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"Everything's fine," I assure him, brushing a hand through my hair in an attempt to smooth it down, the heat of the moment still lingering on my skin. "Just had a... discussion with Julian. It got a bit intense." My words are vague, skirting the truth as much as I can without blatantly lying, and not diving into the specifics of how deeply Julian affects me.
Jack doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he nods, accepting my explanation for now. With a deep breath, he folds his arms, his demeanor shifting into that of the protective brother I've come to recognize over the years. He has something else he wants to discuss. Thank fuck.
"I’m worried about you," he says, his tone serious. "With the break-in, the pressure with your boss, and with…” His voice trails off, and he clears his throat. “Well, anyway. I don't like it. I don't like the idea of you continuing with this project.”
It takes a moment for me to process what Jack is saying. “What?” I ask, blinking with confusion.
“I think you should let this one go, Nat,” he explains. Take a transfer if you can, or some time off if you have to.” He takes a step towards me, but I back away, maintaining my distance. Jack continues, “It's not just the physical safety; it's a lot for one person to handle. You've been through enough as it is, and I think you need a break."
Irritation flashes at his words. The suggestion that I might not be able to handle my responsibilities stings, especially coming from him. I thought he respected me as an adult, that he understood how much I need this.
"I appreciate the concern, Jack, but I can handle it," I reply, a bit sharper than intended. "I need to be here. This project is important to me, professionally and personally. I'm not going to walk away just because it's tough."
Jack frowns deeper, clearly worried. "Look, I know you, Nat. When you're really invested like this, you don't always see the toll it takes. All I'm saying is just... be careful, okay?"
His words are laced with genuine concern, and though aggravating, they're not entirely untrue. He's right: this is a lot. Not just the project, but also the delicate dance I'm doing with my own emotions, especially concerning Julian.
I glance out the window, catching a quick glimpse of Julian as he joins the rest of his crew. The window between us feels thick as cinderblock; a physical manifestation of the emotional distance he insists upon maintaining.
Guilt twists in my stomach as the morning's events replay in my mind. Julian was clear with his boundaries, and I pushed him. It wasn't intentional; I didn't mean to seduce him in some manipulative attempt to get him to commit. I’m sure he has his reasons, and I want to respect them, but I'm apparently incapable of controlling myself around him.
Unfortunately, the combination continues to result in a turbulent mix of passion and pain.
And the pattern keeps repeating: the pull toward each other, the push for space, and the inevitable whirlwind that follows each unavoidable encounter. It's exhilarating, but utterly exhausting.
"Thanks, Jack. I'll be careful," I assure him, forcing a smile as I let go of my irritation. "I appreciate you looking out for me."
Jack stares at me for a moment before answering. “But you're not going to quit.”
“I'm not going to quit,” I affirm.
With a sigh, Jack relents, and the two of us set up our equipment to begin the intricate work of restoring the Grand Hall, sharing an unspoken agreement not to mention the paint brushes scattered across the floor. Despite my swirling thoughts, I find comfort in the familiar rhythms of our teamwork.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with my brother. He was always a brilliant artist, and very seldom have we had reason to combine our skills. I focus on the technical aspects of interior design—measurements, framework, materials—while Jack, with his specialized skills in art restoration, meticulously applies his expertise to the fine details of the frescoes.
We choose a wall adorned with a particularly elaborate scene depicting a tranquil garden, its colors faded and edges cracked from time. As we work, the energy flows easily between us. We haven't worked together in a professional capacity like this in a long time, but it feels as easy as any other project we collaborated on through the years, all the way back to pillow forts and finger paints. The quiet scrape of brushes and the soft rustle of our movements fill the room, a soothing backdrop to our task.
While we work, the conversation inevitably drifts to personal matters. Jack, to my chagrin, finally broaches the topic of Julian. "How's he doing? You two seem... close," he probes with a careful tone.
I keep my eyes on the wall, focusing on blending the colors. "You should ask him yourself," I reply, ducking the complexities of my own relationship with Julian in favor of Jack's.
Jack lets out a sigh, his brush pausing mid-stroke. “It's not that simple. We've hardly spoken since his marriage fell apart. He feels like a stranger now."
I glance at Jack, noting the creases of regret on his face. It's clear that the dissolution of their friendship still weighs heavily on him. This revelation makes me pause, my hand steadying against the wall. "He was different when he came back from the Marines," Jack continues, his voice lower. "Something about that time changed him, made him more closed off. It's like the Julian I knew never came back."
The missing pieces of the puzzle that is Julian slowly begin to take shape. His hesitance, his reluctance to commit, the shadows I've seen flit across his expression in unguarded moments—all hinted at deeper wounds that had never fully healed. I wish that Julian would tell me more. "He doesn't talk much about those days," I murmur, more to myself than to Jack. “Or at all, actually.”
"Yeah, I can imagine," Jack replies, his focus returning to the fresco. "Just... be careful, Nat. I know you, and I know him. Whatever is going on, just remember that he might still be carrying a lot from those days."
The warning is gentle but firm, borne out of years of caring for me. I nod, appreciating his concern, even as my mind reels from this new insight into Julian's past. "I will," I promise, though a part of me wonders how much one can ever truly guard their heart in matters as complicated as these.
We continue our work in relative silence, each lost in our own thoughts. The task of restoration provides a kind of meditation, the focus it requires allowing me to process.
Finally, the silence is broken by Jack's declaration that he's taking a break. "I need a coffee. You want one?"
"Please," I reply, grateful for the diversion. The intensity of our earlier conversation and the meticulous nature of our work have left me mentally drained. Well, that and my rendezvous with Julian this morning.
As Jack gathers his things, I hesitate, then voice the question that's been lingering in my mind since our earlier conversation. "Jack, what did you mean earlier, about Julian's marriage? What happened between you two?"
