Page 23 of Everything We Left Unsaid

A blush warms my cheeks and spreads into my neck as memories of his intense (and rather skilled) lovemaking flood my brain. When my gaze finally returns to his face, his eyes lock with mine, the heat of his stare igniting a flame of desire deep inside me. My stomach clenches and my chest tightens as warring emotions compete for center stage. My heart screams for me to run and steer clear of the danger, but my gut begs me to give in and allow myself to get caught up in his megawatt smile and intoxicating touch again. Like I said before, traitor.

“Uh,” I begin unsteadily and clear my throat. “That- that’s fine.” In a rush to get away from Jacob’s knowing gaze, I scurry toward my bedroom to change clothes. The scents of sunscreen, bug spray, and sweat cling to my uniform, my nose curling as I peel the drab cotton material from my body. On second thought, I’d better take a shower.

A much more pleasant aroma greets me when I open the bathroom door, my stomach growling with a hunger I didn’t notice until the scent of tomatoes, basil, and melted cheese hits my nose. My breath hitches and my heart constricts, my step faltering as I round the corner and step into the kitchen. Jacob sits at the table, his back facing the hallway from which I’ve just emerged. Chloe’s highchair is positioned directly across from him and my grandmother is seated to his left. It’s a picture of what my family could’ve been.

There’s an empty seat waiting for me across from my grandmother, but I can’t get my feet to move. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I watch the three of them interact. So natural, so comfortable and loving. The answering wave of emotion is too much. Needing a moment to collect myself, I take a step back, attempting to slip away and into my room before anyone notices my presence. But Chloe sees me before I can get away.

“Mama!” she squeals excitedly. Jacob and my grandmother both turn toward me, but I can’t stand for either of them to see me break down again. I’ve had enough of looking weak. So I retreat to my room and shut the door, pressing my back against the panel. My eyes close and I rest my head back as a sigh escapes my lips. Tears dampen my cheeks and I swipe at them angrily. I used to be so strong, so independent. Until Jacob. He weakened my defenses, making me believe in love and happily ever after.

And then he broke me.

I never expected it to hurt so much when he left, but I fell hard for him and there was no going back. Then he ghosted me. Or at least that’s what it seemed like, though to be honest, I still don’t know what to believe. Is he telling the truth now, or is he deceiving me? But why? What would he have to gain?

Three quick taps against my door startle me from my ruminations.

“Abby?” Jacob’s soft timbre sounds from the other side. “Are you alright?”

I take a deep breath and scrub my hands over my cheeks, removing any remaining moisture. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute,” I reply, hoping he’ll leave it alone and return to the kitchen. Of course, I don’t have that kind of luck.

“You didn’t seem fine a minute ago.” Damn it. I hesitate, not sure what to say. He takes this as a sign I want to talk. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.

If I turn him down, he’ll think I’m too upset to even talk to him, and in some twisted way, I feel like he wins if that happens. But if I let him in and allow him to see what a mess I am, he’ll know I’m not okay. I let my hair down from its damp bun and shake it out before pinching my cheeks in the hopes of giving them some color.

“Just a minute,” I call out. Checking my reflection, I cringe at how tired I look. Dark circles rim my eyes and my skin appears dull and sallow, despite my tan complexion and hours spent outside every day.

Opening the door, I step aside and let him in. He stares down at me and invades my space, his eyes full of concern and his brows furrowed as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“What happened back there?”

“Nothing,” I deflect and turn away from him, pretending to busy myself with straightening my already made bed.

“Abby.” His deep, honey rich voice licks up my spine, pleading, scolding. He knows I’m lying and demands the truth. I might as well be honest. What do I have to lose?

My heart again.

“It’s just,” I begin, trying to find the right words, “when I saw the three of you sitting at the table together, like a family, it took my breath away.” He sucks in a breath between his teeth, the sound harsh as a scream in my otherwise silent room. The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he approaches. I continue quickly so he doesn’t misunderstand my meaning. “It felt like it did two years ago all over again. All I could see was what had been taken from me.” He curses under his breath and I pinch my eyes shut to will the tears not to reappear. “I saw the family we could’ve been,” I confess.

Suddenly his hands are on my arms and I’m being turned, his meaningful gaze boring into me. “We can still be a family,” he proclaims. “Maybe not the one you pictured. Maybe not a conventional one. But still, a family.”

“How?” My voice is pleading, reluctant, skeptical. I don’t even know if I can trust him.

He straightens, a look of determination settling on his face. “The first thing we’re gonna do is find out who fucked with our family.”

My body warms at the words “our family,” but when I look into his eyes, the anger sends a shiver down my spine. I never witnessed how powerful and formidable he could be, but seeing him now, ready to go to battle for Chloe and me, I pity any foe he faces.

“And once we do, and that person answers for the wrongs they’ve committed against us,” he continues, stepping closer, his eyes softening minutely, “we’re going to figure this whole family thing out.” I swallow thickly and nod my head in response, unable to form words past the lump in my throat.

“Ready to go watch that movie?” Jacob offers, gently grasping my small hand in his large one. I let him take it, basking in the warmth that envelops my cold fingers. He leads me out of my room and down the hall, his hand remaining wrapped around mine. Only when we’ve made it to the kitchen table does he release me and pull out my chair.

“Sit,” he commands softly. “You should eat before it gets cold.” My hunger has returned, my stomach audibly growling in protest at my earlier refusal to eat.

“Okay,” I reply lamely as I grab a slice of pizza from the box.

“Mama!” Chloe calls from her highchair, red sauce covering the lower half of her face and both hands. Looks like she enjoyed her dinner, and I’m thankful Jacob thought to do this. My grandmother reaches over and wipes at her mouth as Chloe swats her hand, shaking her head from side to side and twisting her body to get away from the offensive paper towel. Not even two years old and already so defiant. Lord, help me with this one.

Sighing, I bite into my slice and savor the familiar flavors from my favorite pizzeria. I alternate between chewing and smiling, watching as my grandmother expertly turns her attempts at cleaning Chloe into a game. They both giggle as my grandmother pretends to give her the towel and then snatches it back quickly before she can grab it. Jacob settles into the seat next to me and finishes his dinner. We both remain silent, unsure what to say. I don’t know how to feel about him holding my hand, his warm, assuring touch, or the fire behind his gaze.

When we finish our meal, the awkward silence finally at an end, I grab our plates and deposit them into the sink. Without a word, Jacob grabs the dish soap and turns on the warm water, squirting a little blue liquid into the basin.

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