On the evening that Evie is finally stable enough to be transported by carriage to their flat in Whitechapel, the twins make their way home. Since Jacob refuses to leave his sister's side, Henry has to drive them, but Jacob is able to carry Evie up the stairs to the third floor by himself.
"Jacob, I can walk. Put me down!" Evie whines, as soon as he lifts her from the carriage, but he simply holds her close and ascends the stairs.
"Not a chance, princess," he chuckles, knowing he's strong enough to overpower her and keep her in his arms.
Evie huffs but reluctantly ceases to argue. Soon, she is lying in her bed, with Jacob standing beside her, looking down at her for any signs of her pain or discomfort.
The flat the two share only has one bedroom, so they each have their own bed in the room. Often, Jacob sleeps on the couch in the main room, not wanting to wake Evie when he comes back from his late-night adventures, after she's gone to sleep. Other nights, he sleeps on the train. Thus, most of the time, Evie has the room to herself.
This night, however, Jacob is glued to her side, refusing to turn away for more than a few moments.
"I'm fine," Evie protests, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.
He can tell she's in pain, so he ignores her lies.
If she was being truthful, Evie would have to admit that his presence comforts her.
"Lay down," Jacob orders, when she tries to sit up in bed. Once she's obeyed him, he adds, "Don't strain yourself. Have some water."
He hands her a glass of water and offers her an usual, encouraging smile. He holds the glass a little longer than necessary when she reaches for it, her hands resting on top of his.
"Jacob?" Evie finally questions, looking at him with concern as she noticed his gentle, glazed-over stare.
"Huh? Oh. Right."
He legs go of the glass, and she nearly drops it, spilling a small amount on the top of her blouse, over her chest.
As he watches this happen, Jacob's eyes go wide. The blouse is white, suddenly see-through, and he quickly notices the curve of her breasts. Tearing his eyes away, he swallows hard and feels how dry his throat is. Luckily, this gives him the perfect opportunity to take the glass from his sister, take a swig from it, and set it down on her bedside table.
"I'll, um… get you another shirt," he mumbles, turning away.
He returns from the other side of the room with a deep green blouse. Jacob hasn't told her this (of course), but it's his favorite. It makes her blue eyes fade slightly to hazel, and he likes this. After handing the garment to the beautiful woman on the bed, he turns away again, allowing her an appropriate amount of privacy to change her shirt.
As soon as he hears a loud, "Ouch!" though, Jacob instantly turns to find his sister quite topless, holding her stomach, which is covered in both bright, fresh blood and dark, dried blood.
"Oh, Evie," Jacob cries, rushing to her to ease her back onto the bed. "It's alright. Just lie back. I'll get you a blanket."
"But I—" she tries to protest, but her brother will have none of it.
He almost – almost – doesn't notice how firm and pert her breasts are, bulging just slightly out of her undergarment.
Jacob nearly runs back to the other side of the room with the blanket he's retrieved from his own bed, rushing to return to her side. Carefully, he drapes the fabric over her body, covering the mouth-watering display of her chest and pale skin. Before he can shut out the thought, he is imagining how soft her skin might feel against his stubbled cheek.
He tears himself quickly from this fantasy and redirects his attention to his sister's comfort. Although she finds herself feeling a bit strange about having been so exposed to her brother, Evie feels something warm in her stomach spreading once again, just as it had done when Jacob's hands were on her hips. It spreads further through her body when her brother kneels beside the bed and takes her hand in both of his.
"Jacob?" Evie asks gently.
When he doesn't reply, simply staring at her with a warm expression, she wiggles her fingers playfully against his palms, startling him back to reality.
"Hmm?" he hums. "You alright?"
Evie nods and offers him a forced smile. It does hurt, especially since she's sat up and taken her shirt off, but she ignores the pain, wanting to comfort him and calm his worry.
"No, you're not," Jacob counters with a sigh, nudging her shoulder lightly with his forehead. "Don't be such a bloody shit, Evie."
He's sure this will make her laugh, and it does.
Once her laughter has faded, she says, "Alright. It hurts. But I am okay. It'll pass. Henry stitched me up well."
There is a pang of jealousy that coils in Jacob's stomach as he thinks of his friend's hands on his sister's bare abdomen, and he can't explain the thought away. It was necessary. She was going to bleed out. He saved her life, and Jacob wasn't skilled enough to do it himself. But he curses himself for not knowing how to stitch up a wound, wishing it had been him who could have taken care of his sister on his own. He wishes he could say, 'We don't need anyone.' But they do.
"What's the matter?" Evie asks, seeing the look of concern on her brother's face as he looks down at the spot where the thick blanket is covering her abdomen.
