by Reese Ryan
“Jamie, I’m...I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks redder than her natural hair color. A flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes. He squeezed them shut and leaned forward, elbow on the table, forehead resting in his palm. “When I said that you weren’t innocent, that you made me do it—” Jamie squirmed in her seat, her gaze settling on her hands, now folded in her lap, “—is that what he used to tell you, to make you believe it was your fault?”
She wanted to deny it. To say that it was all a horribly inappropriate practical joke. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, except for the silent tears that slid down her cheeks before she could catch them.
“Baby, I am so sorry.” He moved to her side of the table and pulled her into a hug, her face buried in his shoulder. “I would never purposely say anything to hurt you.”
“I know that.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, hoping the napkin wouldn’t leave pieces of white fuzz stuck to her mascara. “You couldn’t have known how I’d react, and if I hadn’t just told Jo about it the other day, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about what you said.”
“Is that what you and your mom fought about?”
Jamie nodded, the top of her head bobbing against his chin.
Miles let out a low whistle. “She didn’t have any clue how he’d hurt you?”
Jamie straightened in her seat, reluctantly separating herself from the comfort of his arms. “He’d ply her with liquor and pills until she passed out for the night. Then he’d sneak into my room. I never told her because I was embarrassed, because I thought maybe Leo was right—maybe it was my fault. Besides, I didn’t think she’d believe me and I was too afraid to find out. I wasn’t a little kid. I was twelve, old enough to know better. I should’ve stopped him. I should have done something, anything.”
“You were a little girl. He was a grown man. This wasn’t your fault.”
She nodded, teeth clenched so hard it felt like that iffy molar in the back might crack. Slowly she eased the tension in her jaw. “In my head I know that’s true, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”
“How often—I mean...” Miles inhaled, shifting uneasily. “How long did it go on?”
“A few months.” She couldn’t bear to tell him that Leo had sneaked into her room a couple of times a week for six months, before she just couldn’t take it anymore. “That’s why I had to leave. I told Mel I was gonna run away, made her promise not to tell anyone. The truth is, I was hoping she would. I was terrified. I had no idea where I was gonna go. Just figured anywhere was better than there.”
“Does Mel know?”
“I never told any of them about what happened. I was afraid anyone who knew would see me as this slutty little girl.”
“No one who loves you would feel that way.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“It was so long ago. If I tell them now, they’ll be hurt because I didn’t trust them. I mean, Mel’s my best friend. I know every guy she’s ever had a crush on, and I...” She lowered her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. “She’d be hurt and disappointed. They all would. If I’d said something then, they could have... I mean, now I’ll never know if—” She inhaled deeply, refusing to let any more tears fall. God, what was happening to her?
“So maybe they will be hurt, but they’ll get over it because they love you.”
For a moment she was grateful Miles had ignored the ugly truth that she couldn’t bring herself to admit. If she’d been brave enough, she could’ve stopped Leo from hurting other kids. Because guys like that never just did it once, especially not when they got away with it. She nodded stiffly, her eyes on the table. Her heartbeat finally slowed, and the churning in her stomach had subsided. She’d told someone, and the world hadn’t stopped. She was still breathing. And he was still...here.
“How’d your mother react when you told her what that bastard did to you?” He’d made a valiant effort to choke back his anger, but his words dripped with disdain for both the man who’d taken advantage of her and the woman who’d allowed it to happen.
Jamie’s stomach started to burn again. “I always thought she knew, that she didn’t care. How could she not see that he’d destroyed my life, changed me? She should’ve known something was wrong, but she was too fucked up to give a shit what happened to me. When I told her she was devastated. And you know the worst part?”
Miles squeezed her hand and shook his head.
Jamie sucked in a deep breath and leveled her eyes with his. “A part of me enjoyed seeing her like that, knowing that she was experiencing even a fraction of the pain I did. Does that make me a bitch?”
“It makes you human.”
“How was everything? You barely touched your food. Was everything okay?” The server approached them, gesturing toward Jamie’s plate.
“Everything is fine.” Miles voice was a little terse, but he forced a smile.
“Well, can I interest you in a piece of cake or pie? We have—”
“No,” they both said emphatically.
The server excused herself and left.
“I guess that’s why you shouldn’t have very private conversations in very public places.” Jamie picked up her spoon and ladled some of the lukewarm chowder into her mouth. It was delicious. Too bad she’d let it get cold.
Miles sat with his hands clenched underneath the table, uncharacteristically silent, shoulders still tense.
She finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “That’s why I’ve never told anyone this. It’s bad enough I have to deal with it. It isn’t fair for me to drag everyone else into it.”
“That isn’t true. I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk about it, but I’m glad you did.”
She bit her lip and studied his face, choosing her next words carefully. “Maybe it’s good that I did, so now you’ll understand why I’m telling you to walk away. No hard feelings. No guilt.” His eyes widened in protest, but she held her hand up before he could speak. “You’re an amazing guy, a really good guy. I know you feel some kind of obligation to me, but you didn’t sign up for this kind of drama. The other night was bad, and I can’t promise you that I—”
“Jamie, I...” Miles cut her off but then stopped himself. He released a long, slow breath. “I know your life hasn’t been perfect. Neither has mine. I don’t want perfect. I want...you.”
