by Linda Seed
But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been.
“What are you doing here?” Jake asked. “I mean, I’m glad to see you, but …”
Breanna grasped mentally for one of her three excuses, then decided it was pointless. Jake was going to see through her no matter what she said.
“Where is she?” she asked instead.
To his credit, Jake didn’t pretend not to know who she meant. “She went home. At least, I assume she did. We said goodbye at Ted’s.”
“Oh.” Breanna felt embarrassed, maybe even humiliated, and she drew herself up to her full height to combat the feeling. “Are you sleeping with her?”
“No. Come inside so we can talk about it.” He started past her with Sam, headed for the front door.
“There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Stop it. Just come inside.” Jake unlocked the door, snapped off Sam’s leash, and went inside, looking back at Breanna to see if she was going to follow.
At first she just stood there, not knowing what to do. If they went inside to talk, it was likely going to end with Jake breaking up with her, explaining that he was with Kye now. They’d still be friends, maintain their professional relationship, blah blah blah.
She didn’t want to be friends, and if he really was with Kye now, she didn’t know if she could bear to hear it.
Still, she’d come here to find out what was going on. The only way to do that was to follow him inside.
* * *
Jake had expected that his little show with Kye would yield some kind of result with Breanna. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. Liam must have shattered the speed limit rushing home to tell her what he’d seen.
She looked so hurt, so sad. He felt like an ass for playing her.
Great job, genius.
At first he thought she wasn’t going to come in the house, but then she did. She crossed the threshold hesitantly, but he could see her straightening, arranging her features, trying to be brave.
God, he was an asshole.
He got Sam settled in the bedroom with a chew toy so he wouldn’t try to crush Breanna by climbing into her lap. Then he sat down on the sofa and gestured for her to sit beside him. She perched on the edge of the cushion on the far side of the sofa, putting as much space between them as she could.
“So. You’re dating Kye Ferris.” Her back was straight, but her voice was a little wobbly.
“Dated—one time. That’s all.”
“I see.” Breanna folded her hands in her lap primly. “It’s none of my business, of course. We’re not exclusive. You’re free to see whomever you like. I just thought that if you were having a … a sexual relationship with someone else, I have a right to know. And now I do. So.” She grabbed her purse and stood up.
“Breanna, sit down. Stop acting like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re consulting with your doctor about a bad diagnosis. This is me. Sit down and let me talk to you.” He reached out and caught her hand in his. She pulled it away, but she did sit down. At least that was something.
He took a deep breath and opted for the truth.
“Look. I went out with Kye because I was mad. I wanted to hurt you, but now you’re hurt and I feel like shit about it. So, I’m sorry. There’s nothing going on with her. Just the one date. We met at Ted’s, we said goodnight at Ted’s. No sex—no kissing, even. Just a couple of games of darts and a beer or two. And me putting on an act so Liam would tell you about it.”
Breanna looked stricken, her eyes wide. “You did it to hurt me?”
“Well … to make you jealous. But, yeah. And that makes me an asshole. But the Kye thing—it was nothing. It was theater. I’ve already apologized to her for that, by the way.”
After Liam had left Ted’s, Jake had confessed his real motivations to Kye, who should have been pissed off but who had, instead, called him sweet and kissed him on the cheek. Her reaction had made him feel not only pathetic but old as well.
Now, he waited to see what Breanna would do. If she walked out, he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d probably have done the same.
“Jealous? But why?” She looked genuinely baffled, as though the words he’d said didn’t make any objective sense.
He rubbed his face with his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.
He needed to make her understand.
“You wanted to take things slow. I get that. I do. But … we’re not sleeping together. We don’t have any kind of commitment. You don’t want to include your kids, or to even let them know we’re seeing each other. We’ve been together awhile now …”
“Not so long,” she protested. “Just a few months …”
“Yeah. A few months.” He ran his hand through his hair. “But it seems like forever when I knew the first day …”
“You knew what the first day?” she whispered, her face pale.
In for a penny, Jake thought.
“I knew I wanted you. I knew I wanted to be with you. I knew you were the one. I won’t say I knew I was in love with you—not that soon—but … I know it now. I love you, Breanna. And every day, every time we see each other, you just push me away. You want me around, sure, but at a distance. At arm’s length. I don’t want to hold back anymore. I don’t want to be patient. I want you. All of you. And everything that comes with that.”
She looked stunned. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Jake …”
“Don’t say anything.” He put up a hand to stop her. “Because it’s either gonna be that you don’t feel the same way, or you’ll say something you’re not ready for just to smooth things over. But you came over wanting to know what tonight was about, and now you know.”
His heart was pounding, and he could feel beads of sweat between his shoulder blades. Honesty had been his only real option, but now that he’d been honest—dead honest—he was terrified about where that would lead.
* * *
It was just as well that Jake had told her not to say anything. Breanna was so stunned by his pronouncement that she had no words left in her head anyway.
