Page 80 of Silent Is The Heart

I want to argue and tell him he’s just spun up over everything and drawing wild conclusions. I don’t know how Jason found me, though. He said he found out I was working back at Hampton Hills from the internet, but that doesn’t explain how he knew where I was staying. George didn’t own the cottage I’m staying in when Jason and I first started dating.

“I’ll ask him,” I mumble, my stomach churning, wondering what the new Jason was capable of. He picked my lock, after all.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It definitely matters. If he stole from you, he needs to admit it and return whatever he took.”

“No. It doesn’t matter,” he grumbles again, picking up his leather jacket to reveal his clothes protected underneath it. I try to make sense of why he was so clearly upset about the robbery, only to sound like he doesn’t care now.

“Whatdoesn’t matter?”

“Any of it,” he huffs, stuffing his wet legs into his jeans. “I’m the son of a criminal. You’re married. It’s never going to work.”

“Easton, I know things seem so screwed up right now—more screwed up than I could ever think possible—but I love you. None of this changes how I feel about you.”

“What the fuck is love?” he rasps, his voice sounding more worn than I’ve ever heard it. Bending down, he grabs his jacket. “You were depressed, and I had a crush. And then our realities came back to us. If you don’t see the wake-up call, your head’s in the clouds. It’d never work. We were fooling ourselves.”

I think I like it better when he holds things in. His logic cuts me to the bone.

“Easton, you don’t mean that. I know you don’t.”

Shoving his bare feet into his boots, he levels a look at me. “I told you. I’m not the marrying type.”

I could cry and tell him how much it hurts me to see him put that bullshit armor of his back on, but I’m part of the shitshow that caused it. Maybe not by choice—I didn’t ask for Jason to show back up in my life, but I could have done a better job of letting Easton know he wouldn’t be a part of my future. When he stomps past me, I grab a hold of his arm.

“Easton, stop. Please. You’re just hurting. You don’t mean this.”

I find myself backed up against the soaked ivy as he pivots and steps toward me. He hasn’t laid a hand on me, but the wild look in his eyes is a side of him I’ve never seen.

“Do you know the thoughts that went through my head?” he whispers, only inches away from my face. I can see how red his eyes are now and the sad lines on his face. He’s shivering, his lips tinted purple. “How I thought about you and him sitting there laughing and plotting the whole thing?” he continues. “How I thought about him fucking you? You moaning and smiling under him? How I thought about what it would feel like to have my hands around his neck?”

It’s a disturbing picture, but even more so because of the self-hatred I can see all over his face as he grimaces and chokes up. “Because I did. You know why?” he steps back, panting, and spreads his arms out wide. “Because I’m the son of a criminal. It’s in my blood. I’m no good. Isthatlove?”

He lets out a broken sound that mirrors the sob that falls from my lips and then swipes the rain from his face, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the fuck love is, but if it’sthat, I don’t want it—and you shouldn’t either.”

CHAPTER 40

Aaron

The way the couch cushion is bulging around me is like my own personal little nest. The blanket I’ve swaddled myself in adds an extra shield from reality, feeling like a cocoon. I could just live here—here on this couch, under this blanket.

The news recycles again to its headline wrap-up for viewers who’ve missed the top of the hour. I stare at the screen as numb as the first time I heard it, as numb as when the police came to my door this morning as I was about to leave for work.

‘The body of an unidentified man was found on Maranacook Lake today, discovered by two fishermen.’

I’m sure once the police release the details of how the unidentified man was already presumed dead once two years ago, the press will have a field day. I should finally tell my family now. There’s no excuse not to. There’s nothing left for Jason to hide from.

Maybe I should have asked him what he was doing when he wasn’t with me at the cottage. He spent more time away from here than he did here.‘Taking care of some things,’he’d said. What things? Things that got him killed?

Before I can deal with my parents and George, it seems only right to tell someone else first. Digging for my phone from underneath the blanket, I palm it and stare at Easton’s contactpicture. It can’t go any worse than the last phone call I made, but I don’t have the energy to speak right now after my day at the police station.

Jason’s dead. They found his body in Lake Maranacook.

I hitSend, knowing it’s the most messed up text message in history. At least this way, he’ll have time to process it. I think our draw to be near each other conflicted with our need to process things lately, causing us more problems than necessary.

My phone rings seconds after I set it down. So much for processing.

“What?” he gasps.

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