Page 127 of Dallas

“Great. Then that’s...fine. But I’m going to need you to go somewhere else.”

“Where? I can’t...where?”

“Then I will. I’m going to a hotel.”

“You can’t leave your own house.”

“I’m not staying here with you.”

He bent and picked his clothes up off the floor, putting them on as quickly as possible. He walked away from her into the living room, grabbing his T-shirt off the back of the couch.

Poppy lifted her head from where she was sleeping in front of the fire, unperturbed until that moment.

Jace flung open the closet and pulled out his hat and coat, putting both of them on before going to the door and picking up his keys and wallet.

Horror crept over her, along with the realization that he really was leaving. “Jace!”

He turned to look at her, waiting for her to speak.

“You won’t really go. We’re friends...we...”

He shook his head. “No. Text me when you figure out somewhere else to stay that will take Poppy.”

“Your animals...”

“I’ll come back to take care of them. We won’t run into each other.”

He put his hand on the doorknob and anger shot through her, rescuing her from dissolving into tears. “You’re throwing away fourteen years of friendship because of sex?” she spat. “Then maybe what we had didn’t mean as much as I thought it did.”

“No, Sam. You’re throwing away love because of fear.” He opened the door, a shaft of cold air bursting through the comfortable warmth of the house, and then he slammed the door behind him. And he was gone.

Really gone.

Her legs wobbled, gave out beneath her, and she went to her knees, to the floor, too numb to cry. She heard his truck motor. Heard the vehicle roar through the snow and out of the driveway.

Poppy got up and wandered, not to where Samantha was on the floor, but to the door, whining, the high-pitched sound hitting Sam right in her heart, pain splintering outward.

She moved over to where Poppy sat, wrapping her arms around the big dog, and she buried her face in her fur. And then she cried like she’d lost her best friend.

Because she had.

Jace hated motel rooms. They weren’t his, and he hated that feeling. But it seemed to fit right now because his body didn’t feel like it was his either.

It was numb. All of him was. And for now, he was thankful for that fact. Because like any good physical injury, once the shock wore off it was going to smart like a son of a bitch.

He wasn’t looking forward to that.

Fortunately, he could prolong the moment by downing some whiskey. And then, in the morning, maybe, just maybe his head would hurt more than his heart.

He popped the top on the bottle and debated pouring a glass, then decided against it. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.

Class act. But who the hell cared? No one. Apparently, no one cared.

Not Sam.

He replayed the scene in his mind. Every ugly word that had flown between them. He’d done the right thing by leaving. He had. Because if he had stayed, he would have to watch her finally find the guy who melted her reserve. The man who would make her want to take a chance on things she clearly didn’t want to take a chance on with him.

“You can’t have me only on your terms.”

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