"Huh? Oh, it's nothing."
She looks at him with an expression of equal concern, saying, "Jacob… Tell me."
"It's nothing," the man insists, but he can't lift his gaze to look at Evie.
"Please, tell me what's bothering you."
"Bloody Hell you are stubborn," Jacob grumbles, finally looking up at her. "I just hate that I needed someone else to help take care of you is all."
"What do you mean?"
"Henry. Stitching you up and all. That should've been me. But I'm a useless piece of shit, and I'm incapable of—"
"Jacob Frye!" Evie cries, wanting to sit up but unable to do so. "Don't you say such things!"
"I shouldn't have needed another bloke to take care of my own sister!"
"People need friends, Jacob. No one can do everything themselves."
"Yeah, well… I wish I could."
Sighing, Evie asks, "Why?"
"Because I care about you, alright? Bloody Hell. I want to be a good brother, like Father would have wanted."
"Jacob… You are a good brother…"
But Evie knows there is both truth and untruth in the statement. In some ways – always being there, always wanting what was best for her – he was a wonderful brother. In other ways – mostly, his insistence on verbal abuse and conflict – he was rubbish as a brother, and rubbish as a friend. But Evie doesn't need a friend. She needs her brother. And she needs… She doesn't know what.
"I have been nothing of the sort, Evie Frye, and you are well aware of the fact," Jacob finally asserts. Then, he tells her, "But I intend to change that."
"What do you mean?"
"I will never, ever let anything hurt you, ever again."
"Oh, Jacob. Don't be ridiculous. The life we lead… danger is everywhere. We're both resigned to it. We've accepted this lifestyle. These missions. We've vowed to strive for the good of the people."
"No, Evie. You vowed to strive for the good of the people. I simply followed you and enjoyed the fights I got into along the way."
"What?" Evie gawks, staring blankly in disbelief.
"You've always been a better daughter to our parents than I was a son. You've always had the greater good at heart. Always strived to do better, to help others. I just… look for a good time… and stick around to make sure you don't get into too much trouble," Jacob confesses. "But I failed you. You could've died because of my negligence. And it won't happen again."
"Your negligence?"
"Yes."
"In what sense?"
"In the sense that I should have gone with you. I shouldn't have let you go alone."
Evie stares, slack jawed, then finally asks, "You don't wish you'd just stopped me?"
With a heavy sigh, her brother replies, "No. I have no right to stop you from followed your aspirations and doing what you feel is right. I should have supported you in your endeavors, however, rather than simply letting you chase your dreams alone."
"Oh, Jacob…"
Evie is smiling softly as a light blush rises to Jacob's cheeks.
Without thinking or considering her words carefully, Evie muses, "You are so tragically handsome when your cheeks turn pink like that."
Tragically handsome. Jacob repeats the words mentally, his head spinning rapidly as the room becomes exceedingly blurry.
"Jacob?" Evie asks, seeing her brother's look of intense confusion.
At first, he can't find the words, but when she shocks him back to reality by wiggling her fingers slightly between his palms, Jacob musters the courage to say, "And you are tragically beautiful when you smile."
As soon as the words hit her ears, Evie feels her heart pounding hard in her chest, once again swelling as though it might explode or burst from her rib cage. Feeling a similar sensation, Jacob's cheeks burn a brighter shade of pink as he looks away from Evie's piecing gaze.
I shouldn't say such things to my sister, Jacob thinks. But the words are so painfully true.
Evie recaptures her brother's attention quickly by threading her fingers through his soft locks of hair and stroking it. As he lifts his head, her hand remains carefully placed on the back of his head.
After a pause, she offers, "Come, Jacob. Don't kneel on the floor. Sit beside me on the bed."
Jacob can't tell if this is an order or a plea, but either way, he obeys, rising from his kneeling position, dusting off his pants, and sits down beside his sister on the bed. When she puts her hand on his thigh, he nearly jumps from being startled by her touch, but manages to hide his surprise.
"You should rest," Jacob says, after a few more moments of silence that hung awkwardly between them.
Evie lies, "I'm not tired," and smiles at him.
"Your drooping eyes say differently."
Evie huffs, but can't maintain the lie, so she simply looks up at him with her lower lip stuck out in a pouting expression. Seeing this, Jacob is suddenly reminded of all the women he's kissed, none with lips as perfect as Evie's. None of the kisses had been particularly meaningful to Jacob, but some of them were memorable enough. Most of them were forgotten in a drunken haze. But here, now… Jacob finds himself staring once more, captivated by the insistent radiance of his sister's relentless beauty.
