Page 72 of Silent Is The Heart

Dancing…Visions of Easton. Memories of howEastonmade me feel even before I knew I was falling for him. That’s how talk of dancing should make someone feel. Not this horrifying paralysis that has bile rising up my throat.

The death grip knots I’ve made in the front of Jasons’s sweater finally loosen and my palms flatten against his chest. “I can’t.” I push, breaking free of that suffocating breath on my neck. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, releasing his hold on my hips to run his hands up my arms. “We don’t have to. I know it’s been awhile. It probably feels like we have to get to know each other again.” He smiles and leans in like he’s going to kiss me again. “But we can look forward to that,” he adds with a smile.

“No.” My voice comes out firmer this time as I dodge my head to the side. “I don’t think I can go to Brazil.”

I don’tthinkI can’t. IknowI can’t. Nothing in me wants to go.

“You just need time.” He smiles, that laughing look that always made me feel unheard.

Drawing away, I take a step back and shake my head. On this, I need to be heard.

“No. I know it all sounds wonderful, but…I just can’t.”

My message finally registers on his face, his playful look sagging. I’m almost grateful that his nostrils flare. At least it means he knows I’m serious.

“Is this about that guy?”

Hugging myself, I wish it was Easton’s arms wrapped around me instead of my own. I bite my lip, knowing that not replying must look guilty. Easton’s not just‘that guy,’though. Not to me.

“You think you’re in love with him?” It’s rhetorical and full of disgust. Snorting, he shakes his head and glances skyward.

“I love you too,” I assure him in a rush. At least, I think I did once, but I don’t want to end things with him on bad terms. “I want to help you Jason, and I will, but…I’m sorry. Everything’s changed.” An odd sense of peace settles over me now that the words are out. They’re not quite true, so I amend them with more clarity. “I’vechanged.”

He studies me for a long time like a newly discovered blemish on a neglected family heirloom. Nodding, he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “So…one little mishap, and that’s that, then?”

Alittle mishap?He cannot possibly see disappearing for two years as a little mishap. I walked myself into an argument with Easton earlier. I’m not going to make the same mistake now. That will get us nowhere.

“I think we should go talk to a lawyer.”

“About what?” he asks like it’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, as he shuts the music off on his phone.

“About what happened to you. About all of it. We could get advice on what’s best to do.”

“I don’t need a lawyer. They’ll want to go to court, and then I’ll be right back where I started being exposed to those criminals. Did you listen to anything I said to you?”

“Yes, but I could talk to one on your behalf while you…lie low or something. I won’t tell them where you are, and we can get it worked out so you can go back to Seattle. You could be able to see your mother again. I know this hit her hard.”

Pinching his eyes shut like I’m daft, he shakes his head. “She doesn’t—” Sighing, he holds a hand out. “Forget it. It’s fine. I’m happy in Brazil. Happier even.” He shrugs, rubbing that dig in. “Just…I thought maybemy husbandmight be happy there with me.”

I’m not even uncomfortable over his clear bitterness. Maybe he did love me once, or maybe he thinks he still does. Maybe he doesn’t know what love is and can’t see that I’m just a possession to him. He’ll never know what love is, though, if I go with him. And I’ll never feel it again if I do.

“He might have been,” I digress, gently. “Maybe if he’d had a choice, but…you know things weren’t always perfect between us. We can’t pretend they were.”

Some of the wounded pomp leaves his posture. “I thought they were pretty perfect.”

That does make me feel bad—if he truly felt that way. Still, I can’t change that I saw things differently. Moving to a new country isn’t going to change that.

Stepping forward, he adds sagely, “Nothing’s perfect, Aaron. You’re not so naïve that you think so, do you? That’s what marriage is—it’s work—and I know this might seem like more work than average, but I didn’t ask for this. I know you didn’t either, but it’s what we’ve been dealt. Are you really going to give up on us when we have another chance?”

I know he’s struggling to process this, but his words seem so unfair. As I stare at him, all I can think is thatInever gave up.

He must read something in my silence because he scoffs. “Or you must really be in love with this guy.” Shaking his head, he paces to the window, hands on his hips. “Lucky him. He must be pretty perfect not to have any baggage. You always said I cared too much about what people think. Well, apparently living with a husband who’s down on his luck is too much for you.”

How can he put his decision to disappear for two years on me? I’ve tried to save him his pride through all of this, but my decision has nothing to do with a shallowness he must think I possess.

“That’s not true.Everyonehas baggage. His father killed his mother, and now he’s out on parole, staying with him. He has plenty of baggage.”

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