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I lean closer, allowing just a moment to pass between us where I pretend through his eyes, I’m just me. Because no matter how hard I fight it, there’s always a voice echoing, ‘This man isn’t mine to love. He never was.’
Dropping my head, I whisper, “We can’t do this.”
It’s not what he needs.
Not tonight.
A small groan from his chest causes a lump to form in my throat. I need comfort I can’t have. I need his touch that isn’t mine. When he inhales, I exhale, and when he sighs in acceptance, my chest cracks wide open.
I give myself permission to press my lips on his cheek. Then my head falls between my shoulders before I stand. “Goodnight, Jake,” I whisper, refusing to look at him.
But as I try to walk away—before one foot can follow the other—I feel warm fingers interlock with mine, and I stop. Everything stops. My heart stops. My breathing stops. The pretending stops because his touch brings me back. It brings me out of my head, and I’m here with him. Slowly, I look over my shoulder, and his eyes lock with mine when he stands, towering over me as his chest heaves with harsh breaths.
He clears his throat, not once breaking our gaze.
“I got to her on time, Claire,” he says, his voice breaking, but he tries to hide it. His eyes avert to our joined hands, and I’m afraid to move when his thumb motions circles on the flesh of my palm.
Breathe, Claire.
Don’t forget to breathe.
I turn fully to face him, and heart be damned because I can’t help it when I press my fingers against his bare chest. I need to do something because the pain failing to stay hidden behind his whiskey-colored orbs is killing me. He sighs before taking another deep breath.
The air in the room is thick, and his grip on my hand tightens. When his mouth opens, my legs almost give up on me. He pulls me a little closer. Not much, but enough to feel his skin brush against the material of my t-shirt.
I’m unable to hold back the wobble in my voice when I say, “Jake, I’m not her. I’m not Jess.”
I expect him to walk away—to drop his hand and for me to mourn his presence, but he holds me closer until the front of my body is flush with his. His other hand comes up and brushes my hair from my shoulder. The simple touch sends shivers down my spine.
“No, baby, you’re you.” He pulls my lip away from the hold of my bite, keeping his eyes there as he speaks. “Claire, I’m fucking petrified that I won’t get to you.”
That’s it.
My heart shatters in ways I didn’t know it could.
It falls to pieces around me, and his words leave a gaping hole in my chest.
“And what do I do then?” he continues, ripping my heart from its cavity with every word. “If you get hurt?” He composes himself again, but the fire in his eyes never falters. The flicker of his flame dances over my face. “I won’t apologize for tonight. I’ll do anything to keep my son safe. To keep you safe.” He holds either side of my face, pulling me until his head is against mine. “I won’t lose you.”
His demanding mouth is on me, and I moan into the feel of him.
He steps back with me still in his hold. “I won’t lose you, Claire.”
Another step.
“Do you hear me?”
Another soul-shattering press of his lips.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
I know when the thread snaps this time, it will never mend. It’s gone forever.
“Because you, baby, are everything.”
He pulls my t-shirt over my head.
Another step.
