Safe

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Cook

I was a wreck still. Losing Ruth so suddenly felt worse than when I’d realized my mother never really knew how to love her children.

Ruth had been a mother figure, and I hated that I’d been on a yacht on the Aegean Sea when she passed away suddenly from a heart condition nobody knew she’d had.

Luckily, that Greek Islands job was about to end by the time I got the call from Hudson. I made sure my clients—a millionaire Frenchman and his family—had enough food pre-prepped that their au pair could handle cooking it, and gladly accepted the use of the family’s private jet to get back to the States as quickly as I humanly could. Not all my clients were as understanding, but at least the universe chose to balance s**t out somehow.

It turned out I couldn’t stay for long after the funeral in March. Partially, it was the atmosphere of numb shock that lingered around Twin Star Rescue. That place was my only real home in the whole world, and I just…couldn’t stay there right then.

But there was another reason, too. My oldest sister Rhiannon’s daughter was going through rough times, and I needed to be there for her. Samira was my favorite niece, and at sixteen, she’d been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and it had been bad.

Now, at twenty, she had been in remission for a few years and everything looked good, except they’d found a lump on her breast. That, on top of having the loss of Ruth still weighing on me, I got on a bus and went to Nevada.

The thing about my family is that it’s messy as f**k. I have five siblings, and I’m the second youngest at thirty-six. The youngest ones, a set of twins, came when I was six years old. By the time I was sixteen and the twins were ten, all our older siblings had fled the home situation, and when someone finally paid attention, me and the twins were taken and put into the foster system.

For me, it was two years before I turned eighteen and could enlist, but the boys were just ten. Worse than that, they were separated for f****d-up reasons because people are evil.

None of my older siblings could take any of us in, and we didn’t really have any other relatives.

These days, Rhiannon and I were the closest and the rest…well, I tried to email or call them occasionally. Except Danny, one of the twins, because none of us knew where he even was.

* * * *

Samira had been in college when her girlfriend noticed the lump. What a way to come out to your parents, eh? Especially when Rhiannon’s ex, Ahsan, was Muslim, although not super conservative or anything. He didn’t mind that me and some of the other siblings were queer, but facing the fact that his own daughter was…well, that couldn’t be easy.

I got to Sparks around five in the afternoon, then chose to walk from the bus station to Rhiannon’s place two miles away. I liked walking, it gave me time to chill, which was something I really needed after sitting on a bus for…I didn’t even want to know how long total. Sure, the changing from one bus to another gave some relief, but whoa boy, was I not a people person at heart.

Rhiannon lived in a modest little house she was renting since the divorce. Their old house, also a rental, had been too big for her when Samira would only be home during holidays. The divorce had been amicable, but when two medium-to-low-income people divorced, there weren’t assets to divide.

I jogged up the few steps and rang the doorbell.

The door opened and Samira beamed at me. “Uncle Jack!” She threw her arms around me like she had since she was a toddler, then winced.

“Hey now, remember the boobs,” I said, then smirked when she thwacked my arm. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”

“I’m your only—wait, do we know what Uncle Bennie’s kids are?”

“I don’t know if Bennie knows himself.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and stepped inside.

“What’s this about Bennie?” Rhiannon came in from the kitchen. “Hey, kiddo.”

The fact that she was about five and half feet tall and I was six foot five meant nothing to her. As long as I was ten years younger, I was a kiddo to her.

I hugged her longer than I normally would have, and of course she noticed.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Ruth,” she murmured into my ear. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I let her go and straightened my back, wincing.

“Come, let me find you a snack while I make dinner.”

Samira followed us into the kitchen, and soon we were sat at the kitchen table, snacking on hummus and tortilla chips while Rhiannon cooked.

“Where were you last again?” Samira asked.

“The Greek Islands. I have another Bahamas job lined up soon.”

“If I had any talent in cooking, I’d want to become a private chef, too,” she said for the hundredth time.

“Eh, it’s not as fancy as you think.” I didn’t need to elaborate; we’d had this discussion before several times.

Rhiannon’s kitchen had been updated before she moved in. I really liked that. She loved to cook, so having the right kind of space for that was vital. It was her way of destressing and taking care of her people.

“So, how’s the boobs?” I raised a brow at Samira.

Rhiannon chuckled and continued to chop something.

