“He’s not here.”
Stones formed in my chest, their weight pressing down on my stomach that was already churning with nerves and regret. I held onto the doorframe. Please let him not have left.
I must have looked like I was going to pass out.
“Ah, Christ,” Devon said finally, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. You two are ridiculous. He’s under the house, beating the shit out of something. Just go past the Jeep. Could you do me a favor, though?”
I nodded.
“Give him the benefit of the doubt this time?”
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. Relief and a new jolt of nerves flooded my system, making me weak-legged as I turned and went back down the stairs.
Devon closed the door behind me.
I paused to gather myself, having no idea what to say to Jack, and heard the sounds of grunts and thwacks I hadn’t noticed when I’d first arrived. Tilting my head to the sky, I filled my lungs deeply. Nana, if you’re out there, I hope you knew what you were doing when you brought me Jack Eversea.
It was dark under the house. The space, which obviously reflected the entire footprint of the home, was huge. I paused as I entered, then passed the Jeep, letting my eyes adjust to the cool dimness. A faint mildewy smell that characterized life in the humid coastal South, wafted through the space. I trained my gaze on the direction of the sounds and could make out a figure, Jack, in the far corner through the concrete support columns sparring against a large black punching bag that hung from above.
The shadows were perforated with beams of sunlight slanting through the lattice-work covering all sides of the house. They landed like mini spotlights all over his muscled form, the rays bouncing off his wet skin. He wore only black gym shorts that clung with dampness.
He grunted and panted as his fists flew, his dark hair wet and brow furrowed. Sweat beaded and dripped to the concrete floor.
I continued moving forward, but stopped when I was about ten feet away from him, trying to force my dry mouth to take a swallow. He was so beautiful it was heartbreaking.
And he seemed so lost.
My eyes skated down his perfect form.
His bare feet glided back and forth on the dusty cement as he shifted his weight easily into every punch his upper body threw. He had a new tattoo on his foot. It made me uneasy to see it, to know there was so much of his life I didn’t yet know or understand. But I wanted to. So badly.
His back was still to me when he stopped his current combinations and grabbed and hugged the bag, dropping his forehead against it. After a few moments I expected him to be done, to catch his breath and stand up, but he suddenly released one arm from around the bag and proceeded to pound out right hooks over and over again, letting out a loud grunt with each one. Sounds of frustration or satisfaction at landing the perfect hit, I couldn’t tell.
He finally stopped, his torso heaving as he clung to the bag. His breathing was loud and labored.
“What do you want, Keri-Ann?” he croaked.
I started.
He didn’t raise his head from where it rested against the bag, just stayed frozen, panting with exertion.
A weird sizzle arced through my churning belly. God, I was so attracted to him. To every part of him. The strong arrogant side of him the world saw. And yes, to this visual and visceral display of maleness. But especially to the vulnerable part he’d had the courage to show me.
I reached behind me and drew the folded pages out of the back pocket of my cargoes, trying to keep my hand steady. “Are these real?” I asked, in a whisper.
His shoulders slumped. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a question.”
“Yes, they’re real.” He sighed.
“No, I believe you … I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked like that.” My voice was breathy with nerves. “Will you … will you look at me,” I managed.
He didn’t move for a moment. Then he tilted his face to the side and looked at me over his arm. His eyes were dark as they met mine. He blinked slowly then dropped his gaze to the pages I was holding. “I wanted to figure out a way to get those back before you read them …”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Is this everything?”
He closed his eyes. “It’s everything that matters. There’s some stuff about my father you probably didn’t need to see and … well, I also didn’t explain what happened with Audrey.” He sliced his eyes back up to mine, as he finally pulled back from where he was clutching the bag. “I slept with her the day I found out she cheated on me.”
“What?” I said even though I’d heard him clearly. I needed time to process it.