February 13/14
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Audrey jumped as the phone on her desk vibrated, startling her from the focus she'd finally found. She had put it on vibrate earlier to avoid distractions and, for a brief period, had successfully lost herself in her work.
The night before, she had gone to bed with a strange, comforting feeling. It was ridiculous, but there was no denying it now—she had fallen in love with him. It was more than just attraction. The way he had opened up, the honesty with which he'd laid out his mistakes, his regrets, and his vulnerabilities—it had touched her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen a part of him no one else had. That he trusted her in a way that was reserved for a few people only in his life.
But Audrey had also told herself that she'd keep her feelings to herself. In the end, the thing with Jack – whatever it was – was nothing more than a fleeting connection. This was going nowhere. Jack had his own complicated world, and she had hers. Whatever they shared could only remain platonic. Most likely, in a few weeks, the fire that sometimes came with getting to know someone deeply would burn out. That's what she told herself.
When she finally reached for her phone, her face nevertheless immediately light up as she saw the messages.
Hey
Good morning
Her fingers hovered for a moment before she typed back.
Good morning :)
The response came quickly.
I'm alone
She read it. It meant he had time for a call.
Sorry, can't steal away from the office
The others were here. She felt watched.
No problem. Tired?
Audrey smiled softly, feeling a small warmth at the simplicity of the question.
No. Went to bed quite early yesterday. Compared to the other nights
Another message popped up almost immediately.
Good
Well, maybe not good, sorry for just hanging up
She paused, reading those words, his apology. He had nothing to be sorry for.
Don't worry, she sent back, her fingers moving quickly across the screen. She didn't want to leave him with the impression of caring more about her own sensitivities than his grief. There was too much weight on him already.
Audrey hesitated before typing her next message.
Are you okay?
She hovered over the send button for a second. Should she really bring it up again? Was she reopening a wound he had just started to close? Or was this just a normal, friendly question? With a sigh, she pressed send.
A moment later, Jack replied.
Yes
I guess so
Talking helped. You were right about that. Thank you.
Audrey couldn't help but smile.
I'm there for you, she typed quickly, and then immediately regretted it. It sounded too personal, too emotional—like she was crossing a line she wasn't supposed to cross.
But Jack, as if sensing her discomfort, seemed to catch her right before she went too far.
It means a lot. Thank you.
Audrey, curious, typed another question.
Where are Kim and Chase?
At home. I'm out grocery shopping. Jack replied.
She smiled to herself, then asked, almost casually:
Got any plans for tonight?
His reply was quick.
We'll be home. Sorry.
Audrey felt disappointed. But that wasn't a reason to be sad. There were other evenings to come. Today, she would finally catch up on all the work she'd been neglecting.
Don't apologize. Enjoy the time with them, she typed. And then, before she could stop herself:
What about tomorrow evening?
This time, his answer took longer.
I'll need to check what their plans are.
Audrey froze. Now she suddenly remembered—it was Valentine's Day tomorrow. Had she just invited him to spend it with her? What was she thinking? Wasn't that a little too obvious? It didn't take long for her to start second-guessing herself. What does this say about me? she wondered. She knew Paul had asked her to spend Valentine's Day with him. And yet here she was.
Jack hadn't replied yet. Audrey figured he would probably check with Kim and Chase before he'd write back, or maybe he was trying to figure out what to say. Was he trying to find a polite way to say no? Because her invitation to spend Valentines Day with him was too… personal? She put the phone down, trying to refocus on her work. Each passing minute, she felt more miserable about hanging in the air like this, especially after that least question. But after fifteen minutes, the phone vibrated again.
Guess what just happened
? she replied.
I just got a ticket for texting
She couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she typed:
You text while driving? Naughty boy!
His reply was quick:
Need to use the time I have. First offense 20, subsequent 50 dollars.
Audrey stifled a giggle. How much money do you have? she wrote.
His response came instantly: Enough
Audrey couldn't stop laughing this time.
