Red Moon Rising

60. glances

"Max said that Isaac had made a deal with Paul, that he was in too deep. And Paul...whatever he is, he isn't just a wolf."

"What do you mean?"

"He's different. He sucks the energy from the room. He smells...almost dead, like a wolf but all wrong, all warped."

"Layla," Sage sits up a little straighter. "What does he want with you?"

"Max said that he needed me to break the curse."

"And how would he do that? Why hasn't he done it already?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I don't get it."

I'm suddenly aware of the tension next to me, and when I look at Jack his jaw is clenched tight, muscles tense along his shoulders. Whatever energy he'd entered the room with is gone; he simply looks exhausted, like it's only whatever anxiety is in him now that's keeping him upright. Without thinking, I reach to touch his arm, and he looks quickly up at me, as if I'd shaken him from sleep.

"It's late; let's regroup in the morning. We're all tired and confused and the full moon coming soon isn't helping anyone."

Hayden and Sage exchange a look, but Jack has already turned away from the group. When their gazes turn to me, I force a strained smile and accept Sage's hug goodnight before she and the others filter out of the room. I pause in the door as the others have left, staring at Jack's still, tense back. He knows I'm here, but he won't acknowledge it.

"Jack?"

"You should get some sleep or you're never going to heal up."

"Yeah," I murmur. "You're right. Goodnight."

"Night, Layla."

The voices at the front of the house have disappeared as the others leave through the front door, and I listen to Red humming about the kitchen, filling a kettle for her usual cup of evening tea. As I walk down the hall, I hear Jack sink into the leather couch in the corner of his office with a sigh. He doesn't want me there; he told me to leave. But how many times have I said the same to him? And he's never listened once.

When I step back into the study, Jack is leaned forward on the couch, forehead resting in the palms of his hands. He looks up quickly when I enter, his brown knitting as he looks me over.

"Is everything okay?" He starts to rise but I shake my head, walking over to sit by him on the couch. It's telling, how his instincts guide him. Suddenly his worries are set aside to attend to mine.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Whatever it is that's on your mind."

He breathes a laugh and looks away. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"We both know you're lying. You might as well just tell me."

"Hm." Jack stares at me for a long moment, long enough that I struggle to hold his gaze. It's an appraising look, a wariness in his eye that I don't often see. Finally, he runs a hand over his face and lets go of a ragged sigh. "Why did he go to Black Beach that night?"

"Your dad?"

"Yeah. Why would he do something like that? He had to know what kind of people he was meeting." His gaze suddenly feels heavy on me, brow furrowed, eyes feverishly flitting between my own. I'm aware then, that I came back in order to comfort him, but I don't know if that ability even exists within me anymore. It's unsafe, to ask for his mind without any means to ease it.

"Maybe he didn't have a choice."

"Then why wouldn't he tell anyone? I was with him constantly in the days leading up to...his death. He never said anything. Why wouldn't he let me help him?"