Page 41 of Love Medley
He makes me feel… grounded. Like I can breathe a little easier just by being near him.
But I shouldn’t be surprised. Every time I see this man, he’s steady and calm. My safe harbor. His gentle way of being puts me at ease in a way I’ve never known.
Why did I have to meet the perfect man…only to offer him up on a silver platter?
“Hi,” Jake says, his gray eyes twinkling down at me.
“Hi,” I say back, breathless with my internal discovery. Does it even matter what I feel if he doesn’t feel the same?
We stand there longer than is socially acceptable, but I seem unable to tear my eyes from his.
After an extended moment, I clear my throat and stand aside, gesturing to my apartment. “Here it is in all its glory.”
Jake grins and strides in, his thumbs already hooked into his pockets. Riveted to his every movement, I trace his features in detail: the dark, mussed hair, the outline of his muscular biceps, his lean frame.
Then I shake my head. What am I doing? Focus on the objective, Lucy.
“It’s nice,” Jake says. “I have to say, your place is way neater than mine.”
His innocuous comment only reminds me of Weston and makes my heart pound erratically. I hold a hand to my chest, steadying myself.
Immediately, Jake is by my side. “Lucy, you went pale just now. Was it something I said? Let’s sit down.”
He guides me to the couch.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, feeling faint. “I just realized that my penchant for cleaning got dramatically worse when Weston and I were dating. He had a lot of specific ideas about how he wanted the apartment to look.”
Jake’s eyes flare with anger. Strangely, I’ve never worried he would lose his temper with me. Maybe it’s because his anger is never directed at me—only ever on my behalf—and there’s a world of difference between the two. His gestures have always been gentle. Never frightening.
I wonder what it would be like…to be with someone that brings that kind of tranquility into my life.
“Did Weston live here?” Jake asks in an even tone.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus back on the conversation. “For the most part. He had his own apartment, but he was rarely there.”
“It must be hard living in a place where there are a lot of painful emotions.”
Jake has no idea. But then I think of him growing up with that awful family of his. So actually, maybe he knows exactly what it’s like.
“Yeah,” I say. And then to my surprise, all the words come flooding out. In stutters and stops, I tell him an abbreviated version of the events of the night that still haunts my dreams. “I was locked in the bathroom…for hours. He didn’t hit me, but that’s probably because there was a door between us. I called my friend Amelia for help, and I think she saved my life.”
Jake listens to the whole story without commenting, just nodding and keeping eye contact. At some point, he grabs my hand and squeezes it periodically just to let me know he’s there.
I had forgotten what it was like to have a man listen to what I had to say before bulldozing me with his own opinions.
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” Jake says, his eyes stormy. “Weston is an ass that doesn’t deserve to walk on the same ground you do. I hope you know that.”
I give him a half-smile. “I’m starting to.”
Jake hesitates, and then says, “Did Weston criticize what you were wearing the other day?”
My cheeks grow hot. “Yeah. This is mortifying to admit now, but Weston used to pick my clothes. He…just had a lot of opinions, and this way I’d steer clear of his anger.”
“Fuck,” Jake breathes, his hands fisted in his lap. “I hope you know now that he should be jailed for doing that to you. No man should ever tell you what to wear or what to do.”
God, this man. Why hadn’t I met him two years ago instead of Weston? The trajectory of my life would have been so different. “Thank you,” I whisper.
For a short time, we sit in silence. I’m increasingly furious with myself for dating a jerk like Weston when there were obviously good guys out in the world. Jake is certainly one of them.