They texted forth and back quite a while. Audrey's fingers hesitated over the phone screen, a smile still on her face as she waited for a reply. She hadn't even realized how time had flown until Janice suddenly appeared at her desk, startling her.
"Are you coming?" It was lunch time. "Who are you texting?" Janice asked bluntly, her eyes flicking between Audrey's smile and the secure phone in her hand.
Audrey's mind raced for a second, scrambling for something convincing. Janice had always been direct, and now Audrey knew she had to match her tone with something just as straightforward. She forced a calm smile, then glanced up at Janice with a casual shrug.
"Sometimes work is fun," she replied, deliberately taking her time to send off her last message to Jack as she spoke, not giving her the impression that she'd felt caught.
Audrey hoped that would be enough to deflect Janice's curiosity. And sure enough, Janice's eyes briefly landed on the secure line phone—a phone only used for classified projects. Audrey could almost see Janice's mind racing – the answers she wanted to have but guessed they were above her clearance level. If it were anything she needed to know about, she would have already heard of it.
Without another word, Janice nodded, diving no deeper into the topic. Audrey exhaled quietly, relieved. She followed her colleague and a few others to the cafeteria, trying to refocus her thoughts. The phone was still in her pocket, but she didn't text back in the cafeteria. But as she stood in line after lunch, looking for a dessert, her mind wandered back to Jack, to the texts, and that lingering warmth from their conversation.
The small exchanges between them—simple, even playful—had filled her with a warmth that was hard to shake. As she scanned the pastry selection, her attention was pulled again when a familiar voice spoke beside her.
"Audrey," Cassandra said, her voice casual but with that knowing tone that only a seasoned psychologist could have. "How's your project going?"
Audrey's chest tightened slightly, her thoughts immediately jumping to Jack. The "project"—that's how they had referred to him. The ex-forces guy with severe PTSD. She quickly let go of her phone back in her pocket, without having read his latest message.
"It's… going well," Audrey replied, hoping to keep things light. But the way Cassandra looked at her made it clear she wasn't convinced by the vague answer.
They moved through the line together, Audrey now feeling the weight of Cassandra's presence, like an invisible spotlight shining directly on her emotions. As they stepped aside with their coffees and pastries, Cassandra casually asked, "So, any plans for Valentine's Day?"
Audrey blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Um, not really," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "No plans at all? Come on, it's Valentine's Day. If you're not doing anything, you should come over to my place. You know, single ladies' night."
Audrey appreciated the offer. It was thoughtful, and under normal circumstances, she might have considered it. But truth was, that this was the second invitation she had received for tomorrow. Paul had invited her too, though that felt more like an obligation she was avoiding. And actually, there was Jack… her mind kept drifting to him, wondering if they might end up talking late into the night again. She didn't know about what – but they always found something to talk about.
She offered Cassandra a polite smile and shook her head. "Thank you, but I can't."
Cassandra gave her a skeptical look. "You're not back with Paul, are you?" she asked, her tone worried.
Audrey quickly shook her head. "No, no. Paul and I… we're not getting back together." She could feel Cassandra's gaze studying her, looking for any sign that Audrey was hiding something. And in a way, she was.
Cassandra took a sip of her coffee and paused for a moment before asking, "So what are you doing tomorrow?"
Audrey hesitated. She had managed to keep Jack separate from everything else, but Cassandra was a trained psychologist, and her questions were cutting a little too close. Audrey could feel her defenses weakening under that familiar gaze.
Finally, she exhaled softly. "I'll probably spend the evening on the phone."
There it was. She had said it aloud, as clearly as possible. Cassandra would immediately know that she was speaking about the 'project'.
"I see," Cassandra replied softly. She seemed to weigh her next words carefully. "Audrey, I don't want to intervene in your personal life, but as your friend—and as someone who's trained to see these things—I feel like I should say something."
Audrey's heart rate spiked. The same rush of adrenaline she felt when she saw Jack's name on her phone hit her now, but not in a good way. She braced herself for Cassandra's words.
