The Heart - Kate Stewart Page 0,87
drink and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
Without giving me a chance, he looked up at me with a sneer. “So let me guess...some guy did a number on you, promised the moon and stars but didn’t deliver, and you’re still holding out that he will.”
He looked at me with wary eyes, and though my chest ached to tell him the truth, I couldn’t get the words to pass my lips. Jack’s mind was made up, that much was evident, and when his expression turned dark and expectant, I felt myself go livid with his attitude as truth and explanation died on my tongue.
“Yeah, Jack, you nailed it. I’m jilted and bitter.” I crossed my arms over my chest for false protection.
“Hmph,” he said, staring at the label on his bottle, “thought so.”
“You’re piss drunk. Let me call you a cab.”
“No, baby, I’m pissed and drunk.”
I had to tell him.
“Jack, look at me.”
“I can’t. Looking at you hurts,” he said with a hoarse voice. “It always hurt. I just didn’t know if it would be a good hurt or bad hurt, until now.”
“I never meant to –”
“Well, you did!” Anger rolled off him as he finally faced me, gray eyes blazing. Remorse and deep sadness crossed his features as he struggled with his pain. “And I asked for it.”
The dire need to end his battle raced through me as I watched him. “Jack, what can I say?”
He tilted the bottle up and finished the last of it before turning it over and emptying a few drops on the grass. It was a spiteful move on his part. His eyes penetrated mine as the one word he spoke ripped a piece of me in half. “Nothing.”
Letting my emotions get the best of me, I took a step forward, tore the empty bottle from his hand, and threw it down hard, shattering it on the gravel between us.
“Real fucking mature, Jack. Your bottle is finished and so are we? Just leave,” I said as a tear rolled down my cheek.
I could feel the contempt rolling off him. “You know what I want.”
“I explained this to you. Look, some things have happened and I’m not capable right now. But it doesn’t mean—”
“Of what exactly? I’m not asking you for anything but to acknowledge me, us, this relationship. It’s not much, Rose. Just tell me...I can see you’re in love but with who? I mean, I don’t see anyone else here. Exactly who am I competing with? He sure as hell hasn’t been around the last three goddamn months!”
“Don’t do this, Jack.”
“You’ve never, not once, invited me into your home or your bed. Am I simply entertainment for you?”
“You know that’s not true.” I fisted my hands at my sides as he tore into me.
“I’ve played nice with you because I wanted to, because I wanted you, but just what in the hell are you playing at?”
“Nothing!”
“I just want to know what’s in your heart, Rose. Jesus, just fucking tell me!”
“PAIN! OKAY! PAIN and... fear! The worst pain you can imagine and fear that I will never, ever, get over it no matter how hard I mask it.” I looked down at the ground, afraid to meet his eyes. “And even with all these jagged pieces he left... you, you’re here, too.” I pounded my chest with my closed hand. “And you don’t fit, or you weren’t supposed to, but somehow you’re making all those pieces smoother and easier to carry around. I can’t love you both and be fair to either of you. I have no idea how to do it.”
A long silence followed as he studied me. I did my best to keep from looking at him, hurt coursing through my every limb.
“He’s dead,” Jack concluded as I snapped my head up to meet his gaze head on with a slow, small nod. Tears streamed down my face one by one, and I wiped them away quickly. Jack took a step back as shock covered features studied me.
“Jesus, Rose... I’m sorry.” He stayed where he was as he stood looking at me like they all did when they found out. I hated that look. I never wanted to see it on Jack’s face.
“When?”
“Almost three years ago.” Tears I didn’t bother to catch poured freely now that I’d confessed all. “He died a week before our wedding. This house—” I pointed behind me “—was supposed to be ours. We fell in love on this land, and it belonged to him.”