“Can we table that for now?” I asked Jack.

After a hesitation, he said, “We’ll figure this out, peekôn. But in the meantime, I got something for you.” He grabbed his pack and dug out an orange from my recent crop. “Tess gave this to me for good luck. I want you and me to share it.”

“Like we did the Sprite you gave me.”

He slid me that heart-stopping grin of his, still so sexy, though his face was bruised. “Ouais. I ain’t had fresh fruit since I can remember.” He started peeling.

“You should take it all.”

“Merci, non. I missed your birthday. Consider this a belated party.” He handed me half of the succulent fruit.

His lightheartedness began working its magic on me, my tension easing. “Did I miss yours too?” I suspected so.

He shrugged, taking a bite. “God almighty, woman, you’re a great cook, you know that? Whipped up this orange from scratch.”

I quirked my brows. “You should see what I can do with a pineapple.”

We sat in front of the fire, across from each other, eating that orange. It was like we hadn’t missed any time, hadn’t missed a beat.

“Tell me what’s goan on in that head of yours.” He tossed the peels away, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Keep talking to me.”

“Why have you never shown me the photos in your bag?”

“You went through my pack? Guess I deserved that, non?” When I nodded, he said, “Did you see the book you gave me? The phone with your pictures? I about wore that thing out trying to get my fix of you.”

“Answer the question.”

“I want to look at those photos, but I never do.” Gazing to the right of me, he said, “Doan know if I could hold my emotions.”

“My mom once told me that sometimes you just need to be mad or sad. Sometimes you just need to let it happen.”

The wind picked up, rain pelting the windows. Where was Aric? Over the last three months, when storms had howled, he and I had sat by the fire, reading together.

“Let’s look at them, then,” Jack said, probably to distract me from Death. He moved to sit with his back against the hearth.

Reminding myself how invincible Aric was, I settled in beside Jack.

He offered me his flask.

Oh, screw it. I could die tomorrow. I was severely confused and doubted that my mental state could actually decline. I accepted the whiskey, taking a long swig. Burn. Gasp.

He drew the envelope from his pack, opened it. The first picture was of his mother, sitting with other women around a card table. “Ma mère, Hélène. She was at a boo-ray hall.” Bourré, a gambling card game popular with Cajuns. “This was a few years ago, before things got real bad with her.”

“She was so beautiful, Jack.” With those cheekbones and storm gray eyes, she could’ve been a model.

“Ouais. Pauvre défunte Maman.” That meant poor late mother, but Cajuns used the phrase to say dearly departed, or sainted.

“Did she survive the Flash? You never told me.”

He tensed beside me. “That’s one of those secrets that goes to the grave.”

I parted my lips to press him, but held off. Earlier today he’d confessed he might be about to snap. Now he was sharing these photos, fresh from an argument about Death, after riding for hours with a concussion—and saving me from Baggers.

I would cut Jack some slack.

The next picture was of him, Clotile, his best friend Lionel, and two other Basin kids who’d come to our school. They’d been at some kind of concert, smiling, eyes excited. “We got pickled that night for true.”

I remembered hanging out with lifelong friends: the camaraderie, the inside jokes, the easy laughter. My gaze darted toward the door. Had Aric ever experienced that? Surely he’d had friends before his Touch of Death had come online.

Did he even remember friendship after so long?

Jack’s voice grew thick. “I miss ’em. Especially Clotile.”

I laid my hand on his arm. “Matthew showed me the day when you first met her.”

Jack stiffened beneath my palm. “That wasn’t a very good one for you to see.”

“It only made my feelings for you stronger.”

He relaxed. “Then look all you want, peekôn. I can handle it better now.”

“Why?”

“Before the Flash, I had no control over my life, me. Now, even with all the unknowns and danger, I’m more in charge of my fate than ever before.”

“Really?”

“My problems are my own.” He pinned me with his gaze. “And it’s up to me to figure out solutions.”

This close to him, I could spy even darker flecks of gray in his irises. “That’s really mature, Jack.” He wasn’t a boy anymore.

“I got moments, me.”

“I think a lot of people used to underestimate you. But I also think those days are over. I know I won’t do it again.”

The corners of his lips curved. He could make my entire body go soft just from one of those grins—and he knew it: “Um um um, would you smell that honeysuckle?”

Clever Jack had figured out that I gave off scents with my moods. Rose? Meant I was about to strike. Sweet olive indicated I was excited. And yes, honeysuckle was the equivalent of me purring.

I flipped to another picture, this one of him and the rest of the group swimming at a spring, all of them tanned and laughing.