"You blushed when I asked about him. And now you're telling me that you'll be spending the evening talking to him - Valentine's Day." Cassandra's voice was gentle, but the message was clear. "Be careful."
Audrey felt a wave of defensiveness rise up, but she didn't speak. She knew Cassandra wasn't trying to lecture her, but it still stung.
"Do you feel your heart rate picking up when you think about this man?" Cassandra asked, her voice soft but piercing.
Audrey swallowed hard. Of course it had. She couldn't deny it. Just thinking about Jack—about their conversations, was enough to send her pulse racing.
When Audrey didn't respond, Cassandra continued. "Audrey, I need you to think about something. This man—whoever he is, I don't want to know, it's none of my business—carries a lot of baggage. Severe PTSD doesn't just go away. It's a lifelong condition. And you…" she hesitated, "you've got a big heart, but that also makes you vulnerable to developing a 'helper syndrome.' It's when we confuse the need to help someone with romantic feelings. Valentine's Day or not, maybe it's time to look for someone who doesn't come with such a bag full of problems."
Audrey felt a lump forming in her throat. She knew Cassandra was only trying to help, but hearing it laid out so plainly made everything feel heavier.
She nodded slowly, not quite trusting herself to speak. Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her a warm smile. "Just think about it, okay? You deserve someone who's going to lift you up, not weigh you down."
Audrey forced a smile, though her mind was spinning. "Yeah… I'll think about it," she said softly.
As they parted ways, Audrey couldn't help but think about the words Cassandra had spoken. She remembered that she hadn't even read his last message: K and C are going to see a movie tomorrow. I'll be alone.
Audrey stared at the message on the screen, torn between the pull she felt toward him and the warning Cassandra had just given. Could she really keep things platonic? Or was she already falling into the trap Cassandra had warned her about?
With a sigh, she pushed Cassandra's warning out of her mind and wrote back: 7 your time?
The answer came immediately: Perfect.
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Jack thought it was silly, everything he was doing tonight. He felt a bit ridiculous, even aware of how absurd it was to care so much about a phone call with someone 2,000 miles away. But despite that, he wasn't wearing the usual shirt he grabbed for late nights like these, his "cleanest dirty shirt," as the old Kris Kristofferson song went. It was one of the lines that cut too close to the bone, and he hated the song for that exact reason.
Tonight, though, he'd gone out of his way. He had dug out a good shirt, the kind that had been sitting untouched at the bottom of the box of clothes he drove around with him since moving out of the appartment, tossed in the back seat of his old, beat-up car. Kim and Chase always mocked him for it, in a playful way. They had no idea why he had bought such a car. If they had known, they would have probably not brought it up and looked the other way, like they did with any other topic that hinted on his drug abuse. Back in Pacoima, where he had used to live, anything nicer would have been stolen within a week. It had blended in with the drug-riddled streets, a relic that kept him and his car under the radar. But here, in this quiet neighborhood, the car looked out of place, like he was a visitor from a foreign world.
He'd made a mental note two days ago to finally get rid of that car.
Angela was already asleep, the baby monitor on the dinner table. Jack hurried to the door when the pizza delivery arrived, handed over the cash, and set the box on the table. But that didn't seem good enough. Not tonight. For once, he was going to do this right. So, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard. As he tried to slide the hot pizza onto it, he burned his fingers, swearing under his breath. But he laughed too. Was he really doing this? Putting pizza on a plate, as if he were dining in some fancy restaurant, just because of a phone call? With a woman he couldn't even see? The absurdity of it made him shake his head, but the truth was, it did feel like a date—an odd, long-distance date with a woman who meant more to him than he dared to admit.
He dimmed the lights a little, just in case Angela stirred. He told himself it was practical—so the light wouldn't wake her if he had to slip into her room. But deep down, he knew it was just another excuse, because he couldn't bring himself to say it was for the atmosphere. He was good at finding such excuses.
Kim and Chase had left the house about ten minutes ago. The place was finally quiet. Jack was sure they wouldn't be back for hours, so he could relax. He sat down, the pizza in front of him on a proper plate, the atmosphere strangely set.