She shifted in her seat and sniffed, the corner of her mouth lifting involuntarily. Her heart beat a little faster, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, she didn’t have to.
“How’d you leave things with your mother?” Miles picked up his fork.
“I asked her to leave. And I know that makes me sound—”
“No judgment here.”
Jamie shut her eyes, remembering the pain and devastation on Jo’s face. “She was sitting there, bawling and telling me how sorry she was, and I couldn’t take it. So I asked her to leave.”
He nodded gravely. “Do you plan to see her again?”
“Why should I?” She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.
“Because it seems you need closure as much as she does.”
“I don’t need anything from her. So now we both know the truth, and where has it gotten us? We feel even shittier than we did before. It would’ve been better if we’d stayed in our little corners, blissfully ignorant, free to carry on with our miserable lives the way we always have.” Jamie dropped her spoon on the table and crossed her arms.
“You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re unbelievably talented, you’re incredibly sexy. You’re a myriad of things, but miserable isn’t one of them. I wish you could see how amazing you are. The way I did the minute I laid eyes on you.” He smiled.
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? ’Cause I kind of thought it was my ass you fell in love with when you first laid eyes on me?”
“Well, that, too, of course.” His eyes danced.
She covered her face with her hand and laugh
ed—genuinely laughed—for the first time since she’d seen Josephine. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”
“There is.” He tapped the table lightly with his finger then raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’ve got an incurable case of you. I meant what I said before. That wasn’t some ploy to keep you from breaking up with me.”
She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, hands trembling. How was she supposed to respond that that? She couldn’t say it back. Sure she liked him. A lot. But falling in love? She wasn’t even sure she knew what that meant. But if she didn’t say it back, he’d be hurt. Her heart raced and her head was throbbing. She needed some air. Now.
“I have to...pee.” She bolted from the table and headed down the hall, nearly bowling over a server coming out of the kitchen.
What’s wrong with you?
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to catch her breath. Miles Copeland was the best thing that ever happened to her that didn’t have the last name Gordon, and here she was ruining everything. If she couldn’t let go and fall for a man like Miles, would she ever be able to? Choosing not to give her heart to a man made her feel powerful; being incapable of doing so made her feel powerless. Destined to be alone.
She splashed cold water on her face and dried it with a scratchy, white paper towel. Maybe Jo was right. She should break things off with Miles, not for her sake, but for his. Hurting him was inevitable.
* * *
Miles watched Jamie as she returned to the table, her gait stilted and unnatural. He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d blown it by telling her how intense his feelings for her had become. Couldn’t he see how vulnerable she was right now? The last thing she needed was more drama.
She slid into her seat, the color nearly blanched from her face. “I’m sorry, I—”
He held a hand up. “It was too much, too fast. It just kind of came out. Let’s drop it for now, okay?”
Jamie tilted her head slightly as she surveyed him through narrow slits. “Did you mean what you said?”
He couldn’t stop the slight grin that lifted his cheeks. “Every word.”
“I’m sorry I can’t—”
Reaching for her hand, he cut her off. “Someone has to jump first, right?”
Staring deep into his eyes, the corners of her mouth curled into a hopeful smile. “I guess so.”
Miles let go of her hand and picked up his fork. Through the remainder of lunch he sported a smile that encompassed his entire face as he pretended he wasn’t disappointed that she didn’t feel the same way, and maybe she never would.
Chapter Sixteen
Jamie slept in late the next day, though it would be more accurate to say she spent a couple of extra hours tossing and turning in bed. Josephine’s devastated cries replayed in her head, alternating with the hurt look on Miles’s face when she couldn’t respond in kind.
Her stomach lurched, and her head ached. They’d made it through the remainder of lunch as if nothing had changed. But beneath the surface of their forced smiles and strained laughs, everything was different now.
Jamie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, harsh sunlight spilling through the thin curtains. One of her gifts was the ability to sleep through a nuclear event. But not this morning. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t go back to sleep without seeing their faces. Hurt. Disappointment. And she was the root of it all.
She sat up in bed, knees up, head resting on her forearms. Telling her secret had an unexpected effect. She felt a surprising lightness, like the two-ton weight she’d been carrying around was cut in half each time she’d revealed it. But it had the reverse effect on the person she’d told. It was as if that person now carried the portion of the crushing burden that she’d shed.
Still, she was glad that Jo finally knew the consequences of her negligence. She deserved to bear part of that burden. But with Miles it was like a screen had been removed and they could both see each other clearly now. A small part of her regretted divulging her deepest, ugliest secret to him.
She’d bared the darkest corner of her soul. How could he ever look at her the same way again? That was the reason she couldn’t bring herself to tell Mel and Ellie.
The Gordons were her world, the only people she could always count on. She couldn’t bear them viewing her through eyes filled with pity. But now, wouldn’t Miles do the same?
