Secret Storm (8 page)

"Jack?" Sara touched his leg and he jumped.
"He obviously meant something to you. Talk to me, please."

He finally looked at her. "Meant something to
me?"

Meant something? Is she crazy?
He
opened his mouth, ready to spew out everything that monster had
ever meant to him, but when fear flashed in her eyes, his mouth
snapped shut and he willed his expression to soften, his body to
relax. That fight response ran deep.

He smiled and shook his head. "There's
nothing to talk about."

"Oh please. I know bullshit when I hear
it."

He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch.
"We gotta get ready for the game." He jumped up, grabbed his
backpack and headed for the gym.

Sara stared after him. When Austin started to
follow, she grabbed his arm. "What the hell just happened?"

He shook his head, looking over his shoulder
at Jack, jogging across the field. "I can't...."

Jack didn't have to look back; he could read
Sara's confusion from halfway to the gym. All of a sudden he knew
how to feel—angry. Prentiss might have been dead, but he was still
hurting the people Jack loved the most: his mother, Sara, Austin,
and even Jane.

No. This will not continue. That bastard is
dead and I'm gonna bury him. Forever.

***

"Who do you think Robert Prentiss is?" Jane
said, then waved at Austin, who stood stretching in Bayfield's
dugout.

That very question raced through Sara's mind,
spinning and circling, making her dizzy. She leaned forward in her
seat and gripped the bleachers with both hands. Why wouldn't Jack
talk to her? Last night he'd told her she needed to let someone in
to help with the pain. Why wouldn't he do the same? "It just
doesn't make any sense."

"No kidding. Do you think he's a close
relative? Not his father, though, because they don't have the same
name."

"Could be his stepfather." The only relatives
he ever talked about were his mother and his grandparents. He'd
never mentioned his father—not once. "Do you know anything about
his family?"

Jane shook her head. "He never talks about
his past, except about the pranks he and Austin used to pull as
kids. I've asked him about his family, but he changes the subject.
Austin's quiet about it too."

Sara sighed and watched Jack take his
position behind home plate. When he looked up at the sky, she
followed his gaze. Beyond the outfield fence, dark clouds rolled
and thundered, slowly moving closer.

"You could Google him."

"Oh. No, I don't want to do that. Jack told
me I could trust him. I want to give him the chance to prove
it."

She turned her attention back to the game,
which she actually knew little about. Somehow a runner made it all
the way to third base, shaking his body loose as he inched closer
to home. To the casual observer, Jack didn't seem to be paying
attention to the eager base runner, but she knew better. The batter
swung hard and hit the ball toward the outfield, but just as it
sailed over Austin's head, he leaped up and snagged it, then fired
it right back home.

Jack caught the ball and planted his legs
over the plate. The runner had no choice but to run him over. Bad
idea. Jack threw his shoulder into the guy's chest and knocked him
flat on his back. Tagged. The umpire called the runner out, and
Jack flashed him such a vicious smile that Sara sat back a
little.

Jane gasped. "I think Jack forgot he's not
playing football."

A strong gust of wind blew in from the
outfield and Sara shivered. That had gone beyond the ordinary play
of an aggressive athlete.

The next two batters struck out to end the
half inning, and the Bayfield Bears were about to step up to the
plate.

***

"Storm's coming." Jack watched the sky turn
black.

"No shit." Austin plunked down on the bench.
Thunder crashed right above his head and he jumped. "Oh, you mean
literally."

"What did you think I meant?"

"Seriously?" Austin pulled on his batting
gloves, shoving them down on his fingers. "You know you gotta tell
Sara about your past if you want to have a future with her."

He shrugged, still watching the sky. "What
she doesn't know won't hurt her."
Especially now that Prentiss
is dead.

"But it might hurt you."

"I can take it."

Austin shook his head. He moved closer and
lowered his voice. "I know it's been a long time since your
father—"

Jack cut him off with just a look.

"Sorry. It's been a long time since he...
since it happened." He took a careful step forward. "But if Sara's
important to you, she should know."

"She doesn't need to know anything."

"You're gonna drive her away if you keep this
from her."

"Sinclair, you're on deck," the batting coach
shouted.

Austin picked up his bat. "Think about it,
man. You need her."

Jack scowled and kicked his glove off the
bench.
The past is behind me.
It had taken a long time to
let it go, and he refused to bring it all back now. Why did Sara
need to know about it? Austin only knew because he'd been there for
the whole horrible scene. What good could come from telling
Sara?

"Wheeler!"

He nodded and trotted to the on-deck circle,
where he took a few practice swings, trying to flex the ache out of
his shoulders. Why was he so stiff?

The crowd roared and when he looked up,
Austin hovered over second base. A shadow passed over Jack as he
stepped into the batter's box and waited for the pitch.
I'm
gonna knock the stuffing right out of that ball.

Lightning split the sky and rain poured down
onto the field. He groaned and tipped his head back, shoving his
helmet off and letting the rain soak through him—but it couldn't
soften his hardened heart.

"Game's over, man." Austin smacked him on the
shoulder as he ran by.

In the bleachers, Sara and Jane scrambled for
cover. He felt the sudden need to protect Sara—from the rain, from
the cold. Maybe even from him.

No
,
I can't tell her. Not if I want
to keep her.

***

Sara ran all the way back to the parking lot,
but still, by the time she got to the car, her shirt stuck to her
skin, and her shorts dripped into her shoes. She turned the
defroster on high and waited for the windshield to clear. Jane had
ducked into Austin's car, and Sara wanted to give them a good head
start before following. The spot beside her was empty, which meant
Jack had already left. Should she try to find him or leave him
alone for a while? How would she find him? He didn't drink so he
probably wouldn't be at the bar. Maybe he'd gone straight home.

