Jack picks up a handful of coins. Counts them carefully before he drops them into the bag we need to bank in the morning. “I didn’t know.”
I freeze with the glass halfway to my lips. “You didn’t know?”
“Iforgot.” Jack taps his temple. “And he didn’t know how to tell me, so he never did.”
“How did you find out then?”
Jack shrugs. “Guess he changed his mind.”
I force my arm into motion again. Neck the rum while Jack appraises me the way he used to when we were teenagers and I wanted to do something stupid. “So he told you then?”
“Yeah, a few nights ago. And it’s fucking weird, but it felt so…I don’t know…normal, maybe, that I forgot it was a thing and I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Because it makes sense that you know him?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’re from different units, but we fought the same wars, and…I’ve always felt he sees me, you know?”
“Because he’s a soldier?”
“Probably.” Jack pushes the till drawer away from him and sits up straight, stretching his back, and I resent the bar between us.
I want to rub his sore muscles.
Kiss his neck.
Run my fingers through his hair when he hums against my skin.
“Did you know?”
The question is sharper than I’m prepared for.
I start, wrenched from the warm, cosy place my meandering thoughts have taken me. “Know what?”
“That I knew Folkbefore.”
“No, Jackie. The first time I ever spoke to him was when he rode up to talk to you before Mal came home. Until then, I only knew his face as one of Cam’s lackeys.”
“I don’t think Whitlock is anyone’s lackey.”
“Yeah, okay,” I admit, agreeing with him. “But I didn’t know, I swear. Did Mal?”
Jack rumbles a low growl. “I asked him and his answer made no sense.”
I give into the urge to hop the bar again. Land at Jack’s side minus the empty rum glass as he turns on his stool to face me.
Instinct has me finding a home between his muscular thighs. Reality has me checking myself, taking half a step back before he curls one of those legs around me and hooks me back in.
Like this morning, I’m barely dressed. But I’m dry, which leaves Jack no reason to be touching my skin other than he wants to.
He ghosts a hand down my chest, skating his palm down my ribs.
The light touch is magic.
But.
I suppress a shiver and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve craved the heated purpose of his hand on my skin my whole life, but Jack’s eyes are moving too fast, trying to catch his thoughts and words before they spin from his grasp, and however dizzy and reckless I feel in this moment, my best friend needs my help.
It’s my turn to drop my hands on his shoulders. “What did Mal say when you asked him about Folk?”