He called Audrey. She picked up immediately.
"Hey," she said, her voice warm, familiar.
"Hi."
"Happy Valentine's Day," Audrey added, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He hated Valentine's Day. He had always despised it, never understood why people celebrated it. But he pushed that aside for her. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said, his tone softening.
"How are you?" Audrey asked, like she always did.
"Good, actually," Jack replied, smiling to himself. It was no lie. He really felt good right now. He switched the call to speaker, setting the phone down on the table beside the pizza. "I'm having a romantic dinner with myself," he added with a laugh.
"And me," she chimed in, her voice teasing but full of warmth.
That simple addition—"and me"—made something click between them. Tonight, everything felt different. There was some quiet intimacy in their conversation, it was as if they had crossed an invisible line into something different, something neither of them wanted to admit aloud just yet.
"What's on the menu?" Audrey asked, her tone light but curious.
"Pizza. And I even put it on a plate," Jack said, a note of pride in his voice.
"No way. And you're eating it with a knife and fork?" Audrey teased, her tone playful, but there was genuine surprise too. She couldn't imagine him going to all this effort.
"Yes, ma'am," Jack replied, grinning as he banged the knife against the plate for emphasis. "Hear that? Knife and fork. I'm a civilized man tonight. And you?"
Audrey laughed softly. "I worked until 7. Came home... realized I had two and a half hours until dinner, so I made myself some roast chicken with vegetables."
Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You cook?" He was impressed.
"Of course I do," Audrey teased back, a slight edge to her voice, as if mildly offended. "You think I'm a kitchen klutz?"
Jack chuckled, enjoying the easy banter between them. "Maybe. For myself—I know I am." He laughed at his own self-deprecation, leaning back in his chair.
"Well, I'm not. Turns out I can do more than shop for high heels," she teased again, clearly enjoying proving him wrong.
Jack smiled, picturing her in her immaculate, polished life, and it made him feel something—something strange and unexpected. The banter was effortless, but it was the connection beneath it that struck him the most. It wasn't about the pizza or the roast chicken. It was about how natural this felt, also when they were not navigating the stormy waters of his past.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the conversation flowing, the distance between them shrinking with every word. Jack took a bite of his pizza, glancing at the baby monitor every now and then, but his focus was on her, and tonight, the miles between them didn't seem so far.
Audrey poured herself another glass of wine, as she settled into the warm, relaxed atmosphere they'd created together over the past half hour. She was surprised to hear that Jack, in contrast, was drinking water. He hadn't even touched alcohol yet. "It's too early," he had said casually. Audrey couldn't help but be happy about how seriously he was taking his withdrawal.
Audrey hadn't even bothered with a plate, unlike Jack. She laughed at the ridiculous contrast—he was sitting there with his pizza neatly on a plate, eating it with a knife and fork like some refined gentleman, while she was sitting at her kitchen table with a roasting pan in front of her, picking at the chicken directly out of it, sometimes using her fingers as it cooled. When she admitted this to him, there was a moment of silence, until she heard him burst into laughter.
"No way," Jack said, incredulous. "You're eating it straight from the pan? With your fingers?"
"Absolutely," she confessed, laughing. "I'm not that fancy. Who has time for plates?" Fact was that she was hungry. It was past 10 p.m. and she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch – and had to look at that delicious chicken in the oven for the past hour.
"I almost don't believe you," Jack replied, teasing her. "I thought you'd be eating with silver cutlery and fine china."
"Well, that's not happening tonight. Sometimes you just gotta be practical." She laughed, "And besides, you had me smash all my fine China."
Jack laughed, the warmth of it radiating through the phone. He was sure there was enough China left. It was strange to him how easily they could laugh like this, how effortless their conversations had become, even over such trivial. He never expected to feel this kind of comfort with anyone again, let alone over a phone call with someone thousands of miles away.
