Page 84 of It's You
“Really, Jack? Really? You’re some sort of mythical, skinwalking creature of the night? Do you think I’m a total moron? I don’t know what your game is, but?—”
“I think you know that there are unexplainable things in the world.”
She didn’t dispute this. “Please, just stay away from her. She said you’re going north. Please don’t come back.” Her voice had softened as she pleaded with him, and it gave him the opening he needed.
“Willow…” He started, then stopped, wondering if he was making the right decision. He had no other choice. He needed her to believe him, which meant he needed to have this conversation. “What do you know about Phillip?”
“The douchebag who assaulted her then dumped her by postcard while she was at Harvard?”
“That’s the one.”
“How doyouknow about Phillip?”
He ignored her question. “Tap into the medical records for the Lakes Region Medical Center. September 8, 2002. Late night or early morning on the ninth. Check for someone admitted who’d had a very specific accident. Someone who seemed frightened but wouldn’t share any details about his accident. He may have used an assumed name. Read the records. Then we’ll talk.”
“You know, Jack? You show up here, and you make these wild, crazy assertions about yourself, and you mess with my friend’s?—”
“Listen to me.” He growled, then took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I know you love her. I do too. I would never hurt her. I would doanythingfor her. Anything. Check the records, Willow. Let me know what you find.”
He heard her sigh. “She was really, really happy with you, Jack. Last weekend? I’d never seen her so happy. She asked me, ‘Would it be crazy if I loved him?’ I’ve never seen her like that. Not with anyone else.”
Jack’s throat felt thick, and his eyes burned. It wasn’t lost on him that while he had declared his love for Darcy many times, she had yet to return the sentiment, and while the wait wasn’t exactly painful, hearing her say the words was something he wanted, something he was longing for.
He cleared his throat. “What did you tell her?”
“What?”
“What did you tell her? When she asked if it would be crazy?”
“I told her it wouldn’t be crazy. I said you’d waited a lifetime for each other. I told her that love had been known to grow in rockier places.”
Jack’s eyes shuddered closed with relief and gratitude, and he knew deep in his gut that if Willow Broussard ever needed anything from him, he’d be the first to offer her his help.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Check the records.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll do that, Jack.”
He heard the phone click as it hung up, and he rolled down his window, appreciating the fecund humidity that rose out of the rain-soaked forest. It smelled like rotten wood and moss and earth and Darcy and everything that was familiar and good. It smelled of rocky places where good things could still grow.
Jack hadto fill up his tank in Quebec. He also called his mother to let her know he was about ninety minutes away.
“Jacques?”
“C’est moi,Maman.”
“Je ne le trouve pas.” I can’t find him.
“Je vais t’aider à le chercher.” I will help you search for him.
She continued in French. “I try to feel him, but I can’t. I don’t feel him anymore, Jacques. It’s just cold and black when I go inside.”
“Hasn’t this ever happened before?”
“No.” He heard her sob. “Never. Not in forty years.”
“We’ll find him…either way.”
“I don’t hate him. I could never?—”
