Page 26 of Jilted By Jack Frost

“She’s... everything I’m not. Organized, level-headed, probably handling that blizzard like a champ while making sure everyone’s got blankets and hot chocolate.” My throat tightens. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s the only real family I have left.”

“You miss her.”

“Yeah.” I blink back tears. “And now Jack says there’s this weird storm, and I can’t even check if she’s okay.”

Cora reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “His Majesty will figure something out.”

The library doors open, and Jack strides in, looking more disheveled than usual. His hair falls loose around his shoulders instead of its usual neat tie.

“Speaking of His Frostiness...” I raise an eyebrow at Cora.

“Leave us.” Jack’s command is soft but firm.

Cora squeezes my hand once more before departing. Jack takes her vacant seat, his eyes fixed on the moons outside.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” Jack murmurs.

“Which part? The drinking or the dangerous bits?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light despite the sudden intensity in his eyes.

His lips twitch in a ghost of a smile. “About understanding,” he says, holding my gaze with an almost tangible force. “You lost your mother young?”

Where is he going with this? I take a deep breath, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I was twelve. Cancer’s a bitch.”

“My sister...” Jack’s voice falters, and I watch as tension ripples across his shoulders, turning them into a landscape of frozen hills beneath his shirt. “She almost died in that winter. Before I made my bargain.”

“Oh.” A wave of empathy washes over me, mingling with the ever-present undercurrent of attraction thatseems to hum in the space where our bodies are mere inches apart. “Is that why you did it? Made the deal?”

“Partially,” he admits, his fingers tracing patterns of frost on the table’s surface, the intricate designs coming to life under his touch. “I wanted to save her and also save others. Though sometimes I wonder if I truly saved anyone, or if I just prolonged their suffering.”

I reach across the table, my hand brushing against the back of his.

“Hey,” I say softly, entwining my fingers with his, ignoring the icy spark that dances between us, a sensation that’s both startling and arousing. “You gave them a chance. That’s more than most people would do.”

His fingers tense beneath mine, but he doesn’t pull away. The contact sends electric sparks through my palm, making my heart race.

“What about your other family?” I ask, my voice gentle. “You mentioned a sister. Were there others?”

Jack’s jaw tightens. His silver eyes darken like storm clouds. “She lived. So did they. That’s what matters.”

“But you never saw her again after...” I trail off, not wanting to say the word ‘sacrifice.’

“No.” The single word carries the weight of centuries of loss.

“And your father?” The temperature around us plummets several degrees. Jack yanks his hand away, frost crackling across the table’s surface.

“We’re done discussing this,” he says, each word sharp as an icicle.

I press my lips together, fighting the urge to push harder. His reaction tells me everything I need to knowabout his relationship with dear old dad. Some wounds are best left frozen over.

“Okay,” I say softly, watching the frost slowly recede. “I get it. Family’s complicated.”

His eyes lift to meet mine, and for a moment, the barriers he’s so meticulously constructed seem to waver. I can see the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide, the raw pain that’s as much a part of him as the frost that clings to his skin.

“Violet,” he whispers, my name sounding like a plea on his lips.

I squeeze his hand, the warmth of my touch melting the frost beneath our joined fingers.

“You’re not alone in this, Jack. Not anymore.”

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