Then, he recognizes the sentiment of longing. He wants to kiss her.
The woman's stomach drops when she finally realizes what he's staring at. For a man so hardened, his lips look regrettably soft, and very quickly, Evie is thinking something similar. But her brother turns away just in time to distract her from the thought.
"Goodnight, Evie," Jacob says, the tone of his voice colder than it has been since Evie was injured at the docks.
He stands before she can protest his exit.
Jacob lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling, picturing the image he knows he must let go of. But the fantasy is relentless, repeatedly assaulting him each time he tries to close his eyes and clear his mind. The gates of sleep turn him away continually as he tries and tries to enter their comforting haven. Eventually, he gives up on rest and sits up, pushing the blanket down to his waist and changing his position so that he is upright, leaning against the back of the couch.
"Oh, Evie," Jacob breathes. "What the hell is the matter with me?"
In the morning, after very little sleep, Jacob brings his sister a humble tray of bread with cheese and some milk.
"Evie," he says softly, placing his hand on her shoulder to wake her. "It's time to wake. I brought you breakfast."
She doesn't wake to the sound of his voice, but rather the touch of his hand, and when her eyes flutter open to find him looking down at her, tray in hand, she smiles warmly at him. The smile fades quickly when her consciousness kicks in and feels the intensity of the pain in her gut from her slowly healing wound.
"Bloody Hell," Evie curses, reaching up to cover her face with her hands.
She almost screams, but manages to swallow the sound. Jacob is beside her on the bed in an instant after setting the tray down on the nightstand, his hands on her arms.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asks urgently, offering her biceps a gentle squeeze to ground her and remind her of his presence.
"No, I'm…" she starts, then feels his hands on her. "I'm fine."
Jacob knows he should let go now, but can't bring himself to pull his hands away. He's stunned by her muscles, and he now knows why he has been consistently surprised at her strength, on several occasions. He's never doubted her abilities. Following her to the docks the week prior had only been a precaution. He's always known how capable she was, but still… feeling the muscles flexed beneath his hands sends a tiny lightning strike down his spine. Only then does he release her.
"Jacob?" she asks, brow furrowed by his sudden daze.
"Yes," he replies, but doesn't seem to shake from his stupor as he stares into the piercing blue eyes that match his own.
"Jacob," she repeats, more sternly.
This time, he responds, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind.
"Yes. Yes. Sorry."
"Where'd you go, just then?"
"What? Nowhere."
"Jacob," Evie croons.
"Don't say my name like that," her brother warns, looking away.
Heart thrumming, she gathers the bravery to reach out and turn his face back to her, saying, "I'll say your name however I'd like, Jacob Ethan Frye."
Swallowing hard, Jacob visibly shivers at the use of his full name.
"Evie Elizabeth Frye," he retorts, once recovered.
His reply is slow, preceded by an embarrassing pause, and loses its effectiveness, causing his sister to simply smirk at him triumphantly.
"Now," Evie continues, after another bout of silence. "Where did you go?"
"Mountain climbing," Jacob quips, teasing her defiantly.
"You insolent bastard," Evie laughs heartily. Once the humor fades, she says, "So many secrets, Jacob. One will never know where it is you go in your mind to escape this troubled world."
Escape? Jacob is thinking. Hardly. It is within my mind that I am trapped.
But he does not verbalize this. Cannot. So he offers her a small smile as he reaches out and strokes her pale cheek with his thumb.
Then, Jacob chuckles, "I am a bastard, aren't I?"
Rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile, Evie watches her brother smirk back at her. Her smile fades, though, when she is surprised by the warm pressure of Jacob's lips on her forehead.
"You love it, though," he says softly, then straightens and rises from his seat on the edge of her bed. "Eat your breakfast."
The next days are long and painful, but shortly, Evie is able to sit up in bed with only a small amount of discomfort. Her wounds heal slower than she would like, but eventually, she is also able to walk around the tiny flat and move out to the main room to sit with her brother on the lounge during the day. Slowly, Jacob dares to leave her side, venturing only as far as the closest shops to fetch food and drink. Only Henry stops by to check in. Jacob refuses to see anyone else, and refuses to discuss gang business with anyone before his sister is fully healed and ready to participate in the conquests.
"London can wait," he'd told his sister. "I'm staying with you until you're well enough to join us."
She'd insisted that he continue their missions without her for the time being, but he continues to refuse, stating that her wellness is his priority, not the people of London.
He finds himself enjoying the time he spends with his sister, the kind of time they haven't shared since they were young. Just talking. Talking in ways they never really had, learning things about each other that they'd never known and never dared to ask.
