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“I’ve been calling Mom, but she’s the only one,” he answers simply. “I also asked her not to tell you or Wes that I’ve been calling.”
I should interrogate him on why he hadn’t bothered to call me—to say something, anything, and explain why he just ran out on me like he did.
Neither of us says anything to the other, and the minutes ticking away on the clock just add to the tension. I should say something, but I’m not even sure where to start.
“I should probably get going,” he says as he pushes up from his seat.
Desperation washes over me, and I know this may be my one and only shot to get some answers from Jared about things that have long haunted me.
“Wait. Please don’t go.” I bite my bottom lip, nervous that he’ll turn and leave and I’ll never get my answers—answers I’ve waited so long for. “Stay. Talk to me. Don’t you think I at least deserve an explanation? I want to know why you pushed me away like you did. Why you wouldn’t let me help you.”
Pain flickers across his face, and I understand that going back to that time
in his life might be painful, but it’s something I need him to do. After all, he put me through hell. He owes me, and I don’t feel a bit guilty making him talk to me about why he left. It might be the piece of the puzzle I’ve been missing to help me move on.
After a tense moment, Jared nods and then sits back down in the chair. His posture is stiff, and I can tell that he’s prepared for my interrogation. “You’re right. I do owe you that. Where do you want to start?”
“Okay.” I blow out a slow breath between pursed lips. “Let’s start with the night you came to my house drunk.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “That was one of the worst days of my life. As you know, they yanked my scholarship that day, and I went into full-on panic mode when I found out that playing ball was no longer in the cards for me. It was like everything I ever worked for—my future that I thought was set in stone—was gone. You were there for me, but I thought you deserved so much better than me at that point, and I was angry with you for lowering your standards to stand beside me. I know it sounds silly, and believe me, once I was able to think rationally about the situation, I realized what a fucked-up mental case I was that day. It was like my brain couldn’t process any more.
“In Sunday school they always preached that God wouldn’t give us more than we can handle, but I’m not sure how true that is. That time in my life—so much was put on me that I think it broke my rational mind. The reasoning part of my brain got buried under the anxious side that only saw the worst possibility in all situations.”
I study his face, and I’m hearing what he’s saying, and I believe him. I can just look into his eyes and know he’s telling me the truth. It’s good that he’s finally able to admit how out of control he was.
“I guess what I’m saying is, the only thing left I had at that point was you. You were the one thing left in this world that could be taken from me—you and my family. I knew deep down at some point you would get tired of my shit if I could only work a minimum-wage job because I couldn’t afford to finish school, and I just couldn’t handle that. If I was going to lose you, I wanted it to be on my terms—that I would get rid of you first so I could avoid the blindside down the road.”
“Jared . . .” I say his name in a hushed whisper. “I would’ve never left you. I loved you.”
He stares up at me. “Something reminded me lately of how things can be taken without notice. One of my bandmates lost his mother, and it got me thinking. It’s the reason I came back here. Mom won’t be around forever, and I wanted to fix things between us before it was too late. I wanted to at least rectify my past with her, but you . . . I wasn’t ready to face you yet.”
“So you bringing the flowers . . . ?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “A simple mistake. Mom had those yellow roses set off to the side, and I grabbed them with the rest of the deliveries. I didn’t know they were for you. There was no name on the card, only an address, which I thought was odd. How were you even supposed to know who they were from?”
I swallow hard. It’s then that I wonder if Jared has a clue about Wes and me, because surely he would’ve said something about the flowers being from Wes, since he’s the only person who would be sending those to me. I suddenly feel like the traitorous girlfriend, but that’s ridiculous, considering I haven’t seen Jared in five years. It’s none of his business, really, but I should at least explain to him about the situation between Wes and me before he hears it from someone else. “I know who they’re from.”
He looks away from me and points his gaze down to the floor, but he doesn’t look angry, more disappointed and sad. “Oh?” Jared holds his hands out in front of him, balancing his elbows on his knees, and rubs his palms together. “Are you seeing someone?”
I lick my dry lips. “It’s complicated.”
This was a day I never wanted to see come. Telling him—explaining why I married his brother—is something I convinced myself that I would never have to do, considering he left without a word and seemed disinterested in the things I did.
“A scorned lover then?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
“The thing you have to understand about that is . . . well . . . it’s—”
“Complicated. I got that part, and I know I have no business prying into your life. I don’t have the right to do that anymore, but I can’t help but be curious.” There’s a hint of a tease in his voice, but I know he’s dying to know the answer to his questions.
I straighten my shoulders. “Let’s not talk about our love lives. I’m sure mine pales in comparison to the things you’ve done, Mr. Rock Star.”
I add the last little jab. It’s way too tense in this room, and I don’t think either of us is ready to unveil all our truths to one another at this point.
He smiles a bit. “You been keeping tabs on me?”
I hold up my index finger and thumb, then bring them close together, leaving only a smidgen of room between them. “Just a little. It’s hard not to when I see your band everywhere I turn lately. They were just talking about your band on that gossip show Celebrity Pop Buzz Nightly the other night. That reporter, Linda Bronson, is determined to track down the whereabouts of your lead singer. Has he really disappeared?”
He nods. “Yeah. Our tour manager, Jane Ann, can’t find him anywhere. She thinks he’s gone into hiding. He’s missing shows and costing Mopar Records a boatload of money. They’re pretty pissed at him but are determined to find him.”
