“Yeah. Okay. As soon as I wash off some of this blood.”
“Then we talk,” she said.
“Fine.”
* * *
Christie had started by telling him how she expected him to come right back. How scared she was, and how angry.
But then, when she was done, she let him talk.
And she listened as Jack spoke about the fence, the guards, and she quickly knew he was downplaying it.
The failed fence had been a major threat.
And despite Lowe saying
“So, with all their damn security, the safety of Paterville—”
“Not so safe.”
He then told her what Lowe had asked him.
“What? To live here?”
“Yeah.”
She looked away. “God. I don’t know. I mean after tonight … But maybe…?”
Jack didn’t say anything.
He got up. Their chat ended. She watched him take a step toward the bedroom.
“Your leg—you messed up your leg. Your doctors won’t be happy.”
“Me either. Can you grab me a Vicodin? Hate it, but … And a glass of water. I need a shower.”
While she went to get the pill and the water, Jack limped into the bedroom.
* * *
Jack took the pill and held it.
“Thanks,” he said.
Christie, in a short nightgown, turned off the lamp on the dresser.
As she did, Jack took a sip of water.
But he put the pill on the end table near his side of the bed.
He had planned on taking the Vicodin. Planned on getting knocked out and sleeping.
But in the shower, his plans changed.
He got under the covers. Windows still shut and locked, outside now all seemed quiet and still, as if nothing had happened.
Christie shut off the light on her side of the bed.
Jack lay there, feeling so achy, the too-soft pillow surrounding his head.
His eyes were shut, but sleep seemed impossibly far away.
He felt Christie’s arm around him. Then it tightened, the hug promising, her hand straying. He felt her reach down, encircling him, the feeling electric.
He turned to her, ready so fast, his senses so awake after the madness of the night.
“The kids?”
“Asleep,” she said. “Late for them.” Then: “Just be quiet.”
He felt her slowly slide down, her lips planting kisses. No sounds outside to compete with the gentle noise of her kisses. His hands went to her face, caressing her, and she started to slide back up to kiss him on the lips.
He could feel her body, lean, taut—she put as much time into exercise as he did—position itself over him.
A big kiss, and he felt her on him, straddling him—and suddenly there really was nothing else. Just this shaded room, the bed, the sounds each of them made, the waves of pleasure making the idea of pain seem distant.
He became invulnerable.
At some point he turned her over, a move that had been impossible only weeks ago. He could support his weight with his knees, trying to minimize the pain to his bad leg.
Her legs entwined his.
When her foot moved over his healed wound, he detected no flicker of a reaction from her.
For her, too, everything else had vanished but their lovemaking.
And as he looked at her in the shadows, kissing her hard again, at one point, she took a breath.
And as if welcoming him back from a long trip, she said:
“I love you.”
His answer was in his movements, driving deep, another kiss, holding her almost too tight.
Until it was done, and they both fell into the lightest of sleeps.
secrets
28
Morning
Jack woke up, the aches from the night before still hitting him at a dozen different points on his body.
He heard steps … expecting Christie to walk in … but it was Kate.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Kate. Um, where is everybody?”
“Mom took Simon down to the lake. I’m going down, too.”
He felt his daughter scrutinizing him.
“You okay, Dad? After last night.”
Jack had already decided to minimize the break-in.
“It was nothing. Certainly no worse than what I see every day.”
She nodded. Not exactly looking convinced. “Can I get you anything?”
He guessed all was forgiven.
Jack laughed. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
“’Kay. Then, I guess I’ll go down to the beach. It’s really hot out.”
“Great. You go and enjoy.”
* * *
After slipping on his bathing suit, and a T-shirt, Jack started down to the lake—then stopped. He turned and looked at the Blairs’ cabin. Were they okay after last night? Seemed like anyone who was behind a locked door would have been fine—the Can Heads who got in were busy with guards and other camp workers trying to stop them.
