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Jason growls under his breath. “He was pressuring you?” His gaze lengthens over my head as he slowly exhales. I can see the way the muscles in his arms tighten and would be willing to wager that his hands are fisting under the table.
His reaction gives me pause to continue. Although his jobs had nothing to do with me, this has everything to do with him. “Back then, I didn’t understand how he was twisting things to make me his, but it makes so much sense to me now.”
“You used the word prize earlier. You were a prize to him. He used to tell me how lucky I was to have you, but he didn’t mean having a girlfriend. He meant you specifically.”
“He wasted no time, Jason. One moment, I only saw him when out with you, and the next, he was over every night offering a shoulder for me to cry on. That’s when the stories started about you and the other girls, although he’d already whispered a few before we broke up. He told me story after story about how much he had loved me for so many years, and how he was so disgusted that you, his best friend and my boyfriend, would cheat on me. That no woman of his would ever know such betrayal. That he would look after me because no man around here would look at me twice after being with you.”
“Delilah . . .” It’s as if his frustration and pain have collided, and he pushes up, letting the feet of the chair skid against the linoleum. With his hands pressed to the edge of the sink, he stares out the window. His anger feeds the shame I feel inside for falling for it. But then he turns around, and says, “You had no reason to doubt him.”
“I had you. That was reason enough.” I shake off my own pain. “No one came near me once I was with him, so I guess I proved his theory true. He was an enemy in disguise.” I’ve never spoken these words out loud and for good reason. “I feel like such a fool.”
“Trusting someone isn’t a flaw. You saw the good in him—”
“And the bad that wasn’t true in you. Why are you defending him?”
“Defending him? Is that what you think? I’m not fucking defending him. I’m defending you. You were told lies from a trusted ally.”
I didn’t have to believe him, but we’re going in circles. Jason gives me more credit than I’m due. Pushing my plate away, I look down at the years of scratches on the table. “He came home drunk one night. That wasn’t unusual. It must be hard to live in the lies of screwing over the people who once cared about you. Anyway, the guys had been teasing him that he got your sloppy seconds.” Just saying that phrase makes me feel cheap. “That’s what I was relegated to in this town. Not the girl who made good grades or who was a cheerleader. I wasn’t even a former beauty queen to them anymore. I was Jason Koster’s sloppy seconds.” I cringe when the words reach my ears again.
I dare to peek up at him. His breathing is deep, his arms crossed defensively, but worry is seen in the depths of those whiskey-colored eyes. Before he can say anything, I do. “We had a huge argument. That was the first time he ever slapped me. He’d been rough before but had never gone that far.”
“Hitting a woman doesn’t make him a man or more powerful. It makes him a coward.” His knuckles whiten from gripping the counter on either side of him. Our eyes meet, and I stand before him wishing I could change everything that tainted us back then. I can’t, so I’ll live, survive like I’ve been doing. “I’m here, and I’m okay.”
His silence is eerie as his gaze shifts from me to the table. He’s still, so still I almost back away, but I’m not afraid of him. I want to soothe that anger away. Just as I reach for him, he says, “Do you know how much it kills me that you were ever touched by him? In any way. I will never understand how he could hurt you like that.” It hurts to see him in so much pain, especially because of me.
I cover his hands and tilt my middle to rest against his legs, wanting this connection to give me strength. “You’re not to blame. I know you want to take fault because you weren’t here, but I don’t blame you. That sits squarely on my shoulders. I’m still so angry with myself that I got mixed up with him in the first place.”
“Because he twisted shit around to look like a hero. He took one fight between you and me, a fight that never should have happened, and worked it to his advantage. But if I would have fought harder for us—”
