I shook my head.
"Too bad." He settled in. "You didn't do anything wrong. What happened to his wife and little girl? His fault. Wilde's. Not yours."
"I could have taken the shot. It was a failure of nerve--"
"Not in front of the kid. Even at my worst, I wouldn't have done that."
"I could have shot him after they left. If I hit the girlfriend, well, that's her own fault for hooking up with a guy like Wilde."
He gave me a hard look that said he wouldn't dignify that with a response. I would never have taken that shot.
"I didn't even call Paul until I was back to the car," I said. "I phoned Emma first, and chatted away about the lodge while Wilde was going after his wife and child. Her father could have gotten there and saved her--"
"Never left the house."
I frowned at him.
"Paul called the father," he said. "Told him what happened. Father phoned his daughter's house. Left a message. That's it. Wouldn't have mattered when you called. Never left his goddamned house."
"Which means I didn't explain the situation clearly enough."
"What situation? Same shit Wilde's been pulling for years. Father knew that. You want to blame someone? Blame the idiot who gave her the weapon. Here's a fucking gun. No lessons. No instructions." He shook his head.
"I still feel--"
"Like you could have saved her. You couldn't."
I pulled up my legs and sat cross-legged. After a few minutes of silence, he walked to the door.
I took a deep breath. "Okay, get my shit together or I can mope alone, right?"
He glanced at me, frowning slightly. "No. Not that. Just getting something. Be back."
CHAPTER 4
Jack was gone about twenty minutes. When he returned, he was carrying two steaming cardboard cups.
"Coffee," I said. "You're a mind reader."
"Not coffee. Not for you."
He handed me a cup. The smell of chocolate wafted out. I smiled.
"You need sleep," he said. "Figured you wouldn't take pills."
My dad used to make me hot chocolate when I couldn't fall asleep. I'd mentioned it once to Jack and he'd never forgotten. I wonder sometimes if that's how he sees me. His student, his protegee, his surrogate daughter.
How do I see Jack? Definitely not as a father figure, no matter how many times he brings me hot chocolate. I see him as a mentor. As a friend. And, as I realized this spring, as someone I'd like to be more than a friend. But there's never been a hint of reciprocation, and it's for the best. Jack is not dating material in any way, shape, or form. That's one of the reasons I'd stopped circling Quinn and given it a shot. Which had gone so well . . .
Except it had gone well with Quinn. I'd screwed that up, too. I'd been a disappointment to someone I really hadn't wanted to disappoint.
"Nadia?"
"Thank you, for this." I managed a smile for him as I lifted the cup, then took a deep drink. "Mmm."
"Still warm?"
I nodded and scooted back on the bed and motioned for him to sit on the edge, which he did.