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So, he had to stop.
“Please don’t call me that,” I begged, my voice sounding strangled and raspy.
Jack jerked back at my request. His eyes searched my face, and it remained to be seen if he got any answers to the questions in his eyes.
But none of that mattered when he said what he said next.
“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” he started. “But before I leave, I have to make sure you know one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, desperately wanting him to reveal whatever it was so he could go, and I could move on.
He hesitated briefly, then said, “I don’t know what Tom did to you, but I’m not him.”
At Jack’s words, my whole body went solid.
His did not. He released my leg, gently placing my foot back on the floor, and stood.
Just as he started to move toward the door, I asked, “How do you know about Tom?”
Jack stopped, looked back at me, and answered, “You told me about him while I held you in my arms while you were sick and had a fever.”
My jaw fell open. I didn’t remember any of that. I mean, I remembered being held in his arms, but I did not remember telling him about Tom.
But it was clear I’d said something, because Jack knew about him. I cringed just thinking about what I might have revealed. And because I couldn’t just pretend that it was better to not know how much I’d exposed, I asked, “What did I tell you about him?”
“Just that he was a bad man and a big mistake.”
Well, at least in my feverish state, I’d been honest with him.
When I didn’t respond, still too shocked to even know what to say, Jack looked away and started moving toward the door again.
“Jack, wait,” I begged.
He stopped again as I scrambled to get to my feet. “What, Dakota? You want me gone, so I’m going.”
I had wanted him gone. Technically, I still didn’t want to try to pretend this could be anything special between us. But this felt so… unfinished.
“I don’t want you to be mad,” I mumbled, not sure why I cared if he was.
His brows shot up. “No?”
I shook my head.
Curiosity washed over him as he took two steps back in my direction. When he was just inches away from me, he asked, “How would you like me to feel right now? I finally, for the first time in years, put myself out there withyou. I did it because I thought there was something incredibly special aboutyou. Even now, when I think you’re making a huge mistake, I still know there’s something aboutyouthat made me want to try again. But not even half a day into it, you’re taking off and telling me you can’t do this. And when I come here because I’m worried about you, concerned that something happened to make you take off without a word, you start talking in circles and not making any sense. You’re asking me to leave. So, I’m giving you what you want, because that’s just the kind of guy I am, but don’t stand there and tell me how I should feel about it, especially when you’re trashing the best thing that’s happened to me in the last three years.”
I was the best thing that had happened to him in the last three years?
What did that mean?
No.
No. No. No.
I wasn’t going to go there. He’d effortlessly rope me back in if I asked that question and got an answer that was just right. That was probably all part of how he did it.
I had to focus on the good parts of Jack I did have and end this.
Because there were good parts. I was big enough to be able to admit that.
