Page 34 of Jack Frost
Without Jack's presence, I should be able to focus and get a ton of work done; but an uneasy heaviness settles in my bones, slowing my fingers as I type emails and assemble some research that Alice requested. My brain itches with low-key anxiety—not because of Jack, but because I'm concerned about worsening reports of the fires out west, and I'm worried about the benefit, and I'm concerned that I've made a mistake, taking this job.
Lunch is a quiet affair at a bland chain restaurant that skimps on their sandwich fixings. I scroll through social media on my phone until my anxiety dips into full-fledged despondency at the state of my country in particular and the human race in general.
To soothe myself, I type in "Antarctica" and skim through photos of the breathtaking scenery—black rock jutting from pale beaches, regal arches of ice carved by wind and water, shelves of white with undersides of misty azure.
I almost died in that place. Why do I crave it? I'm entranced by the landscape, lured in like an unwary little fish wriggling nearer to the bioluminescence of a deepwater predator. Or maybe I'm only looking at the pictures because they remind me of a certain stalker ice god.
The afternoon is as dull and productive as the morning. By the time five o'clock rolls around, I've had it. I'm done with myself and my own attitude and Alice's snide remarks about how my 'special friend' didn't show up today.
I don't care. I'mfine.Okay, a guy walked out of my life because I asked him to—that's a good thing. It should not bother me this much, shouldn't suck the joy out of my world like this.
So what if he's gone for good? Mentally I subtract him from my days, my weeks—my life. I remove him from all future meals and evenings. All the surprise encounters are over and done with. I will not see him again, for months, for years, for the rest of forever.
It's fine. Now my life can get back to being clear and simple, with one primary goal—the preservation of the planet and its life forms, in as whole and healthy an environment as possible.
Unfortunately Jack's existence makes that goal more complex, because he's woven into the very fabric of what I'm trying to accomplish. His powers and my connection with him offer a unique opportunity, to do more good than I ever dreamed. Obviously humans have to do their part to conserve, recycle, etc. But having some magical help along the way? Not a bad thing at all.
Jack said I was helping him, just by letting him hang around me. Sure, I was serving in a supportive, secondary role, which I'm not a fan of—but hey, I'm always working as an employee for someone or other. I might as well help out one of Earth's magical god-beings, right? Especially if it achieves actual, visible good. This paper-pushing and lobbying and protesting I've been doing for years hasn't yielded many tangible results. And while my current busywork may be an important part of the process—damndo I want tangible results.
It's too late, though. Instead of working it out with Jack, setting boundaries and figuring out an acceptable way to coexist, I kicked him out of my life completely. What bothers me the most is the loss of a potential teammate in the fight against global warming. That's why my mind is sluggish and my heart is heavy. Not because I miss anyone's sparkling blue eyes and quick smile and inappropriate jokes.
We could have had such a successfulbusinesspartnership.
When I pull into the apartment parking lot, I blow out a sigh because of course, someone has taken my numbered parking spot. Resignedly I drive to the back of the lot, hitch my bag over my shoulder, and slide out of the car.
"What if I left you for good?"
My breath catches, and everything inside me freezes.
Jack is sitting on the trunk of my car, one long leg hitched up and the other one swinging. He tilts his head, lifting his eyebrows. "What if I took you seriously and never came back? What would you do?"
I can't speak, because my throat is swelling, and the backs of my eyes are burning, sparking hot tears that swim across my irises before I can force them back.
Why am I crying? People don't cry about the return of their potential business partners.
"Emery?" Alarm lights his eyes, but it shifts quickly to a wicked satisfaction. "You missed me."
"Shut up," I choke.
"Emery." He slides off the car and wraps me in a fierce hug. I crumple against him for a moment, savoring his scent, and the chill hardness of his body, and the strength of his arms. There's a hint of wood smoke about him—he must have been working today.
"I was just thinking—" I sniff loudly and blink away more incoming tears— "that you and I could have a sort of—business arrangement. You say it helps you regenerate, when you're around me—so that's fine if you want to—hang out—sometimes. And I want to go with you to work sometime, to see what you do."
"A business arrangement."
"Yeah."
"If that's what you need."
I twist out of his arms. "It's whatyouneed. I'm helping you out, doing you a favor."
"Sure, but you can't come with me when I'm working, Emery. I move fast, from point to point all over the globe, and when I'm in an area with wildfires, it's too dangerous."
"I could watch from a distance."
"It would have to be an extremely far distance. The smoke and ash affects the air for miles and miles around."
"I need to see it, Jack."
