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“—when it turns out you just felt guilty for accepting blood money from my father. Right? Isn’t that why you kept running away every time we kissed?”
“Please,” he says. “Just read it.”
After a moment of reluctance, I force myself to look at the screen.
Mr. Bly, as generous as you’ve been, I don’t feel comfortable accepting any more rent payments from you. I consider Abbey a good friend, and I promise you I’ll watch out for her regardless. I’d also like to return the funds you’ve already transferred, though I do need some time to pay those back.
Dad’s response is typical. He tells him in no uncertain terms he won’t accept any money Jack tries to pay back.
“Abbey,” Jack pleads.
I lift my gaze from his phone.
“Doesn’t that count for something?”
A sharp laugh slips out. I toss the phone back. “You want me to congratulate you for finding your conscience?”
He rubs his forehead, visibly tired. Anguished. “No. I…” He trails off.
I drop down on the edge of my bed as I think back to the past five, nearly six months. I didn’t suspect for one second that Jack had been in contact with myfather.
It’s so humiliating.
No, it’s…
“It’s infantilizing,” I mumble. “Do you realize how shitty this makes me feel? I knew my father didn’t consider me an adult, but you… I thought you saw me as…” My throat tightens to the point of pain. “As a woman.” I make a strangled noise. “But I was just a little kid you had to babysit.”
“No,” he insists. “That’s not true at all.”
More pieces start falling into place. “It all makes sense now. This is why you were keeping a distance at the start. Why you’re still keeping a distance.”
“There’s no distance. I feel closer to you than nearly anyone else in my life,” Jack says in a soft voice.
I go on as if he hasn’t spoken. Because I don’t believe him. I don’t believe anything anymore.
“That’s why you haven’t asked me to stop seeing Nate. Why you haven’t brought up the what-are-we subject. It’s your way of keeping me at arm’s length.” I shake my head at my own foolishness. “I see that now. You told me you weren’t the commitment type, but I didn’t listen. That’s on me.”
“Please,” he says, scrambling. “Let me fix this, Abbs.”
“There’s no need. This arrangement, the one with my father and now the one with me, has run its course.”
“It hasn’t. I can fix it.”
He reaches for me, but I jump off the bed.
“I want to go to bed now, Jack. Just leave.”
“Please— ”
“No.” With a trembling hand, I hold open my bedroom door. “We’re done here.”
He’s reluctant to move, searching my expression for resolve.When he sees no room for further argument, he steps toward the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” he says roughly. “I never, ever meant to hurt you.”
The lump obstructing my throat makes it difficult to speak. “We were bound to end up here. Better now than later, right?”
At that, I shut the door and sink into my bed. A moment later, Hugh leaps on top of me and does a few laps before curling at my feet. Feeling utterly numb, I watch the branches outside my window shudder in the wind for a while, replaying the careening avalanche of a night that has just fallen on my head.
