by JM Stewart
He took a step back. Closing his eyes, the awful day rose all over again. Too well he recalled the confusion of coming home from a weekend trip to find an empty house. He’d figured out something was wrong when he realized the bedrooms were empty. Becca had taken her clothing, most of Allie’s toys. He’d had to call around her family to figure out where she’d gone.
The anger rose in his stomach, the pain slicing at his insides, cutting at him like a knife, a wound reopened. He opened his eyes and shook his head in misery. He was careful to keep his voice low, for Allie’s sake, but he couldn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth.
“Because I was hurt. I came back from that business trip to find an empty house. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? To have to track you down first? You want to know why I didn’t beg you to come back? Because you made it abundantly clear I had no damn idea how to make you happy.” He dragged his hands through his hair and spun, pacing the other direction, only to halt halfway across the kitchen. The pain rose over him, and he dropped his arms to his side. “I’d spent our marriage running myself into the ground, trying to be everything you needed, and I still wasn’t enough.”
Jackson stood, chest heaving. His entire body seemed to be shaking. He hadn’t meant to say any of that to her, but once out, he wasn’t sorry he’d said the words, because the pain gripped his chest and squeezed the air from his lungs. Her leaving had reminded him too much of his parents. He’d never been good enough for them, either, but to hear it from Becca had ripped his heart from his chest.
***
Becca halted in front of the kitchen sink, braced her hands on the counter for support, and clamped her eyes shut, struggling to breathe through the tide of emotion caving in on her. Frustration and anger, pain and betrayal, regret and need, all swirled like a dark mist, threatening to drown her. It mixed with the wonder of the dance they’d shared, with the joyful surprise of the gifts he’d given her. All of it collapsed on top of her. They’d been having a good day. For once, they weren’t arguing. Now they were back there again, to that place that made her want to sit down and cry. One step forward, two steps back.
Across the kitchen, Jackson stared at her, his usually bright, flirty blue eyes furrowed in accusation. She’d hurt him. The undeniable fact was a six-foot, blinking neon sign she couldn’t ignore. That was the first time ever he’d shown her more than an impassive facade. Seeing his misery so raw in his face threw her off guard. Made her chest feel like an elephant had taken a seat on top of her. She longed to go to him, to bridge the chasm spanning between them. She hadn’t expected emotion, hadn’t realized he’d cared at all when she left.
Except she didn’t know if she could trust those eyes anymore. She couldn’t forget the years of loneliness, all the times he shut her out, when work became a bigger priority than their marriage. She couldn’t live like that anymore. She wanted more, wanted to set a better example for their daughter.
Becca shook her head, tears filling her eyes. Dejection weighed her down, like an anchor tied to her foot. “I couldn’t do it anymore. All I wanted was for you to tell me you loved me, that you needed me, and you couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And I couldn’t stay in a loveless marriage for the sake of Allie.”
Jackson approached her side, his body heat seeping into her skin. Becca fought the overwhelming urge to flee the room, curled her fingers around the counter’s edge behind her, and fought the desire to peer into his eyes. Give in to the need burning in her stomach and see what emotions played there.
She didn’t trust herself not to give in to him. Give in to his sweet words, the sorrow and the regret in his gaze, and melt into him. She didn’t want to doubt herself, didn’t want to face the possibilities screaming at her. That the man standing beside her wasn’t the same callous, selfish person she’d left. For the first time since she met him six and a half years ago, Jackson Kade was vulnerable and unsure of himself, and filled with a pain she’d put there. That he regretted their divorce every bit as much as she did was clear as day.
All of which did nothing but bring up a million questions she didn’t know how to answer. Had she been wrong all this time? Was their relationship in shambles because she’d assumed all the wrong things?
The pain filling his eyes squeezed the air from her lungs, but a heartbeat later, he cupped her chin in his palm, brows drawn together. His intense gaze bored holes in every last one of her defenses. “Our marriage was not loveless. Not by a long shot.”
Of course, he hadn’t said he loved her, and the realization hurt so much her chest wanted to rip wide open. Once again, he’d skirted around the words she desperately needed to hear. Three simple, stupid little words she ached to hear from him, if only so she’d know she wasn’t crazy for wanting them.
She jerked her chin from his grasp and turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around her middle in a vain attempt to stem her trembling.
“Really? Then how come not once during our entire marriage did you ever tell me you loved me? Not once did those words ever leave your mouth. Not when you dropped to your knees and asked me to marry you. Not once when we made love. I’d convinced myself over the years that it was a stupid thing to want. It was trivial, really. Until our last anniversary came and you had to go off on some stupid business trip you absolutely couldn’t reschedule. Again.” Desperate not to let him see the pain gripping her by the throat, desperate not to feel it or to let the emotion sink her to her knees, she turned to peer out over the yard beyond the kitchen window. “That was the exact weekend I decided I couldn’t take the silence anymore. The loneliness was too much.”
“I know all about loneliness, Beck.” His body heat filled her back again, his fingers grazing her shoulders, like he tested the waters before he touched her. “My entire childhood was one long endless streak of it.”
