Page 66 of Silent Is The Heart

“Was that…” I swallow against the dryness in my throat, not even wanting to say the words. “That looked a lot like–”

“Jason,” he blurts.

It’s a gut punch I didn’t think him capable of delivering. I know he doesn’t just mean itlooked likeJason.

“He showed up here last night. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“But he…You said he was dead.”

“He was! At least, I thought he was!” He grips two fistfuls of his hair and starts pacing. I’ve never seen his eyes look so wild. “A coroner came to see me,” he rationalizes frantically. “I planned an entire funeral and went. I sentThank Youcards to everyone who paid their respects. I havea death certificate. I…I still can’t believe it.”

Shaking his head, he stares at the floor, looking lost. I can hear my heartbeat in my head. It’s not a comfort seeing Aaron as shocked as I am, even though it tells me he was unaware that Jason was still alive.

Still alive…How the fuck is he still alive?

Suddenly, that terrified feeling I’ve had makes sense. I knew things were too good to be true.

Looking up at me slowly, he flounders for words for a second. A more pitiful expression has never been made. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I was going to tell you tonight, but when I got home, he was here again. I don’t even know how he got in. I didn’t give him a key.”

Visions of a ghost walking through walls come to mind, hearing how the man appeared here with Aaron unawares.That’s freaking ridiculous. I just saw him in the flesh. My brain feels like it’s gone for a spin in a blender.

“I don’t understand,” I mumble, shell-shocked.

“Here. Sit down. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

I go with him when he tugs my arm toward the couch. My skin crawls knowing Jason was in here last night and again today. Didhesit here? Did he touch Aaron on this couch—our couch?For the next twenty minutes, I watch his mouth move, unsure if I’m actually absorbing all the things coming out of it. Something about a building project and an organized crime faction screwing Jason over. Interest. Threats to his life. Faking his death. Fleeing to South America, where he’s started a whole new life, complete with a new medical practice.

All I see is the distress on the face of the man I’ve fallen for. This time it’s worse than the last time Jason Reider caused him pain. Where are the answers to those questions?

“What about all those bills you said you have because of him? Did he say anything about that?”

Blinking down at where he’s wringing his hands, he shakes his head absently. “I… No… I don’t know. Just that…because of these people that were trying to con him, I guess. I still feel like I dreamt the entire thing.”

What does that have to do with properties that Jason supposedly owned that Aaron didn’t know about? I desperately want to ask, but fear I already know he doesn’t have the answers and is too frazzled to even consider my suspicions. Are they suspicions or is it just jealousy? Because why would he come back if not to…

“So…he wants to get back together?”

“He got us new identities and wants me to go to Brazil with him to work at the practice he started there.” It looks as painfulfor him to answer as it was for me to ask. Why does it look painful?

“And…you’re going?”

“No. I…I don’t know.”

What… the fuck?

I’m suddenly back in that white room at Hampton Hills with my leg in traction. Helpless. Worthless. Unable to compete. What the hell did I ever do to Jason Reider that he repeatedly comes to take the only thing I’ve ever wanted?

Popping up off the couch, I can’t sit patiently any longer. I wanted answers. Well, I got them.

“I don’t want to,” Aaron amends, springing up beside me, “but…”

“Butwhat?”

“But…he’s my husband.”

I gape at the man in front of me, the one who just a few days ago told me he loved me in not so many words. The intelligent man whom I’ve seen blossom over the past few months, crawling back from the guilt and agony of saying goodbye to a broken marriage.

“Hewasyour husband. You’re a widower.”

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