She sat on the sofa, a good two feet of space between them, and stared at him. She reached a hand toward him, but he stood and stepped away so she couldn’t reach him.
“Don’t. Not yet, I mean. If you touch me, then I’ll touch you, and … next thing we know we’ll be in bed, and I don’t want to do that until we know where we are.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Jake.” She found her voice, finally, and considered what she wanted to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”
He nodded and tucked his hands into his armpits in a gesture of self-defense. “I get that, but you’ve got to risk it at some point if you want us to be together. Or maybe you don’t want us to be together. Maybe that’s what you’ve been trying to say all this time.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Look, go home. Think about it. Think about what you want. If you want me, let me know. If you don’t … Well, it’s gonna hurt like hell, but I guess I’ll survive.”
Breanna blinked a few times, processing the fact that he was asking her to leave. She got up slowly, but she didn’t yet move for the door.
“So, this is an ultimatum?”
“An ultimatum? No. I wouldn’t say that.” A muscle flexed in his jaw, and she could see that he was nervous. “It’s more a statement of purpose. I want to move forward. If you can’t do that, if you need to stand still for whatever reason, that’s okay. But I can’t stand still with you.”
He was right that if she answered him now, she was going to say the wrong thing. Either she would rush into his arms and tell him that she wanted him—which she did, so much—or she would break it off in a desperate bid to protect herself.
She couldn’t do either of those things, not now. She needed time. She needed to think.
She realized wit
h a sudden, jarring dread that either way, they still had to work together.
“The house …”
“It’s almost done. Nothing left but details and cleanup. If this doesn’t go the way I want it to, I’ll be done and out of your hair in another week.” He gave her a wry smile. “But I really hope it’ll go the way I want it to.”
There was nothing left to say for the moment. Nothing left to do but take time by herself to think.
28
Breanna had so many reasons not to be with Jake.
She didn’t want to put her heart at risk. She didn’t want to be irresponsible. She didn’t want to involve her boys in a relationship that might end badly.
But in the end, the one that weighed most heavily on her mind was the thought that she was cheating on Brian.
She’d lost him a long time ago, so long that she sometimes had to look at his picture to remind herself about the details and the contours of his face. It had been so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a couple, to belong to someone every bit as much as you belonged to yourself.
But there wasn’t a time limit on grief, she figured. There wasn’t a moment when you were just done being lonely and sad. You couldn’t simply cross the finish line and congratulate yourself on having survived.
She had the option of being with someone new, but Brian didn’t. Where was his happiness? Where was his second chance?
If the Delaneys knew nothing else, they knew loyalty. The Delaneys were loyal down to their bones, down to the very marrow of their souls. Who would she even be if she could just walk away from Brian’s memory to love someone else, to move on with her life?
She thought about all of that alone in bed after she left Jake. She’d hurt him, she knew. She’d had no business getting involved with him if she couldn’t move forward, couldn’t give him what he deserved from a woman.
Since Brian had died, Breanna had her role. She was a loving mother, a dutiful daughter, a steadfast sister and friend. She helped others. She volunteered, donated, and made herself useful every day in a thousand ways.
She’d wanted to have a house of her own because she’d felt ready to claim something that was just hers. And maybe those feelings had spread, leading her to believe she could have something with Jake.
But she’d be foolish to think that her actions wouldn’t have consequences for the other people in her life. And she’d been kidding herself if she’d thought she could set aside the commitment she’d made to Brian.
She couldn’t sleep, but she had to try. She had so many things to do the next day, mostly for other people—she had to help Mrs. Granfield, prepare for the move to the new house, help organize an event for the Historical Society, put in some time for the PTA.
People expected her to be there, both mentally as well as physically. She couldn’t let them down.
She’d let Jake down, and she’d let herself down. She could at least show up for everyone else.
* * *
In the morning, Sandra peered at Breanna with an appraising eye.
“What’s the matter with you, girl? You look like you’ve run a marathon in tight shoes. Hmph.” She let out a sound that might have been a laugh, amused at her own humor.
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t feel fine—didn’t feel anything vaguely similar to fine. But she didn’t want to discuss it. And even if she had wanted to discuss it, Sandra would be the last person she’d want to talk to, considering the woman’s near supernatural ability to divine her children’s thoughts. She needed to keep some things, some feelings, to herself, and that would be impossible if she opened up to her mother.
“Well, that’s a hot, steaming pile of fresh manure, and I guess we both know it,” Sandra said. “I suppose it’s got something to do with that contractor of yours being out with that Ferris girl last night.” Breanna must have looked surprised, because Sandra scoffed. “Your brother talks to me, you know. At least somebody does.”
“Jake can see whomever he wants.” The line hadn’t been very effective last night with Liam, and Breanna didn’t expect it to be any more helpful now. But it was what she had.
“Oh, for God’s sake, girl,” Sandra said. “Just admit it threw you for a damned loop. There’s no shame in it. Why, I guess anyone would have been upset under the circumstances.”
