It makes me all the more tempted to curl into his arms, especially when he reaches over and caresses the side of my face that isn’t bruised. This time when I flinch, he doesn’t pull back, but a knowing look cross
es his eyes.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” I ask, turning to look at everyone who is watching us like they’re waiting on something epic to happen.
Dad clears his throat while backing away, and everyone else filters out. Ruby shuts the door behind her, and I turn back to face Jax.
He slides in closer, slipping a hand onto my hip, but I grab that hand and push it away, ignoring the searing heat it leaves behind. He grimaces, but he doesn’t make a move to touch me again.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper softly.
Even in a whisper my voice sounds broken.
“Damn it, Bo. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m only human, and—”
“I know,” I interrupt, smiling sadly up at him. “We all make mistakes. I forgive you.”
Confusion mars his beautiful face, and my heart clenches in my chest.
“I don’t understand,” he says, looking every bit as tired as I feel.
“I forgive you, but I can’t be with you.”
He starts to speak, but I cut him off.
“Yeah, I finally snapped. I got sick of everyone forgetting I had feelings too. You aided in that, but I’m over it. The problem is, they’re my family. They can be selfish and immature and themselves around me, and they eventually will be again. The difference between them and you is that I don’t want to be that person with you… The person who rolls with the punches and just keeps giving.”
His face falls, and I fight really damn hard not to cry.
“I thought… I thought it could be different. I thought you would care about me the way I care about you. I thought… It doesn’t matter. I realize now I gave you too much power, and I can’t do that again, Jax. Unfortunately, with you, I can’t help but do it. And I can’t handle the idea of being crushed again when you forget who I am and remember the girl who came to you by a lie. We had a very messed-up beginning, but I can’t walk around knowing you hold it against me, secretly harboring resentment that you can use any time you feel like slicing me in two.”
He clears his throat while shaking his head. “I don’t, Bo. I was pissed that day and I think I kept waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. It was stupid, and I reacted irrationally. I don’t fucking care how we began, but I sure as hell care about the way we end. I don’t want it to end. Definitely not like this.”
Words and actions are two different things. My initial deception was his go-to punch when he needed a knockout. He can say he’s over it, but he’s just like me, saying something to placate someone else. The truth is lingering close enough to the surface to erupt at a moment’s notice.
If he loved me…
No. I’m not going to start that.
I can’t be broken again, because I’m not like Ruby. I don’t ever want to feel this miserable ever again, and all I want is for the pain to ease so I can move on with my life.
No wonder my mother never fell for another man. It hurts too much to have your heart broken. What masochist would ever go through this more than once?
“You should go,” I say when he doesn’t act like he plans to leave.
His entire body sags with defeat, and I see the crestfallen look in his eyes that almost has me immediately changing my mind. Instead of caving, I do something I’ll probably regret, because it almost seems cruel to do now.
Reaching over, I open the drawer to my nightstand, and I pull out the small keychain that arrived a few days too late. Hesitating for a second, I finally turn around and hand it to him.
He holds his hand out, and since I’m a baby who can’t endure his touch without longing for more, I drop it in his hand to avoid grazing him on accident.
“I can’t have this here since I bought it for you. It can go in one of your shoeboxes or in the trash, but I wanted you to have a memento from our Hawaiian trip, since I never saw you buy a keychain there. I realize it’s not a monumental point in your life, but you said you collected them in general. It’s actually from the town we were closest to, and I had it engraved. Jane mailed it to me.”
He studies the custom, silver-plated palm tree that has Paradise Found engraved across it. It seemed perfect at the time. I don’t mention that I actually had it cut out and made just for him. It might be too revealing.
“Thanks,” he says hoarsely, and my eyes water as he stands up and clutches the keychain in his hand.
“Maybe one day we can move forward and be friends,” I tell him, grimacing when I hear how ridiculous that sounds aloud.