Page 11 of Deception and New Direction

“Well, this has been fun,”Isaid, grabbing my crutches. “ButIshould probably turn in beforeIget too tired to remember how to use these things properly.”

Jack chuckled, but something flickered behind his eyes—like he knewIwas making a tactical retreat.Hedidn’t call me out on it, though, just nodded.

“Get some rest,Ruthie.”

I hobbled to my room withDashin tow, shutting the door behind me, and exhaled.Icould handle this.Thiswas only temporary.LivingwithJackwouldn’t be weird or complicated at all.Nope.Notat all.

Except for the tiny, insignificant fact that he looked way too good. and had an annoyingly charming way of making me feel… safe.

4

RUTHIE

I had been living withJackfor nearly two weeks now.TheChristmasholiday had passed and we hadn’t killed each other, soIconsidered that a win.

Ellie had mentioned to me that it had been a few years since she andJackhad been able to spend the holidays together because he was often overseas, andIwanted them to be able to have that.JackandElliehad celebrated withWadeand his family, and whileIhad been invited to go with them,I’ddecided to decline and go celebrate with my granddad instead.

SinceIstill couldn’t drive,Jackhad driven me over toGranddad’shouse to drop me off and offered to pick me up when he left the festivities withWadeandEllie.

When we had arrived at my granddad’s house,Jackhad gotten out of the vehicle too, lettingDashout of the back seat.

“Dash wait!”Iyelled to him as he took off.

“He’s good,”Jackreplied, coming over to stand behind me whileIgot situated with my crutches. “He’sheaded straight forHankat the front door.”

Jack began to follow me asImade my way to the front porch.

“You don’t need to help me all the way to the door,Jack.”

“I know, butIwant to,” he replied and continued behind me all the way. “MerryChristmas,Hank.”

“Same to you, boy.Thanksfor bringin’ her.”

“Not a problem at all.I’llswing by whenIleave my sister’s thing.Ify’all aren’t done, thenI’lljust chill and hang out here for a bit.”

And he had.Hecame back and hung out with the two of us for another hour after he returned becauseIwasn’t ready to leave.I’dappreciated that kind gesture, especially becauseI’dknown he hadn’t had to do it.

The biggest issueIhad withJackwas that he hardly let me do anything due to my “condition,” as he called it, but that only made me feel guiltier.Itwasn’t likeIwas trying to move furniture or anything.Ijust wanted to help out.Jackwas renovating his house, and there were definitely thingsIcould lend a hand with sinceJack’snew house was a fixer-upper.

A little over a year ago,Archerhad found an old horse ranch not far fromRangerShield’shome basethat was being sold.Itsat on eight acres, so he and his cousinVinceplanned to split the property and give themselves roughly four acres each.Theywould be close but still have plenty of privacy.

Archer had already begun construction on his home and was hoping to have it finished by the summer.Vincehad wavered back and forth on the design, so his house likely wouldn’t be ready for another ten months or so.

The property had also come with the original house, which was a smallCraftsman-style ranch.Itwas an additional acre of land closer to the main road but still had enough privacy.Jackhad wanted something with good bones that he could fix up but was in decent enough shape that he could move into it right away.Soit made sense for him to buy that one.

He had hired out for the plumbing and electrical work, but he had wanted to do a lot of the other stuff by himself—some of whichIcould easily help him with.

He’d finally relented today by letting me remove the baseboards in the third bedroom.Itwas easy sinceIcould sit on the floor and just scoot myself along asImade progress and didn’t put any weight on my right foot.Ialso painted the cabinets that were going into the laundry room.Itwasn’t much, but it made me feel better.

After my projects were done,Imade my way into the kitchen to make us some dinner.Itwas a cooler day out, so chicken pot pie sounded good.Ihad just pulled it out of the oven whenJackcame into the kitchen.

His hair was damp, so he had obviously just showered.Hehad on a long-sleeved black henley with gray sweatpants.Helooked like someone who modeled clothing for a living.Iwas gladIhad already set the hot dish on the counter, orIwould have burned myself asIstared at him.

He smirked at me, telling me he saw me looking at him.Notwanting to give him the satisfaction of catching me drooling,IpretendedIwas looking at something else.

“That shirt looks a little too small for you,”Itold him asItook off the oven mitts and reached into the drawer to grab a serving spoon. “Ican teach you how to use a washer and dryer properly so you don’t mess up any of your other clothes.”

Ha!Takethat,Mr.SmugFace.

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