Not far from the school, she caught sight of
a familiar red Mustang on the side of the road. Jack bent under the
open hood, soaking wet.

Now that's a sight to behold.

His shirt was plastered to his body,
perfectly formed to every angle and plane, and rain dripped from
his long hair into his eyes as he examined the dead engine. He
flipped his hair out of the way, and she watched it flow down his
muscular back. His jeans clung to his ass.

Wow. What am I doing here again? Oh yeah,
help the man.

"Hi handsome. Want a ride?"

The scowl on his face disappeared. "That's my
line, beautiful."

"My car isn't as pretty as yours, but it
runs."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll take it." He
slammed the hood shut and jumped in her car. "Thank you."

"No problem." She looked back at the lonely
Mustang. "Will it be all right there?"

Jack huffed. "Good luck to anyone trying to
steal it."

At his apartment, they scurried across the
parking lot and slammed the door against the pouring rain. "I can't
believe this weather." She wrung out her hair, her rain-soaked
denim shorts so snug she couldn't get her car keys in her pocket.
She just dropped them on the coffee table.

"Let me get you a towel." He dripped across
the living room and pulled a fluffy towel from the closet. "I'm
gonna change clothes real quick. I'll try to find something dry for
you." His bedroom door closed.

"Thanks."
Why the privacy?
She knew
what he looked like naked, and she'd love to see that again. Maybe
he was still shy in this new relationship... or whatever they had
going on.

"I found this for you." He handed her a blue
long-sleeved button-down shirt. "It'll keep you covered. My pants
would fall right off you."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"Not at all." His gaze wandered down her
body. "You can change in my room."

"Okay." She thought about leaving the door
open, but no, if she couldn't watch him take off his clothes, she
wasn't stripping for him either. She pushed it shut and looked
around.

Trophies, posters, and assorted memorabilia
showed her what Jack loved—football, baseball, and muscle cars—but
no family photos. In her tiny room, photos of her parents, her
sisters, her many nieces and nephews, and tons of friends cluttered
every surface. He only had one small framed snapshot of him and his
mother stuck in a back corner on his desk.

No clues to his past here.

She pulled off her wet clothes and bra and
draped them over a chair. Her panties remained relatively dry so
she kept them, and pulled on his huge shirt, buttoning it up to the
collar. After taking a look in the mirror, she decided to undo a
few buttons at the top and the bottom.
That'll get his
attention.

"This is much better, thank you." She stood
in the living room barefoot, hair damp, and barely buttoned.

He looked up from the fridge and caught his
breath. "My shirt never looked so good." His gaze slid over her
body as he checked her out again, not the least bit shy about
it.

She leaned back against the couch, crossing
her legs to reveal a bit of thigh. Not fair, but maybe he would
talk more easily with his brain slightly off-kilter. "So where did
you get old reliable?"

He handed her a bottle of water, a puzzled
look on his face. "Oh, the car." He opened his own water and took a
drink. "My grandfather gave it to me when I went to college. Told
me it was a chick magnet."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's a dirty old man." Jack grinned
affectionately. "He met my grandmother in it and they've been
together ever since."

"That's sweet."

"He's the original owner, and he made me
promise to treat it well."

"Is he your mother's father or your
father's?" she said casually.

"My mom's parents died before I was born. My
grandparents are... from the other side of the family." He
frowned.

Other side of the family? Interesting way
to put it.
"Your father's side?"

His face darkened and his eyes narrowed. "I
don't have a father."

"Anymore," she said. He flinched and she put
her hand gently on his wrist. "Jack, was Robert Prentiss your
father?"

So she figured that much out
, Jack
thought.
Not surprising.
"He was never a father to me."

"All right. I get that." She patted the couch
cushion beside her. "What happened?"

He didn't move. "I don't want to talk about
it." Hadn't he just had this conversation with Austin? "The past is
best left alone."

"Sometimes when you're hurting, you have to
let someone else in to...." Her voice trailed off. "To help. Isn't
that what you told me last night?"

"I'm not hurting."

"Yeah, I believe you." She rolled her eyes.
"But you're still angry."

How did she know? He kept the anger buried
deep inside, well hidden, well controlled. Had he done something to
scare her? "I can handle it."

"I know. I've known you for three years, and
I've never seen you lose control."

Good.

"Until today."

What?

"I don't know much about baseball, but that
hit on the runner looked like a football tackle to me."

"He had it coming."

"Who did?"

Be careful. Don't lose control again—not
in front of Sara.
She was just a little too perceptive. "You're
right. You don't know much about baseball."

She stood and moved close to him. "Let me
help you. This is why I'm going to grad school. Helping people is
what I'm good at."

He stiffened and crossed his arms over his
chest. "Don't psychoanalyze me."

"I'm not. We're just two friends
talking—"

"Friends?" That hurt. "I thought we were more
than friends." Why else would she be wearing his shirt half
unbuttoned, and gaping open in all the right places?

"We've been friends a lot longer than we've
been... anything else." She tried to pull him back to the couch.
"Come on, Jack. You need to—"

"I don't need anything." He snatched his hand
away.

Her eyes flashed. "Why won't you talk to
me?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Then listen to me. You have to let someone
else in—"

"Don't throw that back in my face!"

"Take your own advice for once! You're pretty
good at giving it out. Do you think it doesn't apply to you?"

"I don't need advice."
Stay calm,
Jack.
He crossed his arms over his chest and shoved the anger
down deep.

"Don't give me that BS. I know there's
something you've got to deal with. How can you expect me to trust
you when you won't trust me?"

"I never asked you to trust me."

"No, you told me you'd prove you could be
trusted." She stepped close to him and put her hands behind his
neck, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Prove it to me now."

"I have nothing to prove."

She pushed off him with both hands. "Damn it!
You are so stubborn. Don't you feel anything about this?"