During lunch he’d masterfully switched gears by remaining pleasant, but not upbeat. He’d stayed at the café and talked way past the hour and a half he’d intended to take for lunch. Still, she could feel the shift in their relationship. A small crack, like the one in the windshield of her truck. Over time and through the ravaging heat and chilly winters, it would inevitably spread until it was too large to be ignored.
Dragging her palm across her forehead, she wished she could do it all again. This time she’d keep her mouth shut. Maybe she wasn’t in love with Miles. Still, they had something special. Something she didn’t want to lose.
* * *
Jamie stared at the phone in her hand for the third time that morning before putting it down again. She’d spent the morning cleaning her apartment, painting and not calling Mel. She wiped what felt like a smear of paint from her cheek. When she looked in the mirror, she’d only made it worse, adding another color to the mess. The right side of her face looked like the beginnings of a Jackson Pollock abstract painting. She forced a stream of air from her nose, frustrated with herself. She’d done the same sort of thing with Jo and Miles. Trying to fix one mess only created another.
Confiding in Miles had provided some solace, but the person she really wanted to talk to was Mel. Whenever she picked up the phone to call her, there was an overwhelming heaviness in her chest. She’d immediately put the phone down and dismissed the idea. But a few minutes later, she’d be holding the phone again.
What if telling Melanie the truth changed their relationship? They were already relegated to once-a-week chats. If things got weird between them, maybe they wouldn’t talk that often. After all, Mel and Mimi barely spoke anymore. Not because they were angry with each other. They’d simply grown apart. Maybe it was one of those things that just happened. Sometimes, though, she wondered if it wasn’t partly by design.
She loved Mel, but her best friend had definitely grown more distant with all of them over the years since her move to San Francisco. There were too many sad memories for Mel back home, and she’d opted to leave it—and all of them—behind for a fresh new start.
Jamie couldn’t blame Mel for ditching them. After Lou’s death, they’d all turned into a bunch of needy basket cases. Ellie was preoccupied with getting Melanie to settle down with someone other than her ex, Jaxson Payne. Mimi had driven them all insane with her over-the-top wedding plans and bridezilla drama. And Jamie had acted more juvenile and asinine than ever, doing things like being too high to remember where she’d parked her car or getting arrested for driving while under the influence.
No wonder Melanie had said to hell with all of them and decided she needed a life of her own—baggage-free. It turned out to be good for all of them, too. Mimi became more independent; Ellie got involved with the local Senior Center and led an active life. Even Jamie had grown up a bit. She’d ditched her slightly-more-than-recreational drug habit and had gotten her shit together, for the most part. That included getting her own roommate-free apartment and staying in one place for more than a year, finding a job she loved and finally getting serious about her art.
So maybe Mel leaving had been the best thing for all of them at the time. Still, they missed her. She missed her, and she needed her friend right now. Only she was terrified that telling Mel about her past might destroy what was left of their friendship.
Jamie picked up the phone and dialed Mel’s cell phone before she could talk herself out of it again. If she was busy at work, it would just go to—
“Hey, you.” Jamie could hear the smile in Mel’s voice when she answered the phon
e.
“Hey, yourself.” Jamie beamed. A little part of her already felt better, just hearing her friend’s voice. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m headed to see a client. She’s a pain in the ass, but if I can impress this one, it’ll look good for me.” Melanie said. “What’s up?”
Jamie shrugged, though she knew Mel couldn’t see her. “I’m working on a painting. Nothing special.”
“Says the woman who placed third in a prestigious juried competition,” Mel teased. There was a hint of irritation at the fact that Jamie hadn’t told her about it herself. “You’re an amazing artist and you’re going to be famous one day, mark my words.”
The ache in Jamie’s stomach relented and breathing came easier. Maybe Mel wasn’t around as much, but she was still her one-woman cheering section whenever she needed it. “Thanks, Mel. How’ve things been going for you?”
Melanie paused for a moment. “Good. Great, actually.”
“Work or personal?”
“Work definitely. I finally feel like I’m gaining some traction, you know? They’ve been assigning me bigger, more prestigious accounts. I’ve been killing myself to make these clients happy. You know how important this is to me.”
“I know,” Jamie said. After Lou’s death, Melanie’s single-minded career focus had been to follow in his footsteps. But Jamie doubted that starting her own head-hunting firm was truly her heart’s desire. Mel had majored in Art History as an undergrad and was a certified museum rat who’d dreamed of one day working at the Louvre. Fulfilling Lou’s dreams had become Melanie’s focus and nothing any of them said would sway her. “I’m glad things are working out for you, but we’d love to have you back home. We’re a complete mess without you, you know.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t completely true, but it was her job to stoke her friend’s confidence, too. She certainly couldn’t tell her they’d all grown up and that Ellie was practically blossoming in the time since she left.
“C’mon, you guys are doing fine. You don’t need me,” Mel said.
“What about your personal life? You and Mr. He’s-Not-My-Boyfriend still going out?”