A light rain had started to fall as Evelyn pulled onto the winding gravel road leading to Jack Johnson’s cabin.
The rhythmic hiss of the tires on wet stone mirrored the unease in her chest. She hadn’t planned on coming back this soon—but something about the last time she left had stuck with her. The way Jack held her at the door. That ghost of a grin that said this isn’t over. And maybe it wasn’t.
Evelyn’s eyes sharpened as the tall silhouette of the cabin came into view through the misty twilight. Her car slowed on instinct, heart fluttering, though she would never admit it. But it wasn’t the rustic charm of the place that made her foot ease off the gas—it was the sleek, black Jeep parked confidently in the driveway.
Not Jack’s truck. Definitely not hers.
Her lips parted slightly. Recognition dawned with an edge of disbelief.
Cal.
That name came with a thousand memories. Whispers in the hallway. Late-night notes passed under dorm doors. Jack and Cal had once been nearly inseparable in college—a bond built on sawdust, stolen beer, and secrets behind locked doors. Evelyn had always suspected there was something more beneath the surface. The way Cal used to look at Jack. And the way Jack sometimes let him.
But that was years ago. And now, he was here?
She parked quietly off to the side, shutting the engine and letting the moment breathe. Her hands gripped the wheel a second longer than necessary before she stepped out into the cool air, rain dotting her blazer. She didn’t head straight to the door.
Instead, Evelyn walked the long way around the side of the house, heels soft in the wet grass, staying close to the wooden frame of the cabin like a spy in heels. She caught a sliver of light glowing from behind the curtain in Jack’s front window.
And then she heard it—laughter. Deep, masculine. Not Jack’s.
A second voice followed—Jack’s voice, lower, warmer. Familiar.
Evelyn edged closer, heart pounding harder now, not with hurt… but a hot, crawling curiosity that slid down her neck and settled low in her belly. She wasn’t angry. Not yet. But she was intrigued.
Inside, she glimpsed it: Jack’s broad figure leaning back in a chair at the small table near the fireplace, shirtless, loose jeans riding low on his hips. Cal stood by the window pouring two glasses of dark amber bourbon, sleeves rolled, chest tight beneath a thin white tee that clung in all the right places.
They were laughing—but there was something else. The lean of their bodies. The stillness between words. The familiarity of silence shared.
Evelyn’s hand slid to the windowsill. Her breath misted the glass as she leaned forward just a fraction more. Jack’s voice rose again, quieter now, but with that unmistakable growl that used to make her knees weak.
She couldn’t hear the words. She didn’t need to.
Cal reached across the table and brushed something from Jack’s shoulder—too soft to be casual. Jack didn’t pull away.
A wave of heat surged through her—not jealousy exactly, but something more primal. Arousal, twisted with the thrill of discovery.
She backed away from the window.
She wasn’t going to storm in. She wasn’t going to make a scene. Evelyn Vernier didn’t chase. She confronted.
And so, she circled around to the front door. She didn’t knock.
When the door creaked open, both men turned.
Jack’s eyes met hers first—surprised, then slowly amused. “Evelyn,” he said, voice velvet. “Didn’t expect you tonight.”
Cal looked over his shoulder and froze. “Oh,” he said, blinking. “I… didn’t know we were expecting company.”
Evelyn stepped in slowly, closing the door behind her. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to—not yet. Her eyes scanned the half-drunk glasses on the table, the fire’s glow painting their bare arms and half-open stances. Her gaze lingered on Jack’s chest—on the fresh red scratch just beneath his collarbone.
Not from the lumberyard.
“I was in the area,” she finally said, setting her purse down like it was a chess piece on a board. “Thought I’d stop by.”
Cal cleared his throat and stood. “I should probably—”
Jack cut him off without turning. “No. Stay.”
Evelyn’s lips twitched.
A storm was coming, but it wasn’t outside.
She walked to the fireplace, letting her fingers trail along the mantle, the tension drawing behind her like a satin dress. She turned only when she reached the edge of the room.
“Well,” she said, finally facing them both. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Jack leaned back in his chair, that slow smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “We weren’t.”
Cal shifted uncomfortably, his knuckles white on the bourbon glass.
Evelyn’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “You two always drink shirtless? Or is that just a reunion thing?”
Cal opened his mouth, but Jack answered first.
“It’s whatever it needs to be.”
The three of them stood in silence, the fire crackling, the rain whispering against the roof. Evelyn stepped forward, smooth and powerful, and reached for Jack’s bourbon. She took a sip, licking her lips deliberately as she met Cal’s eyes.
“I always did wonder about you two,” she said softly.
Jack stood then, slow and tall, walking to her like gravity pulled him. “Now you don’t have to wonder.”
He reached out and tucked a damp curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. She didn’t flinch. Instead, her lips parted. And then—
She kissed him.
Hard. Possessive. Deep.
And Jack let her—just enough.
When they broke apart, breathless, Evelyn turned to Cal.
He was frozen—watching them, his arousal impossible to hide.
And Evelyn smiled.
“Well,” she said, pulling Jack’s shirt off the back of the chair and slipping it on over her rain-damp clothes, claiming it, claiming him, for the moment at least. “Let’s see which one of you wants it more.”
Jack’s Page