Page 111 of Just a Little White Lie

He’s gonna walk in here any second and see me.

“So, how was your day?” he calls down the hallway.

And my smile disappears. “Oh… you know.”

“How’d the performance go? I bet the crew nailed it.”

I clench my jaw, placing my empty glass into the sink and slowly turning around. “Actually, they muffed a few bits and ended feeling pretty stink about it all.”

“No way.” Jack appears in the kitchen with a look of sympathy, which quickly morphs into horror when he spots my face. “What happened?”

He’s across the room in two seconds and gently examining my face. His fingers lightly brush the bruising around my eye. “Did someone hit you?”

“It was an accident.”

“Maverick.” Jack grits out his name.

I wince, but scrunching my nose hurts, so I relax my face with a heavy sigh. “He didn’t mean to. I was trying to break up a fight, and his elbow smashed into me. I was just standing in the wrong place.”

“Don’t you dare.” He steps back with an annoyed huff.

“What?”

“Put the blame onyou. This is Maverick’s fault! He was fighting. He lost his temper, as per usual, and forced you into it. Then you come out with a black eye, and I bet he’s not even sweating.”

“He feels really bad about it.”

“I’m sure.” Jack rolls his eyes, slipping past me to get to the fridge.

“I’m serious. You should have seen the look on his face.”

“I don’t care about his stupid face,” he mutters, pulling a packet of peas out of the freezer. He breaks them up before taking my hand and walking me into the lounge. Gently guiding me to the couch, he sits me down then hisses when he gets a closer look. He’s treating me like a bruised petal, placing a cushion behind my back and laying the cold peas on my cheek.

“Ow,” I whimper.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” His voice is featherlight and tender. It does things to my heart. “It’ll help get the bruising down. Did you get hurt anywhere else?”

“Just my hip. I haven’t looked at it yet.”

He tuts and gets comfortable beside me. I hook my leg over his knee, letting my foot dangle in the air while he slips off my shoes and fusses like a mother hen.

He caresses my forehead with his thumb, and I close my eyes, letting this soothing dance play out. I didn’t realize something so simple could have such a comforting effect. The contrast of Jack’s strong, solid body and the tender way he’s touching me makes my throat ache. I fight off the burn of tears, keeping my lids shut so he can’t see them.

Part of me wants to fall apart. I can curl into him, and he’ll hold me, let me cry it out.

But I don’t want him to get stressed out by my tears. He obviously hates the fact that I’ve been hurt, and again… it does things to my heart.

“I’m just glad he’s out of the group now,” Jack finally murmurs. “At least he can’t hurt you again.”

The comments make my head jolt off the couch. “Out of the group?” The bag of peas slips from my face, landing in my lap with an icy thud. “He better not be.”

His eyebrows jump up. “Hebetterbe! After what he did to you.”

“It was an accident. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“He was fighting when he shouldn’t have been. That’s not accidental. The kid’s freaking feral, and he doesn’t deserve to be a Misfit.”

“He’s the leader of the group.”

---