Page 92 of On the Power Play

The sound of a camera shutter sounded behind Jack. He muttered a string of curses and reached out, turning her key in the lock.

She gripped onto his coat. “Don’t?—”

“I’m not leaving. I promise.” His voice rumbled in his throat. “Where the hell is Alvin?”

Delia had no idea. She hadn’t phoned in the car, and hadn’t even thought to text him while they were driving back into town. Alvin knew she was with Jack, and he was entitled to a day off. His replacement had driven with her to Country’s ranch, but she’d told him to go home. It was her fault for not communicating her return time.

“Don’t you have practice?” she squeaked as Jack covered her body with his, shielding her as they entered the foyer. He slammed the door behind them.

“Nope. ” Jack knelt and unzipped her boots. Delia had zero concept of time, but she was almost positive he’d told her he did. Before she could kick her boots off, Jack was next to her, his arm around her shoulders. He turned the deadbolt and kept them clear of the two narrow windows on either side of the door. “Are you hungry?”

Delia shook her head. She didn’t think she’d ever eat again, not after hearing Tony describe what was moving like wildfire across the web. Damn it. How ironic that she’d been upset about a petulant blog post by Ellie May? Her head started to pound.

“Upstairs, then.” He stripped off his coat and held it out like they were sheltering from the rain. They climbed to the second floor, not even bothering to turn on a light until they reached Delia’s bedroom.

He helped her out of her coat. “Where’s your cell? I can phone Alvin and fill him in. Let him know we have company.”

Delia nodded, no longer hyperventilating. She dropped her purse on the bed and pulled her phone from her pocket. Without hesitation, she unlocked it and handed it to Jack, then stumbled into the washroom and splashed cold water on her face.

How could someone do this? Delia thought back to all the times she’d heard about leaked sex tapes or deep fake pictures or videos. If she was honest, she’d never quite believed the celebrities when they went on talk shows insisting it wasn’t them or swearing it was filmed without their permission.

Probably a publicity stunt. She almost gagged. What a self-righteous, judgmental asshole she’d been. What had given her the right to sit back and assume she knew anything about someone else’s life? Who was she to read the gossip or look at the stolen photos?

It was madness. That anyone felt entitled to exclusive access to the most intimate parts of someone’s life. She wanted to set her social apps on fire and never get on the internet again.

Jack’s voice hummed behind the door, and a thought sent a bucket of ice down the back of her shirt. Would he watch it? Would Mary or Alvin? Had his teammates seen it? Every man she’d ever known or dated in her life flashed through her mind’s eye, and she threw herself to her knees in front of the toilet.

She clenched her hands into fists as her stomach emptied, then coughed and sucked in a breath before she heaved a second time.

When her heart rate came down and her stomach wasn’t trying to flip itself inside out, Delia forced herself up and rinsed the sour out of her mouth. She brushed her teeth, then washed her face properly and applied moisturizer.

Looking at herself in the mirror only made her want to cry again, so she dropped her eyes and braved the bedroom where she knew Jack was waiting. Something inside her shifted like wet sand at the realization that she’d asked him not to go.

Her heart stuttered as she stepped past the threshold. Jack looked up from his phone. Hers sat next to him on the comforter. He didn’t ask if she was okay. Her pale skin and puffy eyes answered that question.

She wanted to say something. To make a joke like she had on the ice or use another tool from her toolbox to process the last hour, but her thoughts and emotions were a snarled ball of yarn that she didn't have the energy to start unraveling.

Instead, all of her worst habits floated to the surface. She should drink. A lot. And watch a terrible rom com with chips and queso and a box of doughnuts.

She knew from personal experience that none of it would work. She was going to crash. Again, and again, and again.

Delia glanced at her guitar propped against the chair. For the first time in a long time, the idea of playing it made her stomach lurch. If she had to avoid her feelings, that was not the way to do it. Something about her fingers against the smooth wood and strings wouldn't allow her to lie to herself.

It was the same reason she couldn’t phone her mother. Not yet. She would just sob, and the last thing her mom needed was more stress in her life. Lying was what she needed right now. Delia closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Sleep. She just needed to crawl into the bed and close her eyes and tell herself the last hour had been a terrible dream.

When she opened her eyes, Jack was still watching her. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Alvin and Mary are a few minutes away. He's going to make sure nobody tries to approach the house." Delia nodded, rolling and unrolling the hem of her sweater. "I know I'm not your boyfriend, and I'm not trying to—" He flinched and lowered his eyes. "I don't have to be here in your room if you don't want me to be, but I can't go, Delia. I'm not going to leave you alone. So I can be here with you or I can go sit?—"

"Be here with me." Delia's voice was a whisper, raw from throwing up and swollen from crying. She didn't know what it meant for him to be there, but the idea of him walking out the door made her insides yank from her middle.

Jack let out a relieved breath. "Okay. Yeah." He glanced around the room like a dog hunting for the perfect place to curl up and nap. Jack being close normally sent her heart into rhythmic gymnastics, but not then.

The idea of him wound around her suddenly felt like the end of a good book. Like placing the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The chord resolution at the end of the bridge.

Delia took the few steps to her dresser and reached under her shirt to take off her bra. Jack faced the door while she changed, only turning back when he heard her pulling the sheets and comforter back on the bed.

He reached out and handed her her phone so she could plug it in on the bedside table. Delia took a moment to send a text to her mom just for peace of mind.

Hey! Thinking of you! Are you feeling okay? How was work? Love you!

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