Getting Real - By Ainslie Paton Page 0,147

hands around his waist and his head dropped forward. “I’m sorry.” It was a whisper caught in her sob.

He put his hands on top of hers. She must’ve thought he was going to peel her off and fling her away. She braced, but he pressed his hands down, running them along her arms, grasping her elbows and dragging her closer to him so she was pressed against the length of his body. It was torture. It was heaven. It was hell.

“If I can’t have you, I can’t forgive you,” he said. And when he felt her shudder, he released her arms and turned to look at her. “We can’t do this, Rie.”

“What do you want?” She sobbed as he stepped away, curling in on herself, hugging her sadness.

“I’m like an idiot kid.” He pulled at his hair in frustration. “I want something that’s not real. I want what we’d started to build.”

She straightened up. “What if you could have that?”

He growled. “I can’t. It was a lie. It was just another performance to you.”

“No, that’s wrong. It was never about that with you. I loved you. I still do. It’s why I ran. It’s why I’m here.”

She lied—she had to be lying still. Jake kept his voice low, kept his eyes on her, trying to read the truth in her face. “You’ve changed. I can see you’re stronger now. It’s hard for me to imagine how you remade yourself. But I know you don’t need me anymore, if you ever did.”

Rielle’s chin lifted. Her face was wet, ravaged by tears. “You’re right. I don’t need you, but I want you. I choose you. I’m not whole without you.”

All the fight had leached out of him. All his anger deadened. “I told you, I don’t have anything for you.”

“You are everything that’s real to me.”

“Look at me. This is me. This is my real life.” Jake flung his arms open to take in the dowdy room, his second-hand furniture and the cracked tiles on the galley kitchen floor. “I have ants, unpaid bills, an empty fridge and blown bulbs. I have a job I hate and a family that depends on me and no fucking idea how to get my life back on track.” He dropped his arms, slapping them against his sides, making Rielle start at the sudden movement. “And I’m no one’s charity case.”

Rielle closed her eyes to concentrate, to shut out the distractions. Of all the difficulties she’d faced, of all the fears she’d conquered, the thought that Jake might simply never understand, never forgive her, and never allow her into his life again in even the smallest way, made her feel a cold clutching terror. She would never find another Jake. Never know the same force of strength and calm, the same sense of kindness and courage as she’d found in him. She did what she always did when she was frightened—she dug down deep and fought as hard as she could.

“A man I loved with all my twisted, sinister heart told me he’d help me. And when I didn’t trust him, he showed me again and again with his unconditional love he’d do right by me.”

Rielle opened her eyes and stepped forward. Jake was right there in front of her. He was real, not a memory. She could touch his beautiful body again. She spread her hand gently across his ribs and accepted his flinch as a reprimand.

“You told me and you showed me, you loved me totally, completely.” She thought he might step away again but he held her eyes. “And I did the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done in my adult life. I threw that love in your face and I ran and I did it because I thought I was doing right by you.”

“Rie, stop.” He shook his head. He was looking down at her hand rising and falling on his breath.

“I did it because I didn’t want to drag you down, didn’t think I could ever be real enough, true enough, good enough for you.”

“Stop.” He stepped away. She closed her hand to keep his warmth in her palm.

She wasn’t going to let him go without breaking herself first. “I love you. I don’t care where you live or what you do. I want to be with you. Please don’t run like I did, Jake.”

He sighed deeply, his eyes were red veined and swollen.

“If you run, I swear I will chase you down, stalk you like a groupie and I’ll

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