Page 15 of Fighting For You
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jude
Five years ago
Jess stood at the door of my house, eyes red and jaw set with watery determination.
“Pop, come in.”
I couldn’t call her by name—not her real name. I’d forbidden myself from it the day she accepted Kurt’s proposal—maybe even the day after I’d taken her to lunch with the grandparents. It seemed too intimate, and the same held true now.
She moved quickly inside, stopping to stand with her arms folded and tucked tight against her like a shield at the edge of my livingroom.
“Have a seat.” I hoped she would, but when her head shook just once, I accepted the inevitability.
This wasn’t a catch up. It wasn’t a friendly house call.
This was it.
I sat in a chair a few feet from her, wishing she’d join me and knowing she wouldn’t. I couldn’t stand next to her for this—I couldn’t tower over her small form without feeling worse about all of this.
Silence stretched between us, only the crackle of my fireplace providing reprieve from the roar of nothing filling the space. She needed time, and I wouldn’t rush her.
Jess was petite to begin with—a tiny powerhouse of determination and brilliance and grit. She was also knee-weakeningly beautiful, but I’d long since forbidden myself to notice her dark hair or the slope of her neck or the curve of her lovely top lip.
I’d never identified so sharply as a failure until lately when I faced ruining the happiness of someone I… cared so much about while also doing the only thing I felt I could. There was no way to do this without someone getting hurt. Withouthergetting hurt.
Finally, her lips pressed thin before she spoke. “How could you do it?”
The final word in her sentence trailed off into nothing as her voice cut out, full of exhaustion and pain. My stomach clutched and a knot tied my tongue.
“I—I can’t explain what happened. All I can say is I didn’t lie. I didn’t make anything up. I swear to you.”
She swallowed hard, lashes fluttering like she might be staving off tears.Crap.I didn’t want her to cry—couldn’t take the sight of it.
“How can I believe you? Why can’t you just tell mewhat happened?” Her arms pressed tighter to her, a vise against her body.
But I couldn’t tell her. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t tell her he’d been cheating on her—and that he’d tried to force someone, and that he’d hurt her when she refused him. He’d promised me he’d tell her, and I hated myself for agreeing not to be the one. Maybe it was selfish to avoid being the person to destroy her world, though obviously it hadn’t done me any good.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened.”
Her chin jutted out. “Clearly. You’re just so sorry you got my fiancé fired and now he’s so devastated he’s?—”
Her head whipped away and she swiped at her cheeks, dashing the tears away before I could see them.
I mentally glued my feet to the floor to keep from going to her. She wouldn’t want it—wouldn’t want me, even if it killed me to leave her there, breaking.
I’d wrap my arms around her and just hold her. I’d tell her he was nothing and she was everything. That he never deserved her and she deserved every good thing—someone who would love her and be faithful to her and want her as much or more than she wanted them.
Hell, I’d lay myself open, get on my knees for her, if I thought she could hear me or see me. But wresting this moment for myself—for my own gain—would do nothing but hurt me and her. It would be a real betrayal of our friendship and a denial of her pain, even if it killed me that she cared enough about him to be so broken by this.
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Kurt had gone to the schoolhouse under the guise of finishing out his last six months before retirement, but he hadn’t been given a choice. That he was still retiring was a generosity I wasn’t sure he deserved, but the unit had at least given him that.
What loss would there be if I did tell her? Hadn’t he broken his promise to tell her the truth when, instead of admitting he’d assaulted someone, and it wasn’t the first time, he blamed me for ruining him and left her?
Guilt slashed through me because even now, I felt the question slither through my mind.Are you keeping your promise to him, or are you protecting yourself so you’re not the one to have to tell her the whole truth?
“Pop, I’m sorry you’re hurting. I wish I could take it from you.” Damn, how I wished I could. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, and I’m worried telling you what happened will only make it worse.”
