Page 43 of Tides of Discovery
I pulled Jack’s door closed behind me with a soft click, my heart still racing from everything that had transpired over the past day. The way Jack had looked at me—vulnerable, yes, but also with something deeper flickering in those blue eyes—felt like a revelation. There had been moments over the past week when I’d caught Jack looking at me with an expression I’d never noticed before—something deeper and more tender than friendship. Something was shifting, growing in the space between what we’d always been and what we might become.
I had three weeks left to decide if I wanted our bargain to become something beyond temporary.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cooper
Monday evening, I trudged toward my apartment, fatigue weighing on me. I was still tired from the sleepless night I’d spent taking care of Jack, and the lunch rush had been particularly exhausting. The storm that had threatened all day had moved in off the ocean. Wind howled down the street, and rain pelted the hood of my jacket with increasing ferocity. All I wanted was a hot shower, something warm to eat, and the mindless comfort of whatever was streaming on TV.
I was fumbling with my keys when a flash of lightning illuminated the street in stark white. A crack of thunder shook the building, so loud and close I flinched. My porch light flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.
“Perfect,” I muttered into the darkness. “Just perfect.”
I opened my door and stepped into my pitch-black apartment. The familiar layout meant I could navigate to the kitchen, where I kept a flashlight in the drawer. I swept the beam across my apartment, cold and eerily silent without the usual hum of the refrigerator.
I gathered every candle I owned—mostly unused gifts from well-meaning friends—and set them up around the living room.Their flickering light cast long shadows on the walls. I changed out of my wet jeans and socks and wrapped myself in the throw blanket from the couch as the temperature dropped. The building’s drafty single-pane windows did little to keep out the coastal chill, and without heat, it would get uncomfortable fast.
A text from PG&E confirmed what I already knew: a power outage, estimated restoration time unknown.Great.
I kept the refrigerator door closed, but I found some crackers and peanut butter in the cupboard. Hardly a balanced dinner, but it would do. I huddled on the couch, blanket around my shoulders, and spooned directly from the jar. I tried not to think about how pathetic this scene would look to an observer.
My phone buzzed with a text message. The screen blinded me in the dim room.Jack.
You okay after this weekend?
A warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket spread through my chest. Of course he would check on me, even though he was the one who’d been sick. That was Jack—always thinking of others, always there when needed.
Been better. Going to rest this evening.
I hesitated, not wanting to complain further. But Jack and I had always shared the minor irritations of life, and a power outage certainly qualified.
Power’s out at my place.
His response came quickly:
I have power from a generator.
Before I could reply, another message appeared:
Come stay at my place tonight.
My heart skipped a beat, then quickened. I stared at the message and read it again. It was a perfectly reasonable offer from a best friend—especially one who was supposedly my boyfriend. So why did it make my pulse race?
I’ll be fine. Just need to wait it out.
I set the phone down, then picked it up again when it immediately buzzed with his reply.
Don’t be stubborn. It’s cold, and the storm’s getting worse. I have heat, light, and food. What’s keeping you there?
Pride, maybe. Or the growing awareness that being alone with Jack felt different now—charged with possibilities that hadn’t existed a week ago. What would happen if I spent another evening with him in the intimate warmth of his apartment? He was healthy now. I was already tempted to push past the careful boundaries we’d established, and I wasn’t sure I trusted myself not to reach for more than our agreement allowed. In the sanctuary of his space, with storm winds howling outside and nothing but soft lamplight between us, what lines would I be willing to cross?
Another crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and a fresh gust of wind rattled my windows and found its way inside. The apartment was getting colder by the minute.
Okay. Thanks.
His next text made me smile despite myself:
Coming to get you in my car so you don’t back out. Be there in 10.
