It was downright embarrassing, especially at my age. I was creeping up on forty, an adult woman who had had plenty of relationships, so why did he made me feel like this was all new again?
Because you can’t have him.
“They matter to me,” I whispered.
“Why?”
“Because you matter to me.” Admitting that made my heart race, as if I had just run a mile.
He didn’t react. There was no softening of his expression, nothing to give away how he felt. Why was it so hard to read him? He seemed to know everything I thought, could figure me out so easily, but he was as mysterious to me now as when he’d shown up next to my car that first night, telling me he had a patient who needed my help.
He released my hand and stepped away. A chill settled between us, the distance as clear a ‘no’ as possible. Though, when he opened his mouth, he seemed to want to make it even clearer. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“You paid me for that, so you don’t have to thank me,” I reminded him.
“And you fought me about that until I started to simply wire the money into your account.” A trace of annoyance in his tone made me want to smile. He was used to getting his way, but I had no issue arguing with him. “But what I was trying to say was that I acknowledge everything you’ve done. You took care of my daughter, something that no amount of money could possibly repay. However…”
And my heart crumbled with that one little word. It was like the word ‘but.’ It meant to ignore what had been said before that point. He normally turned me down vaguely, in a way that allowed me to save face.
That ‘however’ said he’d grown tired of having to repeat himself.
I braced myself for him to tell me he had no romantic interest in me, to tell me to let go of that idea because it would never happen.
“This is the last time I’ll contact you,” he said.
Thatwasn’t what I’d expected.
“What?” I all but shouted. “I’m sorry about mentioning the scars. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
He shook his head as he pulled on his shirt. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just think this association has run its course—for us both.” He buttoned his shirt, his motions slow and careful, his agile fingers moving almost mindlessly.
“But—” I said, then didn’t go on when I had no idea what else to say.
He reached out and cupped my cheek, the first time he’d touched me in such a familiar way. Why now? When he was leaving? It felt unfair and cruel. Still, he spoke, either oblivious to my pain or not caring about it. “This is for the best, trust me. The number you have in your phone for me will always work, so if you end up in trouble, if you need help, I expect you to reach out.” His thumb brushed my cheek in a soft stroke. “Do you understand me?”
I shook my head, feeling pathetic. “No.”
He lifted one of his dark eyebrows. “No?”
“If you won’t rely on me anymore, don’t expect me to ask you for anything.” I pulled away no matter how much it hurt. I wanted to stay there, to feel his palm against me, but I didn’t want to pour more poison down my throat.It was a consolation prize that would only hurt me more.
I gathered my things, needing to escape as fast as possible. I hated this, hated the goodbye, hated how useless I felt. No matter how much I cared about him, he didn’t feel the same. He’d never felt the same. He’d just been someone too kind to break it off before because I was a sob story, and he was nicer than he’d let on.My eyes stung, but I didn’t want him to see my tears, for him to witness just how pathetic I was.
“Sasha…” he said as I reached the door.
I turned back to face him, wanting him to tell me to wait, to take it all back.
However, he said nothing else.
So I shook my head and walked out, trying to hold my head high as I left the man I loved behind.
* * * *
I sighed as I walked another lap through the park. It was well after the time I should have been out alone, but I couldn’t quiet my mind.
Every time I tried to relax, I’d go right back to the room with Jarrod. A week had passed, but the ache in my chest wouldn’t stop.
And, true to his word, I hadn’t heard from him. Then again, Jarrod struck me as someone honest—at least, he always had been with me. He might be willing to not answer, but he never lied to me, he always followed through.