“They took the biopsy yesterday and should call with results tomorrow because they put a rush on it just in case. Either way, I think they’re going to cut the whole tit off just to be sure.” Samira shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Didn’t have much boobage anyway, so…”

I tilted my head and looked at her, trying to figure out if she was being honest. I decided she was, and I nodded slowly. I was glad they were doing everything they could to make sure she’d get any needed treatment as quickly as possible, given her history. Nobody wanted her to have the big C, but life had a funny sense of humor.

“Well, I’m going to hang around for a bit. Just in case you need more hugs.”

“Deal.” She grinned, reaching over the table as if she was going to take my hand, but instead she stole the last chip from the bowl and cackled like a witch.

“Rhiannon, your daughter is bullying me.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you can deal, you delicate flower you.”

* * * *

The results were good, so they gave Samira a choice of keeping her breast if she wanted to. I offered to pay for the DNA test to see if she had that breast cancer gene, and we decided to do that first.

Couple of weeks later, we found out she did, in fact, have the gene, and she opted for double mastectomy.

“Are you absolutely sure, sweetheart?” Ahsan asked her for the second time as we waited in her room, just before they’d roll her into surgery.

“Yes, Dad. I’ve had enough cancer to last a lifetime. This is one part of my body I don’t have to worry about. Besides, if I ever want kids, there are other ways to nourish them.”

Ahsan hugged her gently and sighed. “All right. It’s your body. You get to decide.”

“Now, Uncle Jack and Mom, hugs before they wheel me away.”

I let Rhiannon go first, then bodily moved her into Ahsan’s arms so she could sob in peace.

Samira’s eyes looked wet when I went in to hug her. “Look after her, okay?”

“I will.” I squeezed her just this side of too hard to make her gasp and punch me in the ribs. The door opened and the nurse stepped in. “I’ll see you on the other side, Warrior Princess Fairy.”

I kissed her forehead and let go, wiping my own eyes.

We’d been through several of her surgeries when she was younger. That was why this was such a stressful situation for us. I knew it triggered Rhiannon, and I felt so glad that she was still close with Ahsan and they could support each other.

Oh, and that girlfriend who had found the lump? She’d freaked, knowing Samira’s history with cancer, and she’d ghosted Samira. Yeah, f**k that chick.

* * * *

I stayed with them for longer than I thought I would. Rhiannon had work and Samira needed someone to be there for her while she recovered. She was a thin little thing to begin with, so I spent a lot of time trying to figure out things for her to eat that would keep her nourished when she didn’t want to eat anything at all. The pain medication made her queasy, always had, and since the incisions took time to heal, she was on them for a while.

Then, at the beginning of May, I got an email from Halley, the PA for my next boss. Elise was part of a girl group who were going on a hiatus for the summer. She wanted to stay on her borrowed yacht, and since I’d worked for the girls before, she wanted to hire me. So, Bahamas it would be for a while.

I liked Elise more than the rest of the girls, so I was relieved when Halley told me that they weren’t going to make an appearance.

We’d have the captain, three people of various crew, Elise, her best friend Ravi, Elise’s two security people Ramon and Izzy, and Halley for the first month. After that, some of Elise’s family might join us, but at first, that was it, at least in the current plans.

It would be half work, half vacation for me, too. When Halley subtly let me know that she knew there had been loss in my family and that Elise wanted me to take it easy for a while, I felt my heart squeeze a little.

I’d mentioned the loss of Ruth to Elise directly when she’d called me to check if I was available for this trip. It had been couple of days after the funeral. I supposed she’d heard how tired of everyday existence I was in my voice.

“Sammie?” I lifted my head to look at her.

She raised her brows at me from her spot on the couch. “Wazzup?”

“Halley says we leave in two days.”

“For the Bahamas?”

“Yup.”

She frowned. “Can I come with?”

I was pretty sure if I asked, Elise would say yes. “Your mother would never let you, and you don’t have a valid passport. Besides, you’re feeling better, and didn’t you say you’re going back to school next week?”

Groaning theatrically, she let her arms flop to her sides. “I guess so.”

“I’ll make you a week worth of food. If you’re quick and make me a list, I’ll start cooking today.”

She immediately grabbed her phone and started on said list. “You need to do laundry,” she reminded me.

“Oh, thanks.” I didn’t have many belongings and tended to carry my possessions around in an old army duffel bag.

“No problem,” she murmured as she concentrated on figuring out what she wanted me to make for her.