As their evening progressed, they continued to talk about everything and nothing, time slipping by without notice. Jack was telling her a story about having to get rid of his old car when Angela stirred, her soft whimper filtering through the baby monitor on the table.
"Hold on," Jack said, quickly sliding the phone into his breast pocket. Audrey could hear the rustle of him getting up, moving around quietly, and the sound of his low voice as he calmed Angela down. His voice was tender, patient, the kind of tone that pulled at Audrey's heart.
She couldn't help but feel a warmth settle over her, hearing how gentle Jack was with children. He'd make a great father. Forget the baggage Cassandra had warned her about. His voice, normally so strong and controlled, softened as he spoke to Angela.
She had wanted to ask about how things with Teri had gone after 1988, how their relationship had unraveled over time, but tonight wasn't the night for that. No painful memories tonight. Tonight was different.
When Jack returned from her room, he lay back on the couch, the phone resting on his chest, still on speaker. His voice was more relaxed now, the mood lighter. He started talking about the future, something he rarely did.
"I think I'm going into some kind of mid-life crisis," Jack admitted after a while, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of it.
Audrey, already feeling a little tipsy from the wine, let out a laugh. "Why? Because you're about to turn 42 next week?"
Jack laughed too. She remembered his birthday. He hadn't expected her to. "No," he replied, still grinning. "I'm thinking about buying a motorcycle again. Instead of the old car."
Audrey raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So you'll just… sell the car and have no car at all?"
"Yep," Jack said, knowing how odd it sounded.
"That doesn't sound very clever. Or practical."
"I know," Jack admitted, his tone carrying a hint of self-awareness. "But I don't plan on taking much with me."
Audrey's curiosity was piqued. "Where are you going?" she asked, leaning into the question.
Jack hesitated for a moment, feeling a little silly for what he was about to say. It was an old dream, one he hadn't voiced in twenty years or more. "I'm thinking about driving up Route 101," he finally admitted. "And then… all the way to Alaska."
Audrey listened intently as Jack recounted the details of this long-held dream. It wasn't just some impulsive idea—he and Teri had once talked about this trip, back when they were younger, freer, and hadn't been parents yet. They had planned to take the road north, up Route 101, carrying almost nothing with them, just the two of them and the open road. Back then, they hadn't had the money or the time. Then there had been Kim. But now? Jack had time without end. Too much time, maybe. And enough money, too much maybe.
"That's not mid-life crisis," Audrey concluded softly, her voice filled with understanding. "That sounds like fulfilling a life-long dream."
"It is," Jack agreed, his voice quiet, reflective. "Mid-life crisis is when guys in their forties try to do the things they couldn't when they were 18."
Audrey smiled. "Well, by that definition, maybe you've got it figured out." But she sensed there was more to Jack's dream than just freedom. "I always thought mid-life crisis was getting a sports car and a young girlfriend," she teased.
Jack laughed. "Is that what Paul did?"
Audrey chuckled, her voice light with the haze of wine. "Well… if you think 38 is already his mid-life, then yes."
"Let's hope it isn't," Jack said, genuinely. He didn't wish Paul any harm or a short life. He wanted him to be happy, just… not with Audrey.
She was curious, though. "And after that trip? What comes after Alaska?"
Jack let out a long breath, his thoughts drifting. "I don't think that far ahead. I don't want to make plans."
Audrey nodded, understanding his sentiment. But she couldn't resist pushing a little further. "Well, there's got to be something left on your bucket list. Some dream or another."
Jack thought for a moment before he spoke, his voice quieter now, more introspective. "I'd like to fly again," he said, almost as if admitting it to himself for the first time. "But I'll have to wait at least two months to pass the drug test."
"Where will you fly to?"
"I don't know. Haven't decided yet," he replied, letting his thoughts wander. "Maybe to the Keys. I've heard they look really nice from above. And the weather's always good."
Audrey smiled, picturing Jack flying above the blue waters of the Florida Keys. "That sounds perfect," she said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of someone who truly wanted him to chase his dreams, to think about the future and be happy again.
