Chapter 10 - Jack

The first twenty-four hours in our new house are tense. Even though I've tried to reassure Lena about my expectations, I don't think she believes me. Over the next few days, I go over all the details in my mind, trying to think of ways I could do it better.

After showing her where the bedrooms were, I could see how uncomfortable she was, so I left her in the master bedroom and set myself up on the couch. Since neither of us are great cooks, we ended up eating sandwiches and not talking much. After that first night, the distance seems to be widening between us. Even if she is sitting right next to me, I can't reach her.

I focus as hard as I can on work, trying to distract myself. The construction supply business is busy enough to keep me occupied, but it's my private projects that really get my mind off things. When I started in carpentry, I just did basic jobs, but along the way I made a few personalized pieces and they were so popular, I still get specific orders from people that want unique items.

On an average morning, I spend a few hours on the phone with suppliers and clients, organizing materials and deliveries for different projects. My secretary takes all the calls for new business, and my boys in the shed work on getting the orders out. While all that's going on, I don't have time to think.

But every morning, as we have our first break, Lena fills my mind. We've lived as a married couple for almost a week, and I don't think I've touched her once.

I don't even know what she does all day. I don't mind at all if she just wants to relax or develop a personal hobby—I'd love to see her enjoying herself in her free time. My only problem is that she doesn't want to talk to me about it.

While the others go out for coffee I head out the back to my workshop to look at my private projects. I'm working on a coffee table that has a coiled dragon as its base that just needs to be finished off and polished. I run my hands over the dark wood, as if it could come alive for me if I carved it just right.

I also have a bed frame I'm working on that has a wreath of tree branches across the headboard, and a set of dining chairs carved with ivy and delicate flowers. Nothing compares to the beauty in the back corner, though.

I approach the rocking horse with an almost hesitant sense of wonder. It's the most intricate item I've ever made, something I've worked on for years as a personal passion project. Up until now, I didn't know what I wanted to do with it.

Now I do. I want to give it to Lena as a gift for our first child.

The thought makes my chest feel tight. I didn't know I could miss someone so much when I was living in the same house with them. The casual, fiery banter we used to share has been nonexistent—I feel like she barely even looks at me.

All I want is to spend time with her. I need to know her dreams and her goals in life, what makes her excited, what could make her sad. I want to hear her voice while she talks, and I don't even care what she talks about.

Just watching her, seeing her smile, the way she tosses her hair, the spark in her eye when she gets animated. She enchants me, and I wish I knew how to show her how much she means to me.

The last thing I want is for her to feel pressured, though. Seeing how she was manhandled by her father, then the way she reacted on our wedding night, I need her to feel safe above all else.

I rub my hand gently on the rocking horse's mane, wondering if Lena would like him. The idea of bringing her into my workshop and showing her my projects is an exciting one, but also gives me just a hint of nerves.

What if she doesn't like them? She might think this is a silly gift for a baby.

A worse thought strikes me then. What if she doesn't even want a baby?

She didn't seem to react well when I mentioned that the cabin had a lot of room for kids. I thought it had just been too early to bring it up, but maybe she doesn't want kids at all.

A knock on the door makes me jump. Betty, my secretary, waves from the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, boss. I've got Sammy on the line, and he wants to know if the concrete he ordered is on its way. I don't have the info on the file."

"Sorry," I answer, getting up and hurrying over. "They didn't have it at the main warehouse, so I had to order from a third party. It's definitely coming today, just not by one of our trucks. I'll talk to him."

I get back to work, fielding calls and working on supply chain issues. For a short while, I'm too distracted to think about Lena. When lunchtime finally arrives, I tell everyone I'll get lunch and head over to the diner to bring back food for my crew.

It's busier than usual and I have to wait a while to put in my order. I shuffle over near the wall to wait, looking around at the packed tables. The waitress is struggling with a huge tray as she hurries to the back table to serve a small family.

Wait a minute.

I feel a chill run through me, just a touch of shock mingled with surprise. I didn't recognize her at first with her hair pulled up under the cap, but it's Lena.

"Lena?" I call out as she comes towards the counter. She sees me, but doesn't smile. Her cheeks are flushed, and little strands of strawberry blond hair are escaping the edges of the cap to frame her face.

"Hi, Jack," she says. "I'm really busy. What do you want?"

I struggle with speech for a few seconds, my mind a complete blank, shaking my head and gesturing helplessly. "What are you doing?"

"Working," she answers. Her face is tense, and her eyes look defeated and dull.

"Why?" I'm still having a hard time putting words together.

She frowns. "To earn my keep, of course."

Even though I can see hungry people in the background starting to look around and other workers at the diner watching us, I can't let her go yet. Not until I get to the bottom of this.

"I told you that you don't have to work. Not unless you really want to. I just—you look so tired and stressed right now, I can't imagine this is a job you'd actually like to do."

She grins just a little. "Not my first choice, to be sure."

"So, why?"

She shakes her head. "I know what you said, but I have to put in my share. I didn't want you to get upset with me."

I run my hand across my face, wondering how to explain this to her. She's starting to look really confused and even a bit hurt, and this is the last thing I wanted to do to her.

"I'm not upset. I told you I don't mind if you don't want to work."

I see a flash of something in her eyes that just might be fear.

"You might say that," she says softly. "But how long until you're yelling at me for not doing enough? I'd rather not wait around for that."

My confusion reaches a point that feels very like pain. I just can't figure this out. Was her entire pack like this?

Or just her family?

My confusion is blown away by a wave of intense, encompassing fury. How dare her father treat her this way? She's been so scarred by his abuse she can't trust anyone.

"I need to get back to work," she says, looking around. "If I don't keep moving, I could get in trouble, and I want to keep my job."

"Do you?" I ask, reaching for her hand. She flinches when I make contact with her skin, but I hold her hand gently, waiting for her to answer.

She nods, watching me. "Yes, I want to keep my job. I don't mind hard work, and I should contribute."

I shake my head. "I just want you to know that you don't have to. I can support us both without any problems. Was it your pack that made you feel like you always had to earn your keep, or just your family?"

Her face shuts down completely. Her eyes go blank, and her lips press her mouth into a straight line as she pulls her hand away from mine and steps away.

"I have to get back to work," she says. "They're waiting for me."

I watch her turn away from me and hurry out the back to get another tray. The front counter calls my order, and I hurry over to grab the bag of food. I'm tempted to stay and try to talk to Lena some more, but I can tell I've made her very uncomfortable, and I don't want to push.

As I drive back to work, I go over the conversation in my mind. I want to get to the bottom of this. I need to understand why she feels like she has to work her fingers to the bone just to feel safe.

I knew her father was a piece of work, but how deep does this go?

My hands clench tightly on the steering wheel as I remember Peter glaring into my face that day over a year ago. I was so shocked to see the crates of guns and God knows what else that filthy bastard was smuggling into his truck. When I caught him, I didn't expect him to fight back.

It takes a real slimeball to persist when he knows he's fucking guilty.

Bae and Decker said they handled it. At the recent meeting, their pack said they had a handle on it. I have to trust that. It's much easier to do it knowing that I rescued Lena from that situation.

But it looks like she's still wearing the scars.

I'll try again to talk to her about this, but in the meantime, the only thing I want is for Lena to feel safe.