Food was my love language as much as it was my sister’s, and the whole family liked to take advantage of that, especially when I offered.

Her phone beeped. “Oh, Auntie Billie says hi.”

“Tell her hi back.”

Billie was a year younger than Rhiannon. I knew she felt guilty that she hadn’t been able to take me and the twins in when we were plucked out of the place we’d called home back then, but I never saw it as anything she should be faulted for. She’d been twenty-one and working three jobs to be able to afford community college in Anchorage. She’d lived in a shitty little place with two roommates.

Rhiannon hadn’t been much better off, but she and Ahsan had just gotten married and were figuring their s**t out. Maybe they’d been in a marginally better position to take us in, but they’d lived in their first crappy rental which had no room, and both of them were making f**k all from their two jobs each.

So, no. I didn’t feel like my siblings had done anything wrong. It was a shame Billie couldn’t let go of the past, though, and it would always be something between us.

I went to do my laundry, then Samira sent me her list and I headed out in her car to get the groceries.

I was in the candy aisle, trying to decide what to get Rhiannon, when something in the nearby aisles made an ungodly banging sound. I froze. My ears started ringing and I stopped breathing. I recognized what was going on, but my body checked out anyway.

“Hey, buddy,” someone said next to me.

The guy was half a foot shorter than me, but I could immediately tell he was military. He looked at me with understanding but zero pity.

I felt helpless, because my kind of PTSD just locked me up for a minute or two. It happened incredibly rarely and luckily almost never around other people. Except today.

“So, I can tell by your eyes that this is pretty normal. I’m just gonna hang with you until you unstuck yourself, okay?”

I blinked slowly to show him I understood.

“Must be a b***h to have everything lock up like that. But hey, at least you look like a biker so people won’t mess with you,” he kept talking. “I start to shake and get sweaty. But my dog is good at noticing it before it happens, so that’s helpful. She’s the best girl, even though she’s never been trained for that stuff.”

I listened to him ramble on about his dog, and slowly but surely my jaw unclenched and I could feel the rest of my body follow suit.

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“No problem.” He grinned. “Just, pay it forward and all that. And get an extra treat for yourself.”

“Pet your dog for me?”

“Will do.” He smiled happily and grabbed his basket, then went on his way.

* * * *

Three days later I stepped onto a luxury yacht in Miami, and off we went.

The crew and captain were nice, and one of the crew, Edgar, had been on a same gig with me before, so that was nice.

He and I ended up sharing a bedroom which was more luxurious than anything I’d been to before.

“s**t, this is fancy,” he said, putting his suitcase on the top bunk.

“Seriously.” I tossed my bag onto the lower one.

Even with the normal staff quarters bunk bed setting, this was seriously some rich people s**t.

“How much do you think this boat is worth?” Edgar asked as he peered into the little toilet s***h bathroom we’d be sharing.

“Maybe somewhere around twenty mil? Something like that.”

He whistled and shook his head. “Definitely not for the poor, these things.”

The familiar rumble started, and I kicked off my boots to change them to sandals. I was already wearing board shorts and T-shirt, because it was hot as f**k in Miami this time of year.

Edgar slipped out of the room to go check something or other.

My phone pinged with a text.

The new guy is great. His entourage too. It was Sierra, Twin Star’s office manager and one of my closest friends.

Entourage?

His two besties. Lake and River are twenty-five-ish, then there’s their stray. Rey’s seventeen. Runaway of some sort.

Huh.

What?

Keep me posted. Hudson’s tight-lipped.

Because Lake is a client. Will do. Don’t get sunburned and you better send me a postcard from the Bahamas.

I smiled. Keep the place running, Si. Love you.

Love you too, Cook. Now go cook.

I chuckled. Everyone outside of my immediate family called me Cook. I was almost never Jack to anyone, even though I didn’t have preference.

I carefully took my black chef’s jacket out of the bag and shook it out before hanging it to the closet to straighten. As casually dressed as I was, that jacket was my work uniform now, and I wore it with pride.

“Cook? Wanna come see the kitchen?” Halley called from somewhere in the narrow hallway that was barely wide enough for my shoulders.

She called all the yacht galleys kitchens just to annoy me, but I let it go. It was all the same for me anyway, but they were definitely galleys and not kitchens if you were pedantic about it.

“Coming!” I closed the closet door and got my metaphorical chef’s hat on. I tied my long hair back with a bandanna and smiled. Bahamas, here we come!