Page 48 of Double Bucked

There’s a sawing sound. Like chains rattling. Or tree branches scratching the window. I find the culprit: James, asleep beside me.

I smack James in the chest.

“James. You’re grinding your teeth again.”

He lets out a mmph noise. “Sorry,” he mumbles, still half asleep. “Sorry.”

He rolls onto his stomach, smothering his sounds in the pillow. I stare at the ceiling and wait for the fingers of fear to release their grip on my heart.

14

CLAIRE

The morning of Daddy’s funeral, I wake up with an emotional hangover the size of Texas.

Sun is pouring in through the windows, and the room feels too brightly white.

I groan and roll over.

“Good morning,” James says.

He’s sitting up in bed. The sheets pool around his hips. He has a silver platter on the bedside table beside him. On it rests two cups, a pot, and a couple of plates of pastries. The herbal scent of tea and the warm, fresh bread remind me that I went to sleep without dinner last night.

My father can’t punish me anymore, so apparently, I’ve taken it upon myself to do it for him.

Silly girl.

My stomach complains.

I rest my head on his strong thigh. I admire his lean torso. His messy bed head. The peppering of morning scruff that he’ll shave off later.

“Hungry?” James asks.

I nod.

He pinches off a corner of scone and hand-feeds me. The bread is soft, the blueberries are sweet, and there’s a crunchy layer of sugar crystals on top.

I may not be happy about being back, but the decadent pastries are helping.

“Do you think we could just not go?”

“To your father’s funeral?”

I nod.

His thumb pets my chin. “Say the word and I’ll take you to the airport.”

If I just look at him, I can pretend I’m not here.

I can pretend we’re in our Paris flat, and Daddy isn’t dead, and Ransom doesn’t love me.

I take his hand. His hands are so large they make me feel small. I pull his hand to my face, and his fingers curl instinctively at my cheek. I kiss the space between the rounded mounds at the bottom of his palm.

There’s a swelling, aching in my chest. I’m so grateful for this man.

James makes me feel safe. He is, perhaps, the only person on earth to accomplish that task.

“Can you make all the decisions today?” I ask him.

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