asked, wearing an indignant expression.

  Jack looked at me. “Did you want this dickhead’s hands on you?” he asked, and all I could manage was a fervent shake of my head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. And I’m not your bro. Are you so hard up you’re forcing women to spend time with you now, Pedro?”

  Pedro spat on the ground and grinned viciously. “She wants it. Just needs a little convincing, that’s all. Bet she’ll be a nice tight little fuck.”

  In a blur Jack swung for Pedro, laying a hard punch to his jaw, and I heard an awful crack.

  “Oh, Jesus fuck, did you just break his face?” one of the men exclaimed, looking bleary-eyed.

  Pedro was grunting in pain, kneeling on the ground and holding onto his jaw. “I’m going to fucking kill you, McCabe,” he seethed.

  Jack stepped forward and towered over him, flashing his teeth menacingly, his threat low and eerily calm. “Try it.”

  For the first time, Pedro looked genuinely frightened as he crawled to his feet, still holding his jaw. “Come on, boys, let’s get out of here.”

  They all scurried away, and I stood there, several feet between me and Jack. Once they were gone, he seemed to deflate, running a hand through his long hair and cursing under his breath.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. The tears that had been clogging my throat made my eyes grow watery. I was so unbelievably grateful for what he’d done, but there was an air about him that made me wary. I wanted to hug him in gratitude, but my body remained frozen and stiff. Jack advanced on me then, but stopped just when his chest brushed mine. His voice softened considerably when he lifted his hand and ran his knuckles down the side of my face.

  “I told you. I told you coming with us was a bad idea, but did you listen? No, you didn’t. You put your trust in a bunch of strangers. Can’t you see how stupid that was, Lille? For all you knew, we could have had some kind of human-trafficking gig going on the side and sold you into a life of slavery or prostitution. You never would have seen your family again.” He swore, dragging his fingers through his hair yet again, and looked to the side. When he turned back to me, he met my eyes dead on. “You have to learn that you can’t trust people.”

  I swallowed down all of the emotion that had formed like a ball in my throat and met his eyes. “I just wanted to escape,” I whispered so, so quietly.

  “And you could have been escaping, only to be captured. This work, this place, it’s not safe for women all alone.”

  What he said irritated me. “What about Lola? And Violet? They’re alone, and they’ve survived just fine. Look, this whole thing was just a bit of bad luck. Pedro and his friends were drunk and acting stupid. I’ll know to stay away from them in future. But thank you for helping me. I’m not sure what might have happened if you hadn’t, and for that I owe you one.”

  At this I shocked even myself when I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. I heard him suck in a breath as I pressed my body to his and rested my face against his hard chest.

  Hug me back. Please, hug me back, I silently urged him.

  He was still for a second before I felt him accept my embrace, his arms going around me, returning the hug almost too tightly. We stayed like that for a long time, standing on the grass outside his camper, birds chirping in the trees nearby. In the distance, I heard one of the elephants make a noise with its trunk that reminded me of a brass horn.

  Jack’s face moved, and I could have sworn I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, his lips in my hair. Then he murmured, “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

  He pulled away first, and we began walking. I kept my eyes on my shoes, embarrassed and wondering if he felt awkward that I’d hugged him. When we got to Violet’s camper, I asked him if he wanted to come inside. I didn’t expect him to say yes, so when he nodded and followed me in, I had to stifle my surprise. Lola was sitting on the sofa, earphones in as she watched YouTube videos on her phone. She saw us and smiled, greeting us loudly, “Hey, you two!”

  I gestured for Jack to sit down, and poured him a glass of water. He hadn’t even asked for it, but I felt like I had to offer him something, and I had nothing else. I sat across from him at the table and a few minutes of semi-awkward silence passed, Jack and I looking at each other and then intermittently looking away. Lola started talking, pulling her earphones out, completely unaware of the tension between us.

  “Oh, my God, you have got to see this, Lille. I’ve been watching this guy’s videos for the past hour. He’s amazing. Everyone online is going crazy for him.” She came and pulled up a chair beside me, laying her phone on the table and hitting “replay” on a video. The caption read: Jay Fields Amazes Yet Again!!

  In the video, a tall, attractive man with light brown hair and lots of tattoos stood on the street, shuffling a deck of cards in a way I’d never seen before. The cards practically did somersaults as his lightning-fast fingers simultaneously spun them into the air and effortlessly caught them again. He approached a woman standing in front of him and held out the deck.

