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The days seemed to stretch on forever when you were trapped in a house by yourself. They bled into one another, making you confused about when the previous one ended and the next one began.
I wasn’t entirely alone, of course; the boys were also living here with me. However, there were times when they’d be gone for hours or even days, leaving me all alone again. That was the reason why I perked up once I heard the familiar stomps and voices, signaling their arrival home.
I pushed myself off the bed, stealing a quick glance at the clock as I did so.
So it was another late night, then.
I’d been in the middle of tinkering with the phone that King had given me, trying to find a way around the restrictions that were placed on it, but it quickly became clear that it was an impossible endeavor.
Where was Damiano when I needed him…
Sighing, I abandoned the phone, categorizing it as a lost cause, and headed over to the living room. Much to my dismay, however, I saw that they had already left.
That was disappointing as I was really looking forward to having some company right about now. If I were to spend any more time talking to myself, it wouldn’t be long until I tried to have a conversation with the plants or the other inanimate objects around the house.
But given the lateness of the hour, the guys were likely exhausted and looking to rest, so I just quietly withdrew to my room once more. On my way there, however, the door to Jack’s bedroom caught my attention. It had been left partially ajar, allowing a sliver of light to escape into the dark hallway.
The sense that something wasn’t quite right nagged at the back of my head, which prompted me to walk over and take a closer look.
I’d already been in Jack’s bedroom once — that time when I got Ace drunk enough so I could steal his keys and snoop around the house — so I wasn’t seeing anything new. Instead, I set my full attention on Jack, who was sitting on his bed with his back facing the door.
He was shirtless — and I made a note in my mind about the tattoo on left his shoulder which I hadn’t previously seen before — but I forgot all about that when I noticed the bloodied rags on the floor next to his bed.
“Holly fuck, Jack.”The words came rushing out of me as I fully stepped into his room. “Are you alright?”
At the sound of my voice, Jack’s body twisted around abruptly, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Ludovica? What are you doing here?”
I halted in my tracks, unsure. “Sorry, I just…” I tried to explain myself, but my attention was fixated on the nasty gashrunning across his side — a knife wound, most likely. “…. I saw that the door was open, so I got worried.”
I knew how much Jack valued his privacy and the explanation sounded kind of flimsy now when I said it out loud. Thankfully, Jack didn’t seem to mind as he only nodded, and turned back to bandaging his hand.
“Are you alright?” I felt the need to ask.
Jack looked back at me. “Of course. We ran into a little trouble earlier, but it’s all settled now.”
“That’s good, then.” I sighed, feeling oddly relieved.
The picture in front of me looked all wrong.I couldn’t help but think.
Jack had always looked composed and put together, so seeing him in this current state — hurt and bleeding on the stark white bedsheets — left me with an ashy taste in my mouth.
After wrapping up his hand, Jack deftly threaded a needle and started to stitch up the diagonal cut that ran down his side toward his hip, but his bandaged hand was quivering, and he struggled to keep it steady while he worked.
Although feeling like I intruding on something private, I quietly proposed to him, “I can help with that, if you want.”
With a frustrated grunt, Jack’s hand tightened into a fist, before relaxing again. He gave me a small nod.
It surprised me how easily he gave in. He seemed like the type of person who hated to have to ask for help.
Happy that he didn’t make a big deal out of it, I walked over to him and knelt down to take a closer look at his wound. It didn’t look too terrible, save for the concerning amount of blood that was on the bed and rags. It was most likely just a surface cut, nothing too serious.
He passed the needle over to me and I continued stitching where he had left off. “Are things always this lively with youboys?” I asked and grinned up at him, trying to lighten up the mood.
Jack just hummed. “This is nothing. Just wait and see what things will be like in a few years.”
I frowned but redirected my attention back to the wound. “Why? What happens then?”
“The Don is going to step down.”
