Heartless.
“But your father died. Don’t you want some sort of connection to him, especially now that he’s gone?” I ask incredulously.
She rises to her feet so quickly, she knocks her chair into the woman sitting behind her, who turns and glares at the both of us. We ignore her, though. I’m too focused on a now very angry Jensen, her hands clinched at her sides, her eyes full of fire.
“Why are you making such a big deal about this?” she asks, her voice shrill. “I thought of all people and what you’ve gone through, you’d understand.”
Guilt swamps me, but I push it aside. “I’m trying to understand,” I say calmly.
Jensen stares at me for a long moment before grabbing her purse and heading straight out of the sandwich shop.
Guess that was the wrong thing to say.
“Jesus,” I mutter, annoyed that I can’t finish my lunch. Annoyed that everything seems to blow up into a dramatic argument between us.
I’ve been thinking all along that I want to help her, that I want to fix whatever’s wrong with her. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’s not worth the trouble.
It’s hard for me to believe I’m thinking like this. But I’m frustrated. And tired. So very tired of all the game-playing. My family doesn’t make it easy either. They’re just as bad—hell, they’re worse—than Jensen is. And it doesn’t help that I’m keeping secrets too. It’s fucking exhausting.
I find her standing just outside the restaurant, her arms wrapped around her middle, her face pale. She almost looks green, like she’s going to throw up at any second. “I don’t want to fight with you,” I start out, but she cuts me off.
“I’m sorry.” She chokes the words out before she throws herself at me, her arms wrapped tight around my neck as she clings to me. “I’m so, so sorry, Rhett. Please forget what I just said. Forget how I acted. I was wrong.”
I have no choice but to wrap my arms around her in return, holding her tight as she cries—actually cries—against my chest. I run my hand over her hair, down her back, trying to soothe her, curious as to why she’s reacting so strongly. There’s something she’s not telling me, and I don’t know what it is, but if I had to bet on it, I’d guess it has to do with her past.
I wish for once she’d open up and let whatever’s bothering her pour out.
“I know I’ve said this to you before, but you can tell me anything,” I say against her hair, tightening my hold on her when she shudders. “Whatever it is you’re holding on to, we can share the burden together.”
Damn, I sound corny, but I want her to know I mean it. I’ll help her with whatever’s bothering her. I wish I knew exactly what it was. Does it have to do with my uncle? I don’t know what to do about him either. That entire situation bothers me, and I hate the tiny bit of doubt that still lingers. I wish she would just come out and tell me, once and for all. I’d guess it would be a relief for all of us.
But she hides those secrets of hers tightly. Throws up that steel wall whenever I try to get too close. It’s frustrating.
The entire situation is frustrating the hell out of me.
“I want to tell you,” she whispers, so soft I almost can’t hear her. “But I’m scared if I do, you’ll hate me forever.”
“I would never hate you,” I say firmly when she lifts her head to study me.
“Don’t say that too quickly. After you hear what I have to say, your entire opinion of me will change. I can guarantee it.”
Her words are freaking me out. And I’m tired of her almost—teasing me like this, only to reveal something that isn’t a huge deal.
My phone rings from my jeans’ pocket, but I ignore it. “Let’s get out of here. We can talk when we get back to my place.”
I’m not going to let her keep dodging my questions. She’s going to come clean, and that means I’ll need to as well.
My phone rings again just as I’m about to climb into my car, and I pull it out of my pocket to check who it is. My heart trips over itself when I see the name flashing across my screen.
Uncle Craig.
His timing is impeccable.
Jensen is already in my car, so I decide to answer. “Hey, how are you?” I ask warily.
“I’m good. Wondering about you. Looks like you’ve been looking for me, what with all the texts and voicemails you left,” he says jovially.
“Yeah, you’re a hard guy to get a hold of.”