I can’t stand to be around you.
His gaze moved downward and settled on her stomach, for just a second, before he nailed her with an intense look. “So you never went through with it?” he asked bluntly.
“With what?” she managed, wanting to hear him say it. The one thing he’d been so pissed about.
“Having Jesse’s baby.”
Raine glared at him, even as her heart split wide open. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She didn’t want to talk about it, not with him. That time had come and gone, and he’d been nowhere to be found.
“Besides the fact that it’s none of your business…” She paused and grabbed an empty glass off the counter. “Do you see a kid running around here?”
Raine crossed to the fridge and yanked open the door. She grabbed a large jug of water, and then everything inside her stilled. Jake had moved and was inches from her.
“You’re wrong about that, Raine.”
She forced herself to pour the glass and then shoved the jug back into the fridge before turning around. He looked so hard and fierce and hurt that for a moment all she wanted to do was wrap him in her arms and ease his burden.
The moment fled as quickly as it had come. He would push her away. It’s what Jake did, and besides, she was so raw inside, she was no help to anyone. Especially Jake. He’d disappeared from her life when she needed him the most, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive him for that.
I’m so sorry for what happened. I never meant for any of it. Please, are you there? I can’t stop thinking about you. About what we did that night. God, Jesse must hate us.
His drunken words, still on her voice mail, echoed in her head, but she shook them away, feeding on the cold anger inside her.
“How’s that again?” she asked and then shoved her way past him. Gibson happily followed in her footsteps and jumped onto the sofa as she stood in front of the large window overlooking the trees out back. Blue patches of water glittered through the oak and linden trees, and she shivered, hating the emptiness—the bareness—of everything.
It was November, a month of dormancy, when all the living, green things wither and die and disappear until spring. She shook her head and drained her glass. She was just like the big old oak tree that stretched above the bench out back. Dormant. Existing in a state of sleep. And yet, unlike the tulip bulbs that lay beneath the earth in front of her home, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever be able to thrive again. She sighed.
Half the time she didn’t know if she wanted to.
“Jesse made it my business when he asked me to look out for you.”
Raine closed her eyes, glad that Jake couldn’t see the pain in them. He wouldn’t understand. No one would. Hell, she didn’t even understand the breadth of her emotions sometimes.
“And you’ve done such a bang-up job of that, haven’t you?” Raine whirled around. “I haven’t seen you since a month after Jesse’s funeral. And I can count on one hand…” She looked at her outstretched fingers and snorted. “No, hold on.” She held her middle finger up and shoved it in his face, a big fuck-you. “This is how many times I’ve heard from you.” Suddenly the hurt inside was too much and her body shivered from the force of it. “Once.” She laughed harshly, ignoring Gibson as the puppy began to whimper, sensing his master’s anguish.
“That’s bull. I emailed you more than—”
“One phone call is all I got, Jake, and you were drunk,” she said hoarsely. “Emails don’t count. Not for me. I deserve more than that.” Her voice broke. “You have no idea…”
His face whitened and he took a step. For one crazy moment Raine thought he was going to reach for her, and she leaned forward, like a fool…like a starved fool who hadn’t been touched by anyone in so long. God, she just wanted to lean on someone. Lean on someone strong, and forget.
Marnie and Steven were so fragile, still dealing with the loss of their son and Steven’s illness; Raine didn’t want to add to their burden. So she acted as if everything were all right. She let them spoil her however they wanted, because she knew it gave them comfort, but mostly because it was just easier to let them. But it wasn’t enough for Raine, and with her closest friend, Maggie, gone to LA with Cain…there was no one.
After months of walking through life in someone else’s shoes—some false facade she’d built up—Raine felt the cracks beneath the surface. She felt them every day…getting larger, deeper…and knew that if she didn’t deal with them soon, they’d swallow her whole.
If she disappeared down the rabbit hole, Raine was pretty sure she’d never find her way back.
Funny, some days it was all she wished for.
“Are you still considering having Jesse’s baby?”
Something about his tone got to her, and Raine glanced up sharply, her pain forgotten as anger replaced it in one fast, hot thrust. “What do you care, Jake?” She shook her head. “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re going to”—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“be here for me. If you cared enough, you wouldn’t have left in the first place.” Her eyes narrowed. “Besides, I know what you really think. You thought I was nuts to consider having Jesse’s baby after he died. In fact, if I remember correctly, you told me I couldn’t even look after a goddamn cat.”
Gibson chose that moment to bark sharply, his head going back and forth between the two of them, his tail wagging at half-mast. He knew the humans in the room with him were on edge. Raine glanced at the dog. Gibson, you have no bloody idea.
“Guess I proved you wrong, Jake. I’ve had Gibson a whole four weeks, and other than one trip to the vet because he ate a necklace, we’ve been fine.”
“A dog is a whole lot different than a baby.”