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Glancing around, I took a quick inventory of all the items in the shower. Everything from the soap to the conditioner was meant for a woman. That lavender shampoo I loved so much was actually my favorite. Just like the soap was.
I rinsed off quickly, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around me. Was this some elaborate plan? My one track mind was running on raw emotion as I marched out of the bathroom, bypassing the large open closet—I froze and looked in.
Shirts, sweaters, jeans and boots. All my size. All things I would pick out. He’d already bought them? No, no way was he doing this to me again.
I threw open the door that separated me from the master bedroom.
“You’re unbelievable,” I snapped.
He was already sitting in bed, as if sleep eluded him. Moonlight streamed in from the windows, making the gray walls look like a dancing rain cloud.
“Care to elaborate?” he said with sarcasm and stood. He was in black boxer briefs and all chiseled muscle and man. The way his abs flexed and his hips moved with every step toward me made my skin tighten and my mouth water. He was beautiful. Always had been. But with the soft white glow from the moon, his tanned skin held a sheen of silver. Like a god descending from a storm.
His dark eyes fixed on mine and I took a deep breath and forced composure…let my anger guide me. Oh, I’ll elaborate alright.
“How dare you set me up again,” I said, stepping further into his room.
“You mean, how dare I see to your needs?”
“This is still a game to you, isn’t it? You knew I’d cave. Knew you’d get me to stay here. And you lined your closet and your bathroom with stuff for me?”
“Yes. And this is no game. It never was a game. How can I make you understand that?”
“Look at the closet and tell me how I’m supposed to think differently.”
“You coming here, being with me, was a matter of time. Not some strategy.”
I shook my head. Fury setting in. “You always have a plan, don’t you?”
“No,” he snapped. “There are times I’m caught off guard and have no fucking clue what to do. And even when I gain some kind of control, my best laid plans are shot to hell.” He looked me dead in the eye. I was uncertain who was angrier. Because it was clear Jack was upset with me. Which only pissed me off more.
All the anger I’d saved up was coming to the
surface. The one thing I’d been dying to do since he left, since I found out about the arrangement, was confront him.
“You say you care? Say you think of my safety? That I’m yours?” My chest heaved against the knot of my towel. “You left me. You had a deal with Cal, and both—”
“I don’t want to talk about Cal,” he said, continuing his slow stalk toward me.
“Good!” I shot back. “I don’t either. I want to talk about you. How you think you can just tell me you care about me, tell me you believe me, then leave me. Now you’re back thinking you can come in a save the day? Protect me? I’m not the person I once was.”
“I know,” he said with truth in his voice.
“I was fine,” I said, warding off the brittle way the last word came out. “You came into my life. Now, I’m broken—no, not even broken. Broken would be a luxury I’d gladly take.” One rogue tear fell, but I batted it away quickly, keeping my anger instead of sadness. “I’m empty.”
He stopped. Both feet planted on the floor and I watched a deep, dark wave of emotion roll over his skin like lotion.
“I was so angry with you,” he said so quietly I barely heard him. His black eyes burned with the very feeling he was describing.
He was angry with me? I was just about to ask him “what the hell” when his stillness was broken and he took another step toward me. His shoulders moved slow and graceful, like an animal ready to pounce.
“I wanted to kill that bastard that hurt you, that kept hurting you.” His voice was jagged. “I hated that he’d stood in my office, right in front of me…” His fist clenched, but what was scarier was the single word he’d said that struck my chest hard.
Hate.
Jack hated that he’d conversed with Brock before knowing the kind of man he was. And I was the one who put Brock in front of him to begin with.
My chin started to quiver, but I folded my lips together to try to stop it. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Didn’t trust the anger I was clinging to because it was dissipating quickly and being replaced with more of that emptiness I was coming to recognize well.