Audrey swirled the last bit of wine in her glass, feeling the warmth of it seep into her, loosening the guard she usually kept firmly in place. She wasn't supposed to say this, wasn't supposed to let the thought even escape her lips, but the wine pushed her forward in a way her heart welcomed, but her mind didn't.
"Will you ever stop by in DC?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended, almost a whisper. The question hung there, raw, vulnerable.
On the other end of the line, Jack went silent for a moment. The question caught him completely off-guard, though it had been lingering in the back of his mind as well. He hadn't thought Audrey would ever cross the line, asking him so directly, trespassing into the 'personal' area. He wanted to see her, he'd be lying if he said otherwise. "I don't know," he finally breathed, his voice carrying the weight of hesitation.
The truth was, he had thought about it. The idea of seeing her again, face to face, had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. But then what? Could they just fall back into that old chemistry, like that night in DC? Have another one-night stand? The memory of it still burned in his mind. But it wasn't just about that one night. It was everything that followed—the realization that they could never have a real future. She was a high-ranking politician with a career that mattered. He was a washed-up ex-junkie, unemployed, with the one few persons he cared about on the other side of the country. What kind of life could they ever share?
"I don't even know if that'd be a good idea, Audrey," he added quietly, his voice strained, as though saying the words aloud made the truth harder to bear.
Audrey felt a sting, his words landing like a soft punch to her chest. "So you wouldn't even… want to?" she asked, her tone revealing the hurt she was trying to hide.
Jack closed his eyes, hating that he had to hurt her. "I would," he admitted, his voice thick with honesty. "But then what? It's not gonna get us anywhere." He knew exactly what they were talking about now, the unspoken layers beneath the words. They were talking about being together again, about falling into bed like last time. Maybe they were even talking about a little more. He could feel the pull of it, the temptation. But he also knew it was a dead end.
Audrey took a deep breath, the wine giving her courage. "Does it really always have to get you somewhere?" she asked, the question brimming with emotion, her voice carrying both challenge and hope. Couldn't it just be something for now, for tonight, for whenever? Why did it always have to be about the future?
Jack smiled despite himself, hearing the sincerity in her words, mixed with the slight slur of wine in her voice. "Ma'am," he began, half-teasing, but with an edge of seriousness, "I'm the head of the crazy section. Don't compete with me." She might be okay with a one-night stand or even a few nights, but Jack couldn't let her get tangled up in his mess. He knew that much.
And so, even though the idea of seeing her again sent a spark of warmth through him, he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that if he said yes, he would only drag her into the darkness he was still trying to claw his way out of.
"You don't sound like the head of the crazy section tonight," Audrey said, her voice carrying a hint of frustration, her words softened by the alcohol but still sincere. "I'm sorry." She had offered him – she couldn't have offered it any clearer – to pick up where they left off, a month ago. And now she felt rejected.
"Maybe I'm just not drunk enough," Jack replied, quietly. He remembered the last time they had been together—when he'd been on heroin. Sober, he doubted he would have ever let himself get that close to her. Maybe it was his sobriety now that made this all feel even more complicated. "But think about it, Audrey," he continued, his voice taking on a serious tone. He needed her to understand. "This will lead nowhere. Don't waste your time on something crazy."
"Isn't being crazy sometimes good?" Audrey's words were filled with a quiet plea, appealing to his sense of spontaneity, the part of him that thrived on breaking rules and going against the grain.
Jack smiled at that. "Yes, sometimes it is." He leaned his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as he thought about all the times he'd jumped into the crazy, the reckless. It had given him stories, moments, but also scars. "But in the long run, it always hurts." He knew all too well how those kinds of impulses played out. He'd followed too many of them in his life, and they always left him feeling more lost than before.
Audrey was silent for a moment, her thoughts swirling. Then Jack spoke again, his voice soft but firm, trying to bring her back to the present moment, to show here, that the thing they shared right now was already something special in his opinion. "Isn't it crazy that we're here tonight?" he asked, reminding her of the surreal nature of their situation. They were 2000 miles apart, sharing a Valentine's evening together, laughing, talking, connecting in a way that defied any logic or expectation. This was crazy. This was their kind of crazy. This was the level of crazy he could handle right now.
