After We Fall(77)

 

It was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty-Nine

 

 

 

 

 

Margot

 

 

 

The ride back to the cottage was agony. I couldn’t believe the way he’d turned on me. My head was spinning!

 

It was just sex.

 

It was?

 

But he’d waited three years. He’d come after me. He’d asked me to stay. He’d confided in me. He’d shared deeply personal feelings. It wasn’t just sex! So what the hell was this sudden withdrawal? I racked my brain, trying to piece it together.

 

Had he just pretended to be a good guy? Was this asshole next to me the real Jack Valentini? Had the entire week been one big charade just to get in my pants? I found that hard to believe, but I was reeling. A couple hours ago, we’d been laughing and kissing and talking.

 

What had gone wrong? Were all men just manipulative bastards? I couldn’t accept that Jack was like Tripp.

 

Maybe having sex in the cabin had been too overwhelming. Maybe it felt like cheating for him. Maybe he felt guilty for enjoying it so much. Despite what he’d said, there had been something different about it tonight. Something intense and real and big. Something good. I’d felt it, and he must have, too.

 

I stole a glance at him and caught the usual stubborn body language and expression out of the corner of my eye. But there was something else…his right hand was nervously tapping on his thigh. I’d never seen that before. Something had him wound up. Something was making him nervous—scared, even.

 

That’s it.

 

It hit me all at once. His biggest fear—letting go of his past.

 

Maybe he started to let go. And it terrified him.

 

A little sadness tempered my anger. Why did he torture himself this way? Why wouldn’t he forgive himself and move on? Why wouldn’t he let me help? Why was he so fucking loyal to his pain? And after everything he’d told me, did he think I couldn’t see what he was doing?

 

I wanted to shake him. Hug him. Scream at him. Plead with him. Hurl accusations at him until he admitted the truth—he felt something for me.

 

But what good would it do? He’d never admit it. In fact, pushing him like that would only make him retreat further. It was hopeless. Until he made a conscious decision to move on, there was nothing I could do. And if the last few days hadn’t been enough to convince him, I had to face the fact that maybe it wasn’t going to happen. Blinking away fresh tears as he pulled up at the cottage, I had my hand on the door handle before the truck even stopped moving.

 

“Margot.”

 

I froze. Refused to look at him.

 

“I just…want you to know. I’ve…” He struggled for words. “I’ve had a good time with you.”

 

“Oh my God.” Now I glared at him. His words felt like a slap in the face. “Really? That’s what you have to say to me right now?”

 

He jerked his chin at me. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“I want you to admit the truth, Jack!” I yelled, cursing these damn tears that wouldn’t quit. When had I become so emotional? “You feel something for me, and you’re scared of it.”

 

“Don’t tell me what I feel,” he said angrily, fidgeting in his seat. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me.”

 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re choosing to be that way. Closed off. Miserable. Lonely.” I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist and softened my voice. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Jack. We could be good together if you’d let yourself move on.”

 

He started to say something, then stopped. His right hand clenched into a fist. “The night I asked you to stay, you said you didn’t need promises.”

 

“I didn’t! And I don’t—I’m not asking for a promise, Jack. I’m asking for a chance. That’s all. A chance.” My heart beat frantically in my chest as he weighed my words against his misguided convictions. His lips trembled and slammed shut. His forehead creased. His fingers curled and flexed. I could see the struggle in him, the temptation to give in to me versus the strength of his guilty conscience. Which would prevail? Our eyes met, and for a second, I thought he’d choose me.

 

But he didn’t. He looked away. “I’ve got no chance to give you.”

 

Devastated, I got out of the truck and ran into the cottage, choking back tears. When the door was closed behind me, I locked it and ran to the bedroom, throwing myself onto the bed. Gathering his pillow in my arms, I sobbed into it for what felt like hours.