He starts to shrug again, but even in his inebriated state, he can recognize the warning signs. He’s fast approaching her breaking point. “Yeah. He got here and tried to overcharge us, and then he tried to stiff us. So Brett and I took care of it.”
“You had him here? And what do you mean, you took care of it?”
“We pushed him around a little bit, that’s all. There were three of us, and he’s some skinny dude from Brett’s sister’s college. And he . . . he didn’t like it, and he tried to fight back. And he was flailing around and hit me in the nose, that’s all,” Jack says defensively. “He couldn’t have hit me on purpose if he tried. It was a total accident.”
“So what, he just left after that?” She knows Jack, and she thinks she knows Brett, that little piece of pond scum. There’s no way they’d let the dealer just walk away.
“Well, not exactly. Brett hit him a few times first while Vince held him down. But the guy was fine. He totally got off easy.”
Holly closes her eyes. She can imagine it.
“Did you bleed on him at all?”
“What?”
“When you got hit in the nose. Did you bleed on him? Or on anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I wasn’t exactly worried about it,” he says. He looks affronted that she’s not more concerned about his own injuries.
There’s nothing she can do. It’s not like she can go find this drug dealer—she can imagine how that conversation would go. Besides, Jack would have had to have dripped blood directly on a cut for there to have been any significant reaction, and even then, what are the odds a bunch of teenagers would notice? But she doesn’t like it. Not one bit.
She leaves Jack sitting in the kitchen, goes to her bedroom, and takes the plastic jar out of her drawer. She catches sight of her face in the mirror and stops. Her eyes are wide with panic and anger, her face is flushed, and her normally perfect blowout is sticking up in clumps around her head. She looks wild. She takes a deep breath, counts to ten, then ten again, before going back into the kitchen.
Jack is still where she left him. She takes the ice pack off his nose and inspects him. He’s stopped bleeding. She doesn’t know if that’s natural or the result of the infusion he got last night. Still, to be sure, she scoops out a tiny amount of the cream and rubs it all along the sides and bridge of his nose. She tries to be gentle, but even so he jerks away.
“Ow! What is that?”
“Something I’ve been working on at the lab,” she says. “It will make the swelling go down.” It won’t work as fast or as well as an injection might, but she can’t afford to use another one so soon, not until she finds Eden. She won’t think about what might happen if she doesn’t.
“There,” she says, putting the lid back on. “Now where’s the stuff?”
“What stuff?” he says, looking innocent. But she’s not fooled.
“Hand it over,” she says, extending her hand.
He pulls a small baggie out of his pants pocket.
“That’s it?”
“Brett got most of it,” he says sulkily. “He and Vince were going to split it.”
She walks over to the sink, turns on the food disposal, and dumps the package down, baggie and all.
“I paid for that!” he says indignantly.
She doesn’t answer. Instead she goes to the living room and picks up the remaining beer bottles. She opens each one over the sink and pours it down the drain, then puts the empties in the recycling bin under Jack’s gaze.
When she’s finished, she scrubs the sink out with bleach. Then she turns to Jack. His nose is still swollen, but the redness seems to be going down.
“Go pack your bag,” she says. She’s made her decision. What if this drug dealer comes looking for Jack? Or what if Brett talks him into another stupid stunt? There’s only one way to keep Jack safe. She can’t trust anyone else, even Barry. If Jack gets hurt again, she’ll be too far away to save him.
“I did already,” he says sullenly. “I was going to bring it to Barry’s tonight.”
“Pack a bigger one,” she tells him. “Change of plans. You’re not going to Barry’s, pal. You’re coming to England with me.”
Chapter Six
Holly settles back into her seat with a deep sigh, the complimentary glass of champagne clutched in her hand. Jack is stuck back in economy, but Holly doesn’t have the slightest pang of guilt. After what he’s put her through today, he’s lucky she didn’t strap him to a wing.
His last-minute ticket cost a fortune, and they had to take a later flight with room for both of them. Then Holly had to call his school and explain his absence. Arrange for assignments to be emailed over. Placate the headmaster over pulling Jack out so close to the end of term—although she really shouldn’t have to, given what she pays each year for Jack’s tuition.
Finally she texted Barry. He wasn’t surprised, which makes her wonder. Barry’s always been good at spotting trouble almost before it happens. Maybe that’s why Jack hasn’t wanted to hang out at Barry’s house lately.
It’s too late for regrets, but she can’t shake the disquieting feeling she’s making a mistake by bringing him. On their infrequent visits to London in the past, she’s had time to plan their trips with military precision, keeping him busy but also within arm’s reach. But in Cornwall, she’ll be searching for Eden. She won’t be able to keep Jack close for that. She won’t be able to protect him. She downs a large gulp of her drink.
At least his nose looks better, though still a bit swollen. She’d made him shower, shave, and change his clothes before they left for the airport. She’d been terrified one of the drug-sniffing dogs would pick up the scent of pot, and a search of their luggage was the last thing she needed. She’s packed the unlabeled cream in her bag. It’s all she has to protect him.
Jack sulked and raged all afternoon, right up until they got on the plane. But she has no doubt now that he’s out of her direct line of sight, he’ll charm any female flight attendants lucky enough to come his way. Too bad for him there aren’t any open seats in first class.
* * *
When Holly deplanes, she waits for Jack so they can go through customs together. He comes out grinning, a nice change from the expression he was wearing when she showed him to his seat.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he says. But he can’t resist. “I think that flight attendant totally wanted my number. Did you see her? She was hot!”
“Lucky you,” she says. In truth, he’s a beautiful boy. Even while she’s walking next to him, other women slide frequent glances his way. He’s handsome, but there’s something else. He radiates youth and health, a subtle golden glow that’s almost irresistible.
Once they’re through customs, she hands him back his phone, which she’d confiscated earlier. “I put you on my international plan—you have a limited amount of data, so don’t use it all up today,” she warns. She passes him some money and tells him to find breakfast and meet her at the car rental window.
By the time he returns, with a horrible pastry for each of them and a passable cup of tea for her, she’s secured their car.
“Are we going to Grandma’s?” he asks as he straps himself in.
“I wasn’t able to reach her. You know your grandmother. She’s probably off on another vacation,” Holly says, careful to keep her own disappointment out of her voice. Jane’s an inveterate traveler, incapable of staying put for more than a month at a time. She’s always searching for the next new paradise, the newest adventure. “I’ll try again later.”
Jack falls asleep almost immediately. He misses the sunrise, the way the clouds turn a rose gold. He doesn’t see the flock of birds wheeling darkly against the sky, and misses how the glass and steel of the city gives way to rolling expanses of green.
The air is different here, more liquid, expansive, the opposite of her climate-controlled life in New York. Holly breathes deeply, her shoulders unfurling for the first time in days.