Despite everything he'd said, despite trying to talk some sense into her, Jack couldn't fully let her go. The idea of not having Audrey in his life—even if only as a voice on the phone—was unbearable. She had brought him back from the edge when he needed it most. She was his lifeline, and he couldn't sever that connection, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it. "Maybe having this kind of craziness is enough for a while," he added softly, almost as if he were reassuring himself as much as her, that not going any deeper did not at the same time mean breaking the bond they had right now – and leaving a door open, to whatever might follow.
"Okay," Audrey finally said, her voice carrying a subtle note of disappointment. She wasn't entirely satisfied with the way things were, but at least she took comfort in the fact that Jack also didn't want to let go of their nightly conversations. Those had become a lifeline for both of them, though she had to admit to herself that her heart was more entangled than she'd like to admit.
Jack, on the other hand, was fully aware that he was stringing her along, keeping her entangled in some crazy thing, unable to move something that had a future. He wasn't looking for a relationship, and he certainly didn't want to complicate her life. She wouldn't get back together with Paul, that much was clear. But he figured Audrey wasn't the type to move on, not when her heart was preoccupied by something she was entangled in. Something like this. Maybe she had been looking for someone. He wasn't ready to be anyone's next chapter, not hers, not anyone's. He wanted to be free—but not in the way some men chased freedom. He wasn't interested in flings or meaningless connections. He just didn't want to be tethered, or feel responsible for someone else.
"Maybe you should talk to a guy aged fifty-plus," Jack joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Why? Because all midlife crisis men are bitter disappointments?" Audrey shot back, her teasing tone bringing them out of the heavier moment.
"Exactly. We're not worth the effort."
"Really." Audrey was relieved to feel the tension lifting. "So do you plan on finding a young 18-year-old bartender to impregnate?" she teased, pushing their playful exchange a bit further.
Jack laughed heartily at that, the sound breaking through the melancholy of their earlier words. "No, definitely not." Then, adding to her joke, he revealed something more personal, "I'm good. Just shooting blanks now." He chuckled softly, referring to the vasectomy he'd had a few years back. The decision, like so many others in his life, had been sort-of-the-moment thing, driven by something he couldn't explain back then.
"Oh." Audrey couldn't hide the faint disappointment in her voice. There was something about the idea that tugged at her, a fleeting hope she hadn't even realized she held. "After seeing how good you and Angela get along, I would have bet you were ready for a second round," she said, though she immediately regretted it. She knew she couldn't have more children—her miscarriages with Paul had made that painfully clear. But a small, almost hidden part of her had entertained the idea of Jack… Had she secretly hoped that he could be the father of... no, silly, she told herself, she couldn't carry a child to term. She wouldn't get herself through another painful miscarriage, just not this time from Paul, but from Jack.
"When Teri died, I was done with it," Jack said quietly. His voice carried the weight of loss, but it also held a deep finality. Teri had been the mother of his child—he had known from the moment they had Kim that no one else would ever take that role. "I had it done before I got back on the saddle," he added, referring to the vasectomy, and Audrey could hear the finality of his decision in his words. It had been after one of his first dates with Kate. The thought struck him even then — how crazy it was to start a relationship when he already felt the need to shut down any future possibilities. What kind of man gets a vasectomy right after a first date? He knew, deep down, that he was trying to protect himself, creating a barrier before things could get serious, but it only proved how broken he really was.
And looking back, his decision had served him later well, down in Mexico.
"So you've been in relationships since then?" Audrey asked, cautiously.
"Yes, I have. Just one," Jack answered, his tone reserved, knowing that her curiosity would demand more details. He thought of Kate, of the relationship that had come after Teri. "It took a while. And even then, it wasn't easy." His voice softened with the memory. "I guess it wasn't fair to her to even try."