Her throat tightening, she shook her head, forcing herself to step away from him, to put some distance between them. Before she leaned back into him, let his arms close around her.
Once out, the words kept coming, leaving her mouth on a need to say them. “So many evenings I sat right there at the kitchen table, wondering when you were coming home. Hoping you’d be home by dinner but knowing full well I had a better chance of winning the lottery. All those nights I lay in the darkness, staring at the bedroom doorway, wondering if you’d actually come to bed on time. I know how hard it is to start a business, what it takes to make it a success, but you . . . took it to extremes. I just wanted you to stop shutting me out.”
She stopped beside the center island and, for a moment, stared down at the pan of brownies on the counter. She’d made them from scratch instead of the boxed mix she normally used. Sadly, she’d made them for him, because he loved them. He’d held her, let her cry, and she’d let his kindness get to her.
“If you want the truth, I left hoping to shake you up, hoping you’d finally take me seriously.” She drew in a deep, fortifying breath and lowered her voice. “I hoped you’d come after me. Beg me to come home. But a month passed and not once did you ever tell me you missed me, and I had to face the cold, hard truth. So, I filed for divorce because it was clearly what you wanted.”
Jackson went eerily silent behind her, and Becca turned to him. He hadn’t moved. He stood beside the sink as still as stone, brows drawn together in concentration. His eyes glazed over, shifting, flitting about the kitchen at large, as if he’d drawn into himself and searched his thoughts.
He turned his head as if in slow motion, and his gaze settled on her. The confusion and sorrow etched in his eyes stole the breath from her lungs. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond. In the snap of a finger, his expression went blank. His jaw set, he pivoted away from her and stalked from the room. “You’re right. I’m a thoughtless, insensitive jerk, and you’re likely better off without me.”
He disappeared around the corner, his quick, heavy footsteps echoing down
the hallway like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The pain finally came, like a steel belt tightening around her chest, making breathing impossible.
There he was, the Jackson Kade she remembered, the one who left her so lonely the sensation had been a permanent ache inside of her. The man she left when she hadn’t been able to stand his distance anymore. She swore she’d gotten over that, yet there she was, reliving those days all over again. Except somehow, this time felt worse. Much worse. For a few, brief moments, she’d gotten a glimpse of what life might have been like had he been the man she thought she married.
Chapter Five
Heart in her throat, Becca stepped out onto the back deck, easing the door shut behind her. Some twenty feet across from her, Jackson stood at the railing, elbows resting on the dark wood, wearing only his pajama bottoms and his slippers. It was two in the morning, and it was a clear night, the moon shining bright in an unusually cloudless sky, which meant it was also bitter cold. He had to be freezing, but he was as still and silent as the neighborhood around them. Like he didn’t feel the cold at all.
She’d been tossing and turning for hours now, rehashing the entire day, when the telltale creak of the back door opening drifted down the hallway. Knowing Jackson used to come out here a lot to think, she’d gotten up and followed. Their argument earlier had gotten to her, and she’d made a tough decision while lying in bed tonight.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Jackson’s back stiffened, but he didn’t look at her.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Despite the quiet calm in his voice, as she came up behind him, tension radiated off of him. His keen awareness of her prickled in the air between them.
“You didn’t,” she said, approaching the railing. “I couldn’t sleep.”
When she stopped at his side, he finally glanced over at her. “Me neither.”
She didn’t need to ask why. The reason, the words neither one of them needed to say, hung in the air, as thick and heavy as the tension. Dinner hours earlier had been awkward and silent. The only time in her life she could remember thanking God their daughter seemed to live in her own little world and had the gift of gab, like her father. Allie had babbled about her day, about Fred, while tension had blossomed between her and Jackson like a living, breathing entity. He’d sat stiffly, shoveling in bites of food. He’d eaten but hadn’t appeared to taste anything.
He shut her out again, and she hated it. His subtle cocky arrogance she could handle. The way he touched her, in his innocent yet deliberate way, like he couldn’t help himself, she could handle. Even one of his wicked observations would be better. Those always made her blush and left her caught between the need to laugh and scream, but they were yards better than the silence. The silence reminded her too much of the last few months before she left. When they’d moved beyond arguing to simply ignoring each other. Back then, ignoring each other had become the lesser of two evils. It was far better than the constant anger.
She couldn’t deny him one thing right then, though. He was right. The way she left him was selfish at best. She was so hurt back then she hadn’t bothered to stop and think about her actions. She’d simply run.
“We need to talk, Jack.” She slid her hands onto the railing, using its solidity for support. The cool wind blew past her bare ankles, at odds with the warmth of his body beside her. The sensation made her remember the solid press of his lean, muscular frame against her as they danced, his hands on her body, gentle and steady. With the sensations came the yearning to be there again, to lean into him. It used to be so simple between them once. She’d go to him and he’d wrap his arms around her, and she’d allow the intimacy to make her believe he loved her, needed her.
