Page 31 of Hunted By Valentine

Back in the present, I blink away the moisture in my eyes. “You’ve always protected me,” I murmur.

Jack’s smile is bittersweet. “Someone has to. God knows our family isn’t exactly normal.”

I laugh, the sound surprising me with its lightness. “Understatement of the century.”

As we talk, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to ease. I kick off my heels, curling my feet under me on the couch. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant.

“Remember that time we snuck out to that concert?” Jack asks, grinning.

I groan, covering my face. “Don’t remind me. I thought Michael was going to lose his mind when he found out.”

“Yeah, well, Michael can go to hell,” Jack says, his tone suddenly sharp.

I look up, meeting his intense gaze. For a moment, I see a flash of the dangerous world we inhabit in his eyes. Then it’s gone, replaced by his usual warmth.

“Sorry,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair. “I just… I wish things were different for you, Ruby.”

I swallow hard, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “Me too,” I whisper.

As the afternoon wears on, I find myself laughing more than I have in months. With Jack, I can be myself—not the perfect wife, not the brilliant student, just Ruby. It’s liberating and terrifying all at once.

But as the shadows lengthen and the city lights flicker to life outside, a familiar dread starts to creep in. Soon, I’ll have to leave this sanctuary and return to the gilded cage of my married life.

Jack seems to sense my shift in mood. “Hey,” he says softly, “you know you can always come here, right? Anytime. Day or night.”

I nod, trying to ignore the question that burns on the tip of my tongue. But I hesitate, unsure if I want to know the answer. Finally, I look at Jack. “The curse,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think about which two of us it’ll be?”

The words hang heavy in the air between us, and I immediately regret asking as Jack’s face tightens, his green eyes darkening. “Rubes,” he begins, his voice low and rough. “I don’t—”

But I cut him off, desperate to change the subject. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. Why don’t I cook us some dinner?”

Before he can protest, I’m already heading for his barely used kitchen. The familiar motions of cooking soothe me, and soon the apartment is filled with the rich aroma of sauteing garlic and herbs.

Jack leans against the counter, watching me with a mixture of amusement and something else—concern, maybe. “You seem different when you cook,” he observes. “Happier.”

I pause, the wooden spoon hovering over the pan. “I guess I am,” I admit softly. “It’s… freeing, in a way. When I’m cooking, I’m not thinking about anything else. I’m just here.”

The unspoken contrast hangs between us. Here, in Jack’s kitchen, cooking is a joy. At home, with Michael, it’s just another duty, another way to try to please him.

As we sit down to eat, Jack takes a bite and groans appreciatively. “God, Rubes, this is amazing. You should be teaching cooking classes, not suffering through whatever boring crap they’ve got you doing at Holloway. Why don’t you talk to Nick? He’d get you out of it right away.”

I freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. “It’s not boring,” I say, perhaps a bit too quickly, and perhaps a bit too defensively. “Actually, I… I kind of love it.”

The moment the word leaves my mouth, I know I’ve said too much. Jack’s eyes narrow slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes me squirm. “Love the class or Valentine Grant?”

When I don’t answer, he rests his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands. Knowing that he’s trying to rein in his temper, I remain quiet.

“Rubes,” he sighs, lifting his face so he can look at me. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for teacher.”

I press my lips together, stubbornly refusing to say anything.

“You’re aware that I know Valentine, right?”

“Yeah,” I squeak.

“He’s not a good person, Ruby.” When I arch an eyebrow, he chuckles. “Okay, okay, none of us are good people. But even by our standards, he’s bad… no, scratch that. He’s the person even the devil fears.”

Feeling like I need to say something, I swallow thickly. “He’s not so bad, actually. He challenges me, makes me think. It’s exciting.”

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