When Sandra put it that way, Breanna had to admit that maybe the stoic act was a little stupid. She slumped a little, her shoulders dropping from where they’d been somewhere up around her ears.
“Oh, God.” Breanna rubbed her tired eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, maybe I’m a little … thrown. And maybe I had a rough night. But that doesn’t mean it’s anything I can’t handle.”
Sandra had been making a pot of coffee, and she held a bag of French roast in her hand, waving it around a little for emphasis. “I don’t believe I accused you of being near collapse,” she pointed out.
Breanna thought that maybe if she kept her head down and focused on the job at hand—making breakfast for Ryan and Liam so they could get to work on the ranch at dawn—her mother might let the subject drop.
She should have known better.
“Either you two had an understanding that you wouldn’t be going around with other people—”
“We didn’t.”
“—or you didn’t, but either way, it doesn’t mean you want to hear about him hittin’ the town with a woman half your age.”
That last bit jolted Breanna, and she turned to gape at her mother.
“Half my age?! She’s not sixteen!”
Sandra let out a grunt. “Heh. Kinda looks like it, though. You have to wonder about a man, wants to go out with someone who looks like she oughta be hanging streamers for the damned junior prom.”
For the first time since Liam had burst into the house with the news the night before, Breanna smiled, just a little. Sandra didn’t have to offer words of wisdom, or an embrace, or heartwarming platitudes to make Breanna feel better. She just had to be Sandra.
“I love you, Mom.” Breanna pulled her mother into a quick, businesslike hug.
“Hmph. Well.” Sandra squeezed back for just a second, then went to put some bread into the toaster.
* * *
Gen heard about the Kye incident early, before Breanna had even showered and dressed for the day. Ryan heard it from Liam out on the ranch that morning, and Gen heard it from Ryan when she called him to tell him that J.R., at less than a year and a half, had said his first sentence.
Naturally, Gen led with the thing about the sentence when she burst into the main house that morning with J.R. on her hip. Once everybody had indicated that they were duly impressed, Gen pulled Breanna aside and hissed in an angry whisper, “Bree, I am so sorry about Jake. The asshole. I’d thought he was better than that.”
Of course, Breanna explained that they hadn’t been exclusive.
“Well, that’s crap,” Gen said, putting the baby down to let him toddle around on the kitchen floor. “Just because you weren’t wearing his letterman’s sweater doesn’t mean he can parade around town with another woman.”
At this point, Breanna was sick of trying to act nonchalant. Putting up a front was just too damned much work. She sank into one of the chairs at the big kitchen table and sighed.
“He said he did it to make me jealous.”
“What!?” Gen’s sudden exclamation upset J.R., who started to cry. She sat down next to Breanna, picked the boy up, balanced him on her knee, then began to bounce the knee and the boy up and down in the classic pony ride style used by mothers for generations.
“Oh … it’s not his fault, really,” Breanna said, feeling every bit of the weariness brought on by her sleepless night. “I mean, it is. It was a stupid thing to do. But I get why he did it. He’s tired of being put off. And I don’t blame him.”
“But—”
Breanna put up a hand to stall Gen’s argument. “He told me he loves me.”
If the idea had been to prevent a potential rant by Gen, this had done it.
“Oh,” she said. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Gen propped her chin on her hand, her elbow resting on the table. “He wanted things to move faster between us, but I stalled. He wanted the boys to know we were a couple, but I wasn’t ready.”
Gen jiggled her son and looked at Breanna with concern. “But you’re sleeping together, right? So that’s—”
Breanna shook her head.
“You’re not?” Gen gaped at her.
“We did, once. And then I said I wanted to slow things down, and since then …”
“Oh, jeez. I can see why he tried something desperate.”
Breanna could see it, too—though that didn’t make things any clearer. “I don’t know what to do,” she moaned.
“Well, do you love him back?”
Gen asked the question so matter-of-factly that it seemed like it should be simple. But it wasn’t simple at all—not to Breanna.
“That’s not the point.”
Gen raised her eyebrows. “How is it not the point?”
“I have other things to consider!” Breanna threw her hands into the air in frustration. “Other people to consider! The boys—”
“The boys will handle it if you decide you want a relationship. They’re not little kids anymore. They’ll be fine.”
Gen was gazing at Breanna with kindness and concern, but Breanna didn’t want either of those things. She didn’t want the kindness because she wasn’t sure she deserved it. And she didn’t want the concern because it implied that she was in a position to need concern, and that was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? Hadn’t all of this drama happened precisely because Breanna knew how to protect herself without anyone else’s help?
“I notice you never answered the question,” Gen pointed out.
“What question?”
“The one about whether you love him.”
“I don’t know what I feel.”
Gen reached out and put a hand on Breanna’s arm. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. But you’d better get over that soon, because if last night was any indication, he’s tired of waiting.”