"Because you hadn't been over Teri," Audrey stated softly, filling in the gaps she could already sense in his story. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt that familiar sting of jealousy rise up again, sharp and uninvited. Why had he tried again, to open himself up to someone else after Teri's death, yet here he was, even refusing to come to D.C.? What did that woman have that she didn't? Why her? Who was she? The questions tumbled through Audrey's mind, stirring an ache in her chest she hadn't anticipated. The thought of him trying to move on with someone else—someone who wasn't her—twisted her feelings in ways she didn't want to admit. And that lady probably was still out there, most likely somewhere close to him in L.A., not 2000 miles away.
"Yeah." Jack's voice was quiet, a reluctant confirmation of a truth he hadn't fully dealt with himself.
Audrey knew the weight of her next words before she even said them, but she needed to ask. "Are you over Teri now?" She wanted him to say yes—wanted to believe that he was moving forward, that he wasn't holding on to his past anymore. It would make it easier for her to understand why he was keeping distance between them. If he wasn't ready for something new, if he still wasn't over Teri, then she could tell herself it wasn't about a lack of attraction or craziness on his part. It was just that he wasn't ready.
"I don't think so," Jack admitted, his voice low. Four years had passed since Teri's death, but it still felt like yesterday in many ways. "I doubt if I'll ever be," he added, sadness lacing his words.
Audrey's heart sank. She had hoped for a different answer, something that would open a door for them, even if just a little. But Jack's grief was still there, wrapped around him like a second skin. He wasn't over Teri, and maybe he never would be. The realization hit her harder than she had expected. Maybe that was why he wasn't going for the crazy thought of coming to DC, just to visit her. She blamed it on that. Because it was easier to lose against a sacred memory of a dead woman.
Audrey decided to shift the conversation, steering it away from relationships and back toward the elusive concept of "freedom" Jack had hinted at. She was still curious about what he really meant. "So what does being free mean then?" she asked. If it wasn't about flings or starting new relationships, what exactly did he want from it?
"Promise you won't laugh," he said, a slight hesitation in his voice.
She couldn't help it—she started laughing immediately, the sound light and genuine. But she managed to stifle it quickly, knowing he was serious. "Tell me," she said, still amused.
Jack knew she'd laugh anyway, even if she tried not to. "Being free means I'll stop wherever I want along the way. I'll sleep wherever I want, whenever I want. I won't comb my hair, I won't take a shower every day, and I'll eat the pizza straight out of the damn carton." He paused, his voice growing a little more playful. "And I'll go 120 on the freeway."
Audrey couldn't help but burst out laughing again. There was something both charming and childlike about his version of freedom—so raw and simple, almost like a rebellious teenager's dream. The freedom to exist without rules, without any expectations. "If you pull through with that plan," she teased, "none of the 18-year-old bartenders are going to look at you anyway."
"I don't care," he said, closing his eyes as he leaned back, the faint smile still on his face. He could imagine it now, that feeling of letting go, of not having to be accountable to anyone or anything.
Audrey's heart softened. He wasn't pulling away from her to be with someone else. This "freedom" he sought wasn't about escaping into another relationship or chasing someone new. It was about something far more personal, more internal. She tried her best to understand that kind of freedom, the one he was chasing. It was different from her idea of freedom—freedom from politics, from obligations. His was about shedding the weight of expectations entirely, living purely in the moment, without strings.
He was just trying to find a way to live and be happy again.
At some point in their conversation, Audrey moved from the kitchen to her bedroom. She wanted him to tell her more about his plans for a trip. But there was not much he could tell her. He planned on being spontaneous- so that meant he wasn't planning it at all. He just had set one point. Alaska. He said that he'd go looking for motorcycles tomorrow. And as he talked to Audrey about his dream, it became clearer and clearer to himself, that nothing was holding him back. He shouldn't just talk about it. He should just do it.
At some point, he heard the car in the driveway. Kim and Chase were back.
And Jack and Audrey said hurried goodbyes on their first ever Valentine's Day.