Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,28

another way at the time. And for that, I felt ashamed. I always have. Still do, to this day.”

I realized I was holding myself, arms crossed around my body. Each of my hands clutched the opposite shoulder. My chest rose and fell under the bands of my arms, each breath slow. Labored. Watching the cords of his neck tighten, seeing the wash of color drain from his now tightly clenched fists, I held myself even tighter. It seemed we were both somehow adrift, undone, fighting to hold ourselves together. Outside the door, the women’s laughter and murmurs from passersby were just audible. Somehow the rest of the world was carrying on as usual, while inside this tiny room time stood still.

“Did you really think I was dead?” His brows pulled together.

The question revived the same inexplicable grief I’d felt yesterday after turning to see him in my doorway. Of course, I hadn’t wanted him to have been dead. But I’d never found a trace of him after I sent back his ring, after finding him in that coffee shop, wrapped in a redhead, not even when searching online. The only alternative was a truth somehow just as heartbreaking: That it had been easy for him to walk out of my life without a backward glance, without any attempts at communication. That he’d had so little regard for me that it never occurred to him that he’d gutted me.

Even after knowing how much I’d loved him.

I looked away, fighting to suppress the emotion choking my airway.

Nope. No crying.

Why was this so hard, after all these years?

“I’m not mad that you left, Nick. I’m mad you never came back and didn’t have the decency to send as much as flare in my direction before you moved on.”

That was far more honest and vulnerable than I’d intended to be.

My ringtone sounded from the depths of my purse. Grateful for the interruption, I fished in my handbag, wondering who was psychic enough to grant this reprieve. Glancing up, I thought I might have glimpsed relief on Nick’s face.

I fished for the phone in my purse. “I just need to make sure it’s not an emergency.”

He nodded, signaling he’d wait.

So great was my agitation, I was hardly surprised when the phone jumped out of my nervous hands and clattered to the floor.

Nick’s height folded, his head brushing my shoulder as he bent to retrieve the phone. I jerked away from the accidental touch and backed into the table. His gaze slid over the display of my phone before he placed it in my outstretched hand. His expression soured.

“Jackson James.” He managed to make Jackson’s name sound like plague.

I turned the phone around. It was a text from Jackson, his delayed response to our previous conversation about meeting up that next evening. It was typical Jackson James: direct and heavy on innuendo.

I’ll pick up dinner from the Front Porch after my shift. You just bring that sugar to Daddy.

I barely suppressed an eye roll, noting Nick’s gaze was fastened to my face.

He didn’t appear to be breathing. “You call Jackson James ‘Daddy?’”

Thank you, Jackson, for saving me in this moment.

I managed to arch one brow. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.” I shoved my purse back up my arm. “Is there anything else you wanted to say?”

Nick looked away. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Jackson James. You call little, pimply Jackson James, ‘Daddy.’”

My spine stiffened. “I care about Jackson. You have no idea who he is now and what he means to our community.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

He took a step closer to me, lowering his voice. “Zora. You and I both grew up with Jackson James. You know—”

I knew the argument currently gathering force wasn’t really about Jackson. Not really. It was an opportunity for us both to vent and thrash about something else, something that didn’t pick at the scab of our past. Half of me wanted to pursue my line of questioning, wanted to drain Nick of the answers I’d craved for so many years. The other half wanted to avoid it, to walk away from him, forever. To escape before something ugly or cruel was unmasked.

“You, thinking you’re the only one who’s changed after all these years? It’s the absolute height of arrogance.”

His head snapped up. “What does that mean?”

A ragged breath escaped me. “It doesn’t matter, Nick. If you leave here with only one takeaway, let it be this: Be consistent. You left all those years ago without a single