Children Of The Sky (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 2)

Chapter 39

The world felt like it was upside down, and everything ached. It wasn't a sharp ache; it was sort of dull and distant, settled into the marrow of Jack's bones. He stirred with a groan, smelling bread baking and trying to move his right arm, rubbing his face tiredly with his left when he couldn't. That wasn't supposed to happen, though, was it? He hadn't injured it, not that he remembered.  

The room was lit with pale dawn when he opened his heavy eyes, quiet and dim. Jack could hear someone moving downstairs, pans clanking and cupboards being shut. When he saw the ceiling--cream-colored plaster--he settled, knowing he was at Mick's, remembering what'd happened the night before. He remembered it all, the fight, the talking, the drinking--he'd only had one glass, like he'd promised himself, not that it'd helped. And he remembered the pain, the terrible, terrible pain, all over, in his joints and muscles and deep in his bones, like an itch, insatiable, until--

Mick. Until Mick had knocked him out. And Crynia had been there, and Jack remembered the fear in her eyes, the worry, the--

He rubbed his face again, stopping the thoughts in their tracks. When he looked around wearily, he saw he was on a worn couch, and the weight holding his arm down was a child who'd crawled in bed with him and fallen fast asleep. Killian, Mick's second youngest. He was five now, and he'd inherited none of his father's height; he and Jack were akin in that way. He'd gotten the hair, though; Jack fondly ran a hand over the boy's dark locks before lifting his warm little body gently and sliding his arm out so he could sit up.

It was a while before Mick showed up, swinging himself up the stairs from the bakery and shooting Jack an acknowledging look before smiling a little at his sleeping son. Jack eyed him warily, waiting for the lecture he knew was coming. Instead, "Want some breakfast?" was all Mick said.

"Yeah," Jack said, voice raw and hoarse. He was so sore it took him two attempts to get on his feet, and he had to hold the wall to make it to the table across the room. Sitting down felt like the best thing he'd ever done. The windows were open, letting in air that was already warm with summer's touch despite the sun not being up, but the streets were quiet below Mick's little second-storey apartment. "What time is it?"

"Early." Mick smeared jam on a thick piece of bread and set it in front of Jack with a tall glass of water.

It tasted like heaven when Jack bit into it; his eyes fell shut as he chewed. "I forgot how good Bel's bread is fresh," he said between bites.

"Yeah." Mick pulled out a chair and sat down. "You gonna tell me about last night?"

Jack lowered his gaze and took a long drink of water. "Not if I don't have to."

"You get a fresh loaf to take back if you do."

"That's bribery."

"Sure is."

Smiling fleetingly and polishing off the last of his slice, Jack sat back with a wince. "There isn't much to talk about. I had a glass of ale, and it was stupid."

Mick's eyebrow went up. "Just one?"

"Just one."

"You're a bloody lightweight, Captain," said Mick with dire tone, amusement pulling at the corners of his eyes. "Why were you drinking?"

"I was asked to. Squill wanted to celebrate, and I agreed."

"That's all? No hopes to escape your problems, no anger at Rook for sneaking out?"

It didn't surprise Jack that Mick knew about that. Rook had probably gotten grilled. "None of that, I swear." Leaning his elbows on the rough tabletop, Jack brushed his hands over his head and set them on his neck, shutting his eyes and massaging the sore muscles there. His every movement felt tense, stiff. He supposed that was what happened when one's body locked itself up and fought pain for longer than he remembered. "I don't know what I was thinking, Mick," he said. "Maybe I thought it wouldn't affect me if it was just one glass? I don't know." He rubbed his face, hard, and dragged his fingertips down his cheeks, wincing when he found the bruises he'd gotten. Touching them, he found the swelling had gone down well enough, but they were still tender.