Chapter 66 Chapter Sixty Six
I burst through the front door of the Dawson house at exactly 5:03 PM, breathless and dishevelled, my bag sliding off my shoulder and the Sprite stain on my shirt still damp and cold against my skin.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” I called out, rushing toward the study. “I got caught up with friends and I had to—”
I froze in the doorway.
Martin was there, sitting at the usual table with his textbooks spread out in front of him, looking up at me with a bright, eager smile.
But he wasn’t alone.
Jace sat next to him, leaning back in his chair with one arm draped casually over the back of Martin’s seat.
He had a pencil twirling between his fingers, and there was a notebook open in front of him, as though Jace had actually been helping with homework.
The sight stopped me cold.
“What friends?” Jace’s voice was dark, dangerous. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You mean the ones I saw sitting next to you at lunch? Those friends?"
I felt the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.
Martin, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling between us like a live wire, jumped up from his seat with a huge grin. “Lena! You’re here!”
He rushed over and thrust out his hand for our customary handshake; the one we’d been doing since last Tuesday's tutoring session, where we’d shake three times, bump fists, then snap.
I was happy he’d warned up to me so much. He used to be a little stiff and unsure in the beginning, but ever so slowly he started to get used to my presence.
And now after so many hours spent tutoring him, we were basically friends l.
My eyes drifted up to meet Jace’s intense gaze and all those happy, fulfilling thoughts faded away.
I forced myself to smile and go through the motions even though my heart was hammering and Jace’s eyes were burning holes through my skull.
“Hey, Martin. How was school today?”
“Terrible!” He practically shouted, his face scrunching up in frustration as he took my hand and dragged me over to the table.
“Ms. Tina assigned us this stupid book report on Charlotte’s Web and Rosie wasn’t there to explain it to me because she’s sick, and now I’m going to fail because I don’t understand anything and…”
“Martin.” I gently placed my hand on his shoulder, cutting off his spiral. “Take a breath.”
He did, inhaling deeply and then letting it out in a rush.
I sat down next to him, deliberately choosing the seat that put Martin between me and Jace. “I know it can be frustrating when things don’t go the way you planned. But Rosie being sick isn’t her fault, is Iit”
“No,” Martin admitted reluctantly.
“And would you want her to feel bad about being sick? Would you want her to worry that you’re mad at her?”
“No.” His voice was smaller now.
“That’s what I thought, bud.” I reached over and ruffled his hair, making it stick up at odd angles.
He swatted my hand away and smoothed it back down with his hand, but he was smiling again. “Because you’re a good friend. And good friends are kind even when things are inconvenient. That makes you a good role model too.”
Martin’s face brightened. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Jace rolled his eyes and sighed sarcastically, but I just shook my head at him, unimpressed.
“I miss Rosie,” Martin said quietly.
Something in my chest squeezed tight. I knew what it felt like to miss someone. “I know, buddy. But she’ll be back soon, and until then, we’ll figure this out together. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He pulled out his first draft, six whole pages of barely legible handwriting with sentences that ran together and spelling errors scattered throughout like landmines.
I clearly had my work cut out for me, so I started to sort through the different pages.
I tried to focus. I really did.
But I could feel Jace watching me.
His gaze was heavy and unrelenting, tracking my every movement as I leaned over Martin’s paper and pointed out where he’d confused “their” and “there,” where he’d forgotten punctuation, and where his explanations didn’t quite connect.
“See, here you say Wilbur is scared, but you don’t explain why he’s scared,” I said, tapping the page with my pen. “What was happening in the story that made him feel that way?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure? Try to think about it again. You’ve got this.”
“Oh! Because he thought they were going to kill him and turn him into bacon!” Martin said excitedly.
“Exactly. So write that down.”
Martin bent over his paper, tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he began to write.
I tried to focus on his work and helping him structure his thoughts, but Jace’s presence was suffocating.
I could feel the heat radiating off him even though there was a whole child between us.
I reached for Charlotte’s Web to take a look at a paragraph in it that I thought would be useful in the report, but I accidentally pushed it off the edge of the table.
Jace and I both reached for it at the same time.
Our hands collided over the cover of the book, my fingers brushing against his knuckles.
The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, and I jerked back as though I’d been burned.
But Jace didn’t let go of the book. He held it there, hanging between us, his dark angry eyes boring into mine with such intensity I forgot how to breathe.
The moment stretched impossibly long.
Suddenly I felt the urge to run home and hide from him before he did something we would both regret.
Then Martin grabbed the book from both of us, completely oblivious. “Thanks! I got it.”
I pulled my hand back into my lap, my skin still tingling where we’d touched.
Focus, Lena. Just focus on Martin.
For the next twenty minutes, I managed to keep my attention mostly on the task at hand.
Martin was actually getting the hang of it, his second draft already looking significantly better than his first, although it wasn’t quite up to standard yet.
He was working quietly, occasionally asking me to spell a word or help him with a sentence structure.
I was impressed, usually he never asked for help and just did it anyway.
Now he was finally leaning on me as his tutor, trusting my judgement to help him do the right thing.
Jace hadn’t said anything since his dark comment about my “friends.”
He just sat there. Watching and waiting like a dark ominous cloud. Clearly growing madder and madder that I was basically ignoring him.
Then, without warning, he reached for the glass of water sitting on the table in front of him.
Then he opened up his hand, and he let it fall to the ground, looking me dead in the eyes as he did it.
The glass hit the hardwood floor with a spectacular crash, water and ice exploding across the entire study in a spray of shattered glass.
Martin jumped, his pencil skittering across his paper and leaving a dark line. “Jace! Are you okay?”
“Oh no.” Jace’s voice was flat and emotionless.
“Looks like I dropped my glass and it broke.” His eyes never left mine. “Lena, do you mind coming with me to my bedroom so I can get a new one?”
I stared at him. “Your… bedroom?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why would you keep spare glasses in your bedroom?”
“Convenience.”
“Don’t you know where your own bedroom is?” I asked, my voice tight. “I mean… It’s your own house. Why do you need my help?”
Jace tilted his head, and a dangerous look flickered across his face. “Uh oh. That wasn’t very kind.”
His voice was still that same flat monotone. “Looks like you’re being a bad role model, Princess. What will Martin think?”
Martin was looking between us now, confused but not yet suspicious.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”
Jace stood, and before I could protest, his hand wrapped around my wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make it clear this wasn’t a request. I’d better follow him, or else…
“We’ll be right back, bud,” he said smoothly. “Keep working on that conclusion paragraph, yeah?”
“Okay!” Martin said, already bent back over his paper. “Almost done.”
Jace pulled me out of the study, down the hallway and up the stairs.
I tried to dig my heels in, but he was stronger, and I didn’t want to make a scene that would alert Martin that something was wrong.
We reached his bedroom door. He pushed it open, pulled me inside, and shut it behind us with a loud click.