  “Okay, darlin, pick a card, any card.”

  I was so engrossed in the video that I startled when Jack’s chair squealed across the floor and he stood abruptly.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern. His face was pale, and he lo
oked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “I have to go,” he said, turning and exiting the van in a rush.

  Lola and I exchanged a bemused glance before I got up and followed him out. I called after him, but he kept stomping away. We’d reached his camper by the time I caught up with him, reaching out and tugging on his arm.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  Jack stood by the door to his camper. His shoulders sagged. “Just leave me alone, Lille.”

  He turned to me then, and there was such sheer agony in his eyes that my heart almost broke. Marina was right — Jack did need a friend, and I was determined to be one for him.

  I reached down and slid my fingers into his, my voice soft as I said, “Let me be your friend, Jack.”

  My words seemed to strike a chord in him, because I’d never seen him look at me so fiercely. A raindrop landed on the tip of my nose as a light shower started to fall.

  “Can we go inside?” I asked, indicating the falling rain.

  Jack seemed to struggle with whether or not to let me in, and then finally he nodded and tugged on my hand as he opened the door. Inside his camper was warm, and it smelled so strongly of him it was almost dizzying: clove oil, mint, and something that was a lot like burnt embers. The living area was tidy but worn; the whole place was very much lived in. I saw the door to his bedroom was open; a navy blanket lay messily on top of the duvet, and on the floor was a stack of old books. I tilted my head to try to read the spines, but before I got a chance, Jack pulled the door closed. I startled, embarrassed to be caught looking in his room. My cheeks heated, and without being invited I went and sat down on the sofa, which, like in most of the campers, was built into the furnishings. It was upholstered in a dark green tartan.

  “Do you like living here?” I asked, my palms growing sweaty. The camper felt so small, but that was probably just because Jack had such a presence. He had this way of filling up empty space like no one I’d ever known before.

  He rubbed at his stubbly jaw, finally coming and sitting down beside me. “Ah, it’s hardly a palace, but it does the job.”

  I nodded, eyes roaming the space so I wouldn’t have to look at him. There was an intensity about his demeanour that I found difficult to absorb head-on.

  “You should see the room Lola and I share. It’s so tiny you can hardly fit between the beds without standing sideways. And she has so much stuff. I swear, I’m going to go crazy from all the clutter pretty soon.”

  Jack gave me a soft smile, and I continued to ramble, joking, “She thinks Violet is grumpy, but I wonder if it’s just because she’s had to live with Lola for so long. She talks in her sleep, too. Some nights I wake up thinking she’s trying to talk to me, but it just turns out she’s mumbling nonsense to herself.”

  “I could see that getting old very quick,” Jack offered, and my heart leapt that he was engaging me.

  I laughed. “Oh, yeah, big time. You don’t have a spare bed, do you? Maybe I could come and live here if it all becomes too much.”

  When I looked at him, his gaze grew heated. “No spare bed. Just mine.”

  I gulped down a wad of saliva and endeavoured to change the subject. “So, eh, anyway, why did you run off back there?”

  He stared at me, a thousand stories passing over his face. I was fascinated by him and all his layers. When he didn’t answer me for a long time, I began to worry if he would at all.

  “I just thought….” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck, it was just time for me to leave, you know.”

  Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one.

  “You seemed upset.”

  He arched a brow, his arm resting along the back of the seat, his fingers almost touching me. I wished he’d touch me. I loved it when he touched me.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you pay far too much attention, Lille?”

  I laughed gently. “Actually, no, it’s more the opposite. Mum always says I’ve got my head in the clouds. I feel like I’m oblivious a lot of the time.” I went quiet, practically whispering the next bit as I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “But when something really captures my interest, I notice every detail.”

  My words caused a reaction in him. Surprise, maybe? His body seemed to lean closer. “Outside,” he began, “you said you wanted to be my friend. Is that true?”

  “Of course. I’d very much like to be a friend to you, if you’ll let me.”

  He seemed to be considering my answer, and while he did so, I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. It was wide and masculine, the bottom lip fuller than the top.

  “I feel like I could tell you anything,” he said then, shocking the hell out of me. “I watched you a lot back at your job in the restaurant. There was something about you…I don’t know. Your face was always so…open.”

