Absolution(65)

Jack reached for her hand, holding on tight. He tried to conjure up some sage words of comfort, but they refused to come. Eventually, she turned to him and smiled through the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to blurt out all this stuff.”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You should feel honoured. I don’t babble my secrets to just anyone.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ll keep your secrets safe.”

A breathless mixture of fear and longing danced within her eyes.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked tentatively. “Maybe we can order pizza or something?”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”





CHAPTER 12




“If you get a chance, take it.

If it changes your life, let it.”

- Harvey MacKay




Jack took another enthusiastic bite of pizza and Ally smiled to herself. The warm glow she was experiencing was a seamless blend of alcohol and sheer happiness. Just being with Jack seemed so surreal, but throw alcohol into the mix and suddenly ‘surreal’ took on a whole new twist. She appreciated that the beer took the edge off the awkwardness she had worried would plague them. They had come up against plenty of that tonight, but in spite of all of it, she was relaxed and enjoying his company.

She took a bite of pizza, feeling slightly squeamish as she recalled babbling in the car earlier. She had said things that she never would have said had she been stone cold sober, but somehow it was okay. He hadn’t backed away in fear or run in the opposite direction. She had found herself talking to him easily sometimes – a little too easily, not that he seemed concerned about that. In fact, she thought as she watched him help himself to another slice of pizza, he seemed pretty relaxed.

The music coming from her iPod dock seemed to fill up the silence between them, Adam Duritz’s sultry voice swirling around them as he sang about the price of a memory being the sorrow it brings. Very fitting, she thought, taking another sip of her beer, eyeing him over the top of the bottle.

“You know, every time I hear this song I think of that night.”

It took him a moment, but he smiled over at her, the fog lifting. “I remember. Best road tripping song, ever.”

“And best get-you-in-the-mood-for-a-night-on-the-town song ever. And best Sunday-morning-lazy-breakfast song ever,” she said. “It’s also a pretty good hiding-from-the-world song, too.”

His smile faded, but he nodded in agreement. She shook her head, amazed at the lack of control she had over her mouth tonight. Maybe she was more smashed than she thought.

She attended to the last of her pizza, washing it down with more beer, just as a new song filled the room. This one had altogether too many memories attached to it and she began to wonder if she should switch off the iPod and risk the awkward silence. As she mulled over her options, Eddie Vedder growled sensuously about five horizons revolving around her soul.

“I should’ve known this song would be on there somewhere,” he said.

She smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Vedder’s voice surrounded her with memories. Jack picked up his beer and took a sip, placing it back on the table. Then he stood up and walked around to stand in front of her, holding his hand out.

“C’mon,” he prompted gently. “Dance with me.”

She stared up at him, the last vestiges of a smile disappearing from her face. “What?”

“You heard me. Dance with me – right here, right now.”

She waited for some sign that he was just kidding around, but she didn’t find any. She waved his hand away. “What are you talking about?”

“We can do this, I’ve been thinking about it since Barney’s. Let me show you?”

She shook her head, about to tell him that he was crazy, her heart threatening to jump into her throat.

“Come on,” he pleaded, taking her hand in his. “Trust me. Please?”

He seemed to be so sure of himself, so eager to please, that she found herself doing just that. His gaze enveloped her, drawing her in and wrapping her in a thick, warm cloak of reassurance until she was nodding up at him.

“You just need to stand up,” he said, releasing her hand. “I’ll do the rest.”