Page 43 of Until I Find You

I emerge from the restaurant onto an expansive stone terrace. The restaurant is arranged on a cliffside, giving beautiful views of the ocean during the day, and the dotted starry sky at night.

Jack hasn’t gone far. He’s standing at the railing, his arms extended wide, fists gripping hard. Head drooped. His dark green linen shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tensing muscles. Though he’s suffering, he’s beautiful at doing so.

I approach, careful so I don’t spook him, and take the spot beside him.

Jack doesn’t look up at me, but I know he knows I’m here.

The air is warm, yet it casts a chill across my bare skin. I’m getting used to the eighty-degree days and the seventy-degree nights. The ocean waves crash below. A repetition. A heartbeat, slamming against the rocks. That one much slower and steadier than mine.

I wait for him to speak. Yet, he says nothing.

I cup his hand with mine. “Are you okay?”

Such a stupid question because ofcoursehe’s not okay. That whole conversation was a nightmare for everyone involved. Both Jack and Mari were regurgitating all the pain they’ve swallowed all these years right onto the table while Geoff and I watched, unsure how to keep the tragedy from unfolding.

Jack lifts his head, gazes out at the expanse of nothingness. “You don’t need to worry about me, Camilla.”

“Of course, I do. You’re my business partner,” I say. “If your head isn’t screwed on straight, everything’s going to fall apart.”

His mouth twitches. A smile.

I tighten my hand over his and move a bit closer. “More importantly, I care about you, Jack.” More than I knew until this moment. Because as the words stream out of my mouth, they cause an aching in my chest. “I know this is hard, and I’m sorry I –”

“We agreed, no more apologies,” he says. “You couldn’t have known what it’s like.”

What it’s like… Things between Jack and his mother are always touchy and raw. Not sometimes. Always.

“No one needs me,” he says.

My mouth gets hot.

“My mother. My father. I’m just on a fucking island.” Jack huffs. “And I don’t mean because we’re in Hawaii.”

I would laugh if my thoughts weren’t spiraling. “I need you.”

Jack is silent.

“For the business. Of course.” Of course. For no other reason. It’s not like my body is betraying me and crying out for him every moment of the day. That’s not happening. Not at all.

I’m a shit liar.

“I don’t want you having to worry about me or chase after me,” he says. “You don’t deserve that.”

I frown. “It’s not a matter of deserving, it’s what friends do for each other.”

Jack finally looks at me, and what I see in his eyes is something indefinable. His pupils are blown out, eyes glassy, eyelids heavy, carrying…

No. It can’t be lust. Can it?

“Who takes care ofyou,Camilla? At the end of the day, who runs afteryou?” Jack asks, his voice a mere rasp.

I blink. “I do.”

Jack’s hand, the one under my own, flips over. He laces our fingers together and pulls me closer, conspiratorial, ducking his head down to speak only to me. No risk of any person overhearing. Any animal. Not even the ocean.

Just us.

“That’s not good enough. To me. Not good enough at all.”

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