  My heart literally plopped right out of my chest at what he said, and I was a goner. Gruff, moody, boorish Jack McCabe was opening up to me, and it felt like I might be dreaming.

  “You watched me?” I said quietly.

  “All the time.”

  “I never saw. I thought I was the one who watched you.”

  “You were. That’s why I started watching back.” And there it was again, one of those almost smiles that gave me tingles all over. The idea of him watching me while I worked brought on strange, foreign emotions. I didn’t know what to think. It was almost overwhelming.

  “And what did you see?” I asked, inching closer.

  He moved the arm that was resting along the top of the seat, took a strand of my hair, and rubbed it between his fingers. “I saw a girl who smiled at everyone like they were her best friend. It made me worry for you, because the world eats up that kind of openness, Lille.”

  “If you’re not open, then no one can ever come inside,” I countered, not really knowing what I meant. I realised Jack read some kind of innuendo in my words, because his nostrils flared and his eyes grew heated. “Tell me why you went away before. Did something bother you?” I asked, bringing the conversation back around again. When his expression went guarded, I knew I was on to something, and I just couldn’t let it go.

  “You can tell me anything. You can trust me,” I urged him, reaching out for his hand, and he let me take it. It was so big and heavy that my hand felt encapsulated. He watched me like a wild animal sussing out another wild animal in the jungle. It felt like I was waiting for years for him to say something. When he finally did, it wasn’t at all what I expected.

  “That video Lola was showing you of the magician,” he began, and I nodded for him to continue. “That’s my brother.”

  “Really? The American guy? That’s so cool. So performing must run in your family then,” I said, and Jack’s brows knit together in consternation as he shook his head.

  “No, you don’t understand. He’s my brother, but I haven’t seen him in over sixteen years.”

  A quick breath escaped me. “Oh, right.” A pause. “Are you estranged?”

  He looked away, his gaze focused on the raindrops clinging to the window, the weak ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. “Something like that.”

  “You can talk to me, Jack. Whatever you say will never leave this room, I promise,” I said, and squeezed his hand in mine. For a tiny second, I saw a man crying out for comfort, for somebody to confide in. It was such a stark contrast to the stern, stoic person he came across as most of the time.

  Crossing one foot over the other and shifting his body on the couch, he started to tell me his story. “When I was ten, my family’s house burned down in a really bad fire. It’s where I got my burn scars from.”

  He stopped and a long quiet followed. I wasn’t sure if he was going to continue, but when he finally did his voice bore a distinct strain. “The fire killed both my parents and put me in a coma for almost a year. When I woke up, I was all alone, and when I was well enough to receive the news, I was told that my parents were dead and my brother had been ta
ken to live with my uncle in America. They wouldn’t give me any more details than that, but I overheard the nurses talking. They spoke of my uncle and how he’d reacted when he saw how badly injured I was. He told the medical staff that he didn’t have the resources to care for a sick kid, so he only took my brother, who hadn’t been hurt so badly by the fire. I was put in foster care, and the rest is history.”

  I swallowed, trying to absorb his sad, terrible story. Thinking of him as a boy all alone simply broke my heart in two. “You never saw your brother again? But how do you know this magician guy is really him?”

  “Fields was our mother’s maiden name. I can understand why he took it, because he hated our father. Long story short, Dad was a violent drunk, and Jay took the lion’s share of the beatings because he was older. When I aged out of the foster care system, I had nowhere to go. I’d always felt too proud to try to locate my uncle and ask for help, but this time I was desperate. When I called him, he was cold and dispassionate on the phone, telling me that neither he nor Jay wanted anything to do with me. I backed off, angry. Then, some time later, I saw a story in the news about how my brother had won this big legal battle against some tabloid that had been slandering him, and I knew it was Jay from the picture. He’d become famous. He had all the money and resources in the world at his fingertips, and he still hadn’t tried to come look for me. I could forgive him before because he was just a kid, but not now. So that’s what upset me. I don’t like being reminded that I have a brother who couldn’t give a shit about me enough to check if I was even still alive.”

  “That’s…wow,” I breathed, unsure what to say. “Thank you for telling me all that.”

  His eyes were on my lips when he replied, “Thanks for listening.”

  The air between us thickened just as somebody knocked on the door of the camper. Then a male voice called, “Jack, you have a rehearsal in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there,” Jack answered, and I saw Antonio pass by the window as he continued on his way.