The truth about his origins was so much worse. He’d run from it for so long that now there was no place left to hide.
He was the spawn of a monster.
The breath hitched in his throat. Kara would never be able to look at him the same if he told her. The thought ripped at his gut.
“Still, you were barely twenty years old,” she said, drawing him from his jagged thoughts. “How could he do such a thing? I understand why you left, but why didn’t you take me with you? Or at least talk to me so that we could make plans?”
With his head hung low, Jason turned away. “I couldn’t.”
“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”
“You won’t understand,” he shouted.
Frustration balled up in his gut over his cowardice to spit out the real reason he’d left, the reason he could no longer be with her. He was the son of a rapist—his mother’s rapist.
“I never knew you thought so little of me.” Pain reflected brightly in Kara’s eyes. “I thought...I thought back then that we could tell each other anything.”
His vision blurred. His throat started to close. He had to stomp down these tormenting emotions. He was a soldier. He was strong. He could get through this and be honest with her.
He lifted his head. His gaze met hers. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The thought of her being repulsed, or worse, being afraid, silenced him.
Besides, what did it matter now? They’d both been reminded that they weren’t good for each other. Nothing more needed to be said.
“I have to get some more wood,” he muttered, needing to be alone for a moment to collect his thoughts.
“Right now, in the middle of our talk?” Disbelief and frustration laced her voice.
“We’re going to need it tonight.” He walked to the wood pegs by the door to grab his coat.
“But you just got some—”
“Not enough.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the rumble of a snowplow signaled their
freedom. Jason didn’t waste any time calling the towing company for Kara’s car. Learning there was a considerable wait for service, he ushered her out the door. He needed to get her home. Now. He couldn’t let his thoughts become any more muddled.
The ride down the mountain, though still treacherous in some places, was a far cry from the night before. Kara leaned against the door, leaving as much space between them as possible. She stared straight ahead while an ominous silence filled the SUV.
“Turn right here. My dad said they’d be at my house, checking to make sure none of the water pipes froze during the night. I can’t wait to see my little girl.”
Excitement laced the last sentence. Love for her daughter had filled that part of her heart he’d broken so long ago. If only things had been different—if he’d been different—he’d have a place in her heart, too.
“You can drop me off here,” she said, at the foot of the long driveway.
“That’s okay. Since someone took the time to plow the drive, the SUV shouldn’t have any problems making it to the top of your hill.”
The little white house with deep blue shutters held his full attention. It was so small. Not that his log home was a mansion, but he’d swear her whole house could fit in his great room. How did she live in such tight quarters—with a toddler, no less? She’d constantly be stumbling over discarded toys.
“You own this?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s cozy, but it’s home.”
He took note of the pride glittering in her eyes over owning this gingerbread house. “It’s a real nice-looking place.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed the door handle. “I’m sorry for imposing last night.”