“I didn’t want to believe it at first. There was no way I could’ve been duped that badly again, could I? Sure, you may have acted oddly at times, but I knew our relationship wasn’t fake. And then when you admitted it and explained what happened, I decided to believe you. I wanted to believe you.” He swallows and breaks my gaze, looking back at Ash as he barks at a squirrel. “And then we woke up to that story.”
I feel sick. “Jack, I swear on my life—on my grandmother’s life—I had nothing to do with that story.”
“But how could I have known that? All I knew was you’d admitted to lying—about a lot of things—just hours before. It all felt like too much of a coincidence. In that moment, the only scenario that made any sense to me was that you were behind it, or involved somehow at the very least. I worried that my feelings for you were clouding my judgment, making it impossible for me to see you clearly. And I couldn’t ignore my gut a second time.” He lets out a tortured breath. “So I left.”
“I wish you would’ve told me all this. I would’ve . . . well, actually, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” I admit after a pause. Even I can concede the evidence looked damning; I’m not sure how I could’ve proven my innocence.
“Afterward, I couldn’t stop picking apart our conversations, obsessing over every detail, looking for any clues I’d missed. I drove myself crazy wondering what was the truth and what was a lie. The big things, of course, but also stupid little things, like do you really hate yellow Skittles as much as I do, or were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?”
“Lemon candy should not exist,” I say forcefully.
“My thoughts got pretty dark there for a while,” he continues, and I want to clap my hand over his mouth so I don’t have to hear any more. I hate knowing how unhappy he’s been, even if I’ve been right there with him. “I worried there was more coming, that you might use the things I’d told you about my family against me. I wondered if you were working with other people, or if my dad had put you up to it. I even wondered if you slept with me that night to distract me.”
“Jack.” My heart splinters at the haunted look in his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t really believe that of me.”
“I didn’t say my thoughts were rational. I’m just telling you what was going through my mind.”
Listening to him detail how royally I’ve messed with his head is messing with my head. I feel like I’m seeing him through new eyes, understanding him in a way I previously couldn’t. It’s incredible, really, the deep wounds and insecurities that can be hidden behind a confident exterior.
“If this is what you thought of me, then why are you here now?” I finally ask, unsure what else to say.
“The short answer? I came to my senses.”
I snort a laugh and he flashes me a wry smile.
“But seriously, once the shock of everything wore off and I’d had a chance to settle down, I realized how insane I sounded. No matter what the circumstances were, I knew you weren’t capable of the things I was trying to blame you for. I knew you weren’t the person I was making you out to be. Of course you weren’t. It seems so obvious to me now, that I was letting my past ruin my future.” He shakes his head. “I knew I needed to fix things, but I wanted to close the book on Brawler first. Let’s face it, this job has been an issue between us since day one. I figured if I could just see the deal through, then maybe we could move forward with a clean slate.”
“I guess that explains the radio silence.” Not that it excuses his disappearing act, but I suppose his rationale does make a certain kind of sense.
“The day I signed the deal?” he says, and I nod, urging him on. “It should’ve been the best day of my life. I’d finally reached the finish line I’d been running toward for so many years. Everything I’d worked for was coming true.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I was fucking miserable. People kept congratulating me, and it made me want to scream. It all just felt so pointless. At one point Tom asked what I wanted to do to celebrate, and my only thought was that I just wanted to hear your voice.” He meets my gaze. “I hated that you weren’t there. And I hated myself even more because I only had myself to blame for it.”
The corner of his mouth hitches up. “So I came up with a foolproof plan to get you back: I’d apologize for disappearing, then follow you around until you agreed to give me another chance. Imagine my surprise when I went over to your apartment and found out you’d ghosted me first!” He’s indignant.
I cough a laugh, grateful for the break in tension. “Now that is a lie.”
“Is it? Let’s consider the evidence.” There’s a gleam in his eye as he holds up one finger. “You moved and didn’t tell me.”
“Had you been speaking to me, you would have known I moved,” I say dryly.
He holds up a second finger, undeterred. “I went to the Siren offices to find you, which, incidentally, posed quite a risk to my personal safety. That place is full of women who despise me.”
I suck in a breath. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I was told you no longer worked there and was escorted off the premises by Cynthia herself.”
I cover my mouth. “You’re lying.”
His lips twitch. “Fine, that part was a lie. But they were not happy to see me,” he says when I reach across the chair to shove him in the shoulder. “Things got a little dicey. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a restraining order out against me.” He’s kidding.
“I quit Siren.”
His eyebrow spikes.
“Honestly, it was time. This whole thing just gave me the push I needed.” I watch Asher lift his leg and take a nice long pee on Gran’s rosebushes. “The good news is, I’ve been writing like crazy. I took your advice and finally got off the sidelines,” I say pointedly. I can’t resist the dig.
He looks properly remorseful, hanging his head. “I never should have said what I did.”
“It was less what you said and more how you said it that was the problem.” The word coward flickers in my brain but I banish it, this time for good. You’re not a coward. You’re a fearless balloon-popper.
“I was an asshole lashing out any way I could think of. I’m so ashamed of the way I behaved. An apology isn’t nearly enough.”
No argument there. “Well, sometimes the truth hurts. And despite your god-awful delivery, I suppose some tough love wasn’t the worst thing for me,” I acknowledge grudgingly. “I can’t argue with the results, at any rate.”
“You’re being far too understanding.” He shakes his head, refusing my compassion. “There’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you. I want you to depend on me, not wonder if I’ll disappear whenever the going gets rough. The way I behaved . . . it’s not who I am. I hope you’ll give me another chance to prove that.”
My heart squeezes at the vulnerability in his voice, and any lingering vindictiveness I may have been hanging on to evaporates in a puff of smoke. “How about next time, we commit to actually talking things through instead of letting six weeks go by? Just an idea.”