"Where do you go at night?" Evie asks him one night, after a small supper.
Jacob had splurged on oranges and wine, and they're both a little drunk by the time she asks this.
"Brothels, mostly," Jacob laughs, taking a large swig directly from the wine bottle.
"Come on, Jacob. Be serious."
When he sees the expression of playful curiosity fade from Evie's features, Jacob is caught off guard.
He pauses, then replies with a shrug, "I am being serious."
She blinks at him, takes the bottle, drinks from it, then stares at him. The harder she thinks about this, trying to detect a lie in his tone, the tighter she grips the bottle in her hands. When he tries to take it from her and feels how tightly she's clutching it, his eyes go slightly wide.
"What?" he asks. "Are you really so surprised? Surely, you know I'm a sleazy bastard. You've said so yourself."
"Well, I didn't think… I…"
Eyebrows raised, Jacob presses, "Didn't think what? Didn't think that I was such a promiscuous whore?"
"No. I didn't think that you needed to lower your standards to such a degree in order to get someone to sleep with you."
She hadn't said 'a woman.' She'd said 'someone.' And Jacob picked up on this immediately.
"Someone?"
"Well… Yes. Someone."
"Do you… Do you think I'm gay, Evie?" Jacob asks, bursting out laughing.
"Well, I don't know!" she cries, exasperated and embarrassed. "I didn't want to assume! You never talk about it!"
Once his laughter fades, Jacob becomes calm and replies seriously, "You never asked." After a pause, he adds, "Would it bother you if I was?"
Evie responds without hesitation, "No."
Finally managing to pry the wine bottle from her vice grip, Jacob takes a large drink, nearly emptying the last of its contents, and tells her, "Well, I'm not."
"Alright. It doesn't matter."
"You don't care?"
"Of course not. You're my brother, and I'll support you in whoever you love."
"That's horse shit, if I've ever heard any," Jacob laughs loudly. "You've hated every girl I've been with that you've met."
"What are you talking about? You've never mentioned that you were—"
"I may not have told you I was seeing them intimately, but you certainly expressed who you liked and didn't like out of my circle of 'friends.'"
"Why didn't you just tell me who you were with?"
"Firstly, because it was none of your business. Secondly, because I didn't think it would matter. And thirdly, because you hated all of them."
"Well, then you have very poor taste in women," Evie quips, huffing and crossing her arms.
"Perhaps," Jacob muses, shrugging his shoulders and watching his sister's expression fade from mildly irritated to fully unamused. "But what about your taste in men?"
"Pardon me?"
"Your taste in men."
"What men?"
"So, you like women then?"
"What? No! Gods, you're such a brat!"
"I wouldn't care if you did, you know."
"Shut up, Jacob," Evie warns, slurring slightly and scowling at him before jerking the bottle of wine from his hands to take the very last swig of its contents.
"You're drunk," the man chuckles, smiling brightly at her. "I am certainly glad I only brought back one bottle of wine."
"What a useless brother you are, Jacob, stopping me before I'm finished!" Evie teases, her seriousness fading away.
"I can go get more," he jokes, starting to stand.
"Wait," she blurts quickly, looking panicked. "Jacob. Don't go."
With a playfully raised eyebrow, Jacob sits back down beside his sister on the couch and smiles at her.
"It's alright, love," he says. "I won't go until you send me away."
"I don't want to send you away," Evie tells him honestly.
"Good. Because I don't want to go." Jacob looks into Evie's eyes for what feels like a long while before reaching out to stroke her cheek with his thumb, saying, "I don't ever want to leave your side. I can't risk you getting hurt again."
"I'll be fine, Jacob. You worry too much."
When her brother doesn't pull his hand away or drop his gaze, Evie begins to blush slightly. At first, she dismisses the warmth radiating from her cheeks, explaining it away as a result of the alcohol, but when he shifts his weight slightly, moving his body just a little closer to hers, the feeling intensifies.
The woman's lips part slightly before her brother finally pulls away, suddenly shaken from another one of his trances.
"You should rest," Jacob says abruptly. "It's getting late."
Evie offers no reply, so Jacob stands and scoops her carefully into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. His face is shockingly close to hers as he leans over her and tucks the covers under her shoulders. He tries to pull away, but stops when he once again notices the flawless curves of his sister's lips. As he hovers above her, Evie stares through the dim moonlight and into his electric blue eyes.
They are locked in this moment, frozen by this connection, and neither of them moves for quite some time, until Jacob suddenly pulls away, saying a short, "Goodnight," and turning away.
To Evie's surprise, he doesn't go to his bed. He leaves the room.
