Shadowdance(96)

“Mmm,” agreed Lane. “I shall shortly join her, now that my little songbird here is truly sleeping.” His keen gaze darted between Jack and Ian, who sat quiet in his chair. The awkward heaviness of the room increased significantly. “In fact,” Lane said, standing in one graceful move, “I think I shall do so now.” Holding a big hand against his child’s small body, he glanced down at Jack. “Good to see you, Jack.”

Lane left them, and though it was his house, he never questioned Jack’s visit. As if he knew perfectly well that Jack wasn’t here to see him.

Jack rested his arms upon his knees and stared at the dancing flames, Ian’s silent presence like a heavy hand upon his back. He wanted to speak but found his voice had fled.

“How did you know I was here?” Ian’s soft query cracked out like a whip between them.

Jack straightened. “Daisy said you and Lane like to play chess at this hour.” The board lay in play just beside Jack. And it looked as if Ian was losing.

Noting the direction of Jack’s gaze, Ian made a snort of annoyance. “It’s a bloody nightmare in the making. The ignominy of it. I have to defend my honor. But I swear, young Ellis is giving the bastard tips. I think it might be in the form of baby babble code.”

Jack’s mouth twitched, but the dull, heavy ache returned. “I’ve made mistakes.”

At his side Ian stirred, coming forward. “We all do.”

“No. Not like this.” Staring into the fire, he told Ian everything, of his ties with Will and the Nex, of trading blood for information, and of what he’d done to Mary. Just saying it was like regurgitating shredded glass.

Jack’s confession ended in ringing silence. The fire snapped as a log broke, and then Ian sighed. “Fuck me.” A soft curse for the damned. But no condemnation, no mention of his idiocy, just “I take it Miss Chase was rather—”

“As she ought to be,” Jack finished dully. He stared down at his clenched fists. “Deep down I knew that if I treated her badly enough, I’d ruin any hope of her forgiveness. I pushed her away.” Jack closed his eyes. Hell, he excelled at pushing people away. “It wasn’t fear that she’d find out. I knew I didn’t deserve her.”

Ian snorted, a wry sound. “I’ve yet to meet a man head over heels in love who believes himself worthy of his lady.”

Jack tried to smile but couldn’t. “I deserved what I’ve got. And Chase has made it quite clear that she wants nothing more to do with me.” His knuckles turned white. “At any rate, I’m not here for advice. I will fix what I can, however I can.” The image of submitting to Amaros loomed to the fore, and it took a moment to master his voice. “I’m here because… I needed someone to talk to. And you are that person.” Jack shut his mouth and blinked.

Ian cleared his throat, a brusque, sharp sound. “Well. Good.” He cleared it again. “I am glad. That you did, I mean.” He eyed Jack and then spoke just as gruffly. “You’re a man now.”

“And I wasn’t before?” Jack quipped.

“No, you were a pup trying to snarl his way past fear. Now you know better. And I’m bloody proud of you, ye wee bugger.”

Hell. Jack lurched up, his heart throbbing in his throat and his eyes far too hot. He made to go but halted and looked down at Ian, who sat frozen in his chair. Neither man looked directly at the other, each choosing some point in the vicinity of the other’s chin or shoulder. Jack had been an ass. He’d known it. And Ian had never censured him, because he knew exactly why. Suddenly it wasn’t humiliating. It was a gift.

Jack reached out and clamped a hand upon Ian’s shoulder, an ungainly move but necessary. Then he bent down and placed a kiss upon the top of his head. “Tha gaol agam ort, Athair.” I love you, Father.

Ian sucked in a sharp breath, and his hand whipped up to grasp Jack’s wrist in a grip so tight Jack’s bones bent. They both stayed like that, Jack’s hand wound into the fabric of Ian’s shirt, and Ian with a death grip on Jack’s wrist. Then, as if by silent agreement, they both let go.

Jack turned and walked away, a bit lighter and a bit shaken.

“Jack.”

He halted to find Ian standing in front of his chair, his eyes burning and bright. “I’m here for you,” Ian said. “Always. You understand that?”

Jack’s chest constricted, dull pain giving way to sharp. He might never see Ian again. Not like this. Not if fate played its current hand. It was his turn to clear his throat. “That’s why I came.”