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“Let’s discuss, then.”
I neared him, keeping the sofa in between us. It was something we often did, maneuvering so the furniture stood as a barrier—to stop us from ripping each other to shreds in a frenzy. It was more of a mental barrier than a physical one. Jack could leap over anything and be on me in less than a second. He’d done it many times before, but we remained standing now, sizing each other up.
“I apologize—” I began, but he cut me off with a strict tone.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
I cleared my throat, casting him a withering look. “I apologize for lying to you as well. I was being dishonest when I told you I hated you. I don’t. I could never hate you.”
He took a deep breath, a crack in his façade. “I love you, too.”
I rubbed a hand over my chest, dispersing the ache. His gaze followed my fingers, pupils dilating.
“Now I want you to answer me honestly,” I demanded, trudging ahead before his singular mind got us off track. “Why did you lie to me about cheating?”
“Because I wanted you to break up with me,” he answered. “Because it wasn’t—it isn’t—safe for you to be with me.”
“Try again, Jack.”
He tilted his head, examining me. “I’m being honest.”
“Be honest with yourself. Why did you lie to me about cheating?”
The look he gave me was icy, but I stood my ground. His jaw twitched, his irises hardening like chips of jade.
“You’re going to unravel me, Emma,” he threatened.
“Good,” I snapped. “Now tell me why.”
“Because I wanted you to run.”
“Why?”
“Because you leaving me is inevitable.” His chest rose and fell, a clear sign of the anxiety I was causing him. This was his trigger, and I knew it. He always thought I was going to run, to abandon him. “And I wanted to make you do it on my own terms. I thought it would hurt less.”
“Did it?”
“Fuck no!”
He mirrored me, putting his tattooed hand to his heart, gasping for air. This time, it was my turn to climb over the furniture. The moment I embraced him, he crumpled, and we fell to the floor in a heap. I held his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“Breathe, Jack,” I soothed. “Just breathe, baby.”
There was sheer panic in his eyes. I held him there, locked, until it began to recede. His breathing was still hitched, but not frantic.
“Fuck, Emma,” he cursed, leaning his forehead against mine. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could handle watching you leave, but it shattered me. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t function. I’m a shell and there’s nothing good inside me if I don’t have you.”
I pulled his head to my chest, his body melding into mine. With my back braced against the side of the sofa, I rocked him while he broke. I’d never seen him cry. Even when Connor had died, he’d shaken, but there had been no tears. He was releasing them now, grief wrapped in fear, tied with a bow of Frank’s abuse.
“When have I ever given you the impression that I would run?” I whispered, threading my fingers through his silky hair. It was longer than usual. He hadn’t had a cut in a while, but I liked it. More to hold on to.
“You ran when I told you I cheated.”
“Because you wanted me to,” I argued. “Because you identified and singled out my one insecurity and used it against me. I think you’re too good for me and you think I’m too good for you. We’re both convinced that one of us will leave the other. It’s a vicious cycle and we have to stop it now.”
“I don’t deserve you, Emma,” he insisted, pulling away. His tears had dried, and his face was back to its normal self-controlled mask.
“That!” I yelled, pointing my finger at his expression. “That is what I’m talking about. You shut me out every time I try to pry my way in. What do I have to do to convince you that I can handle your past? That I can handle your worst? You’ve killed thirteen people in the past month and I’m still here, aren’t I? I’ve moved in with you. Chain me to your bed if that’s what it takes. I don’t care!”