She’d lain in bed for hours now, going over every word they’d said to each other earlier. They’d rehashed the same old argument and had arrived at the same place. Her heart ached all over again.
“Mmm.” Jackson turned back to the yard. “You look cold. You should go back in the house.”
“So do you. Your arms are covered in goose bumps.” His comment had doubt twisting through her stomach. She gripped the rail tighter in her hands. “Is that a hint? Would you rather I go back inside?”
She shouldn’t have asked him that. Barely a week she’d been in this house with him and already she’d softened, moving back to where she’d been before she left. The insecure place where she questioned everything she did, becoming someone she didn’t like, all in the desperate name of trying to win his love.
He sighed. “No. Just worried about you getting sick is all.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. It was one thing to know she ought to leave. It was another entirely to know she wasn’t welcome. The sad part was, she wasn’t sure which one she currently was. Did he even want her here? “I’ve been thinking. This isn’t working out. Maybe I should take Kyle up on his offer and go stay with him and Ceci.”
“I’d like you to stay.” His tone held a quiet honesty. “Not that I have the right to ask you to.”
Well, that answered that question, but only brought more. She bit her bottom lip in indecision but finally decided she needed to know. “Why do you even want me here?”
It wasn’t until that moment, as the words left her mouth, that she realized this was the reason she’d followed him out here. She needed to know, to settle things once and for all. Their conversation had opened the floodgates, left her drowning in the truth. She wasn’t moving forward with her life. She merely went through the motions. Rather, she was stuck in limbo, haunted by all the unanswered questions he’d left her with. Questions only he held the answers to. Like why he hadn’t come after her. Why, if he missed her as much as he’d said, he’d even signed those damn divorce papers. Or why he’d married her in the first place.
He remained silent, apparently lost in thought. Would he even answer? Or would he simply disregard her question? Skirt around the issue, the way he always did. Maybe he’d just shut her out and not answer at all. Finally, he drew a deep breath and blew it out. The tension in his body eased a bit, but he didn’t look over at her or relax entirely.
“The desire not to be like my parents has driven everything I’ve ever done in my life. They’re unemotional, selfish creatures. It’s why I don’t talk about them, why I don’t share the details of my childhood. It’s painful and, frankly, embarrassing. I don’t want to see the looks on people’s faces when I have to tell them I was just another possession to my parents. That I don’t have good memories to share. I was little more than another new car or a new house. Something to be owned.” His voice lowered, filling with an air of hurt. “I wasn’t sure I could stand to see pity in your eyes.”
“I wouldn’t have pitied you, Jack. Nobody’s perfect. I just wanted you to talk to me.”
“Mmm. I’m afraid talking doesn’t come easily. I was taught otherwise. When I left for college, I swore to myself I’d never become like them, but you? You scared the living hell out of me. I don’t know how to do this, Beck. What if I couldn’t be what you and Allie needed? What if one day you woke up and realized you were shackled to me? I wasn’t enough for my parents. I was never shown or even told I was important to them. I don’t know how to express emotion, because it was never shown to me.”
Becca stared at his profile, unable to hide her surprise. “You mother never told you she loved you?”
He let out a huff of a laugh, sardonic and bitter. “Oh, she told me. She just never meant it. I was never hugged or kissed. Affection was strictly forbidden, especially in public. So when we married, I reverted to what I knew. Work. I worked my ass off trying to give you and Allie the world and everything in it. Because it’s what I thought y’all deserved.” He shook his head. “It may not be perfect, but it was all I knew.”
He finally glanced over at her, stared at her for a long, aching moment, his eyes reaching, as if searching for something intangible in hers. Then
he turned back to the yard.
“I hate saying this to you, because it means I’m going to hurt you again, but I don’t know if I can give you the answer you want. I don’t know if I can say the words you need to hear.”
Pain twisted in her chest. There was the explanation she’d waited for. She needed to hear those words and he couldn’t say them. Which did nothing but make her wonder if he really felt them. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them.
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She shoved away from the railing, pivoted and strode for the door. She needed to be anywhere but in his presence. Before the tears fell. Before he used her weakness against her again.
“I can’t say them because they hold no meaning for me. Do you know how many times someone has said those words to me but not meant them?”
His voice called to her through the darkness. She stopped halfway across the deck and turned. He hadn’t moved. He still stood stiff, staring out over the yard.
“In my world, words like those aren’t spoken from the heart for the need to say them. My mother uses them when trying to persuade me to do something she knows I don’t want to do. My father never says those words. No woman but you has ever uttered those words to me and meant them.”
He paused and turned to face her. Despite the darkness and the distance between them, the intensity of his imploring gaze captivated her, made her stay in spite of the little voice in her head warning otherwise.
The pain in his voice, subdued as if he’d tried, but failed, to hide it, got to her. Something inside said she’d find the same emotion in his eyes as well. God help her, the thought touched her, made her wonder and hope. Maybe, just maybe, she was wrong after all. Maybe he hadn’t married her out of obligation.
