Page 96 of The Love Rematch
“Em, how could you even— How could you think—”
He breaks off and steps closer before bracing his hands against the doorframe, as if physically holding himself back from her. Hard muscles flex along his arms. Suddenly, she’s surrounded by him, his heat, his breath, his essence. The salty scent in the air takes her back in time, to another life. Jake leans closer, capturing her gaze with his so she can’t look away. The deep hue of his eyes matches the midnight sky overhead, but where one is blanketed in sparkling stars, the other is dark and stormy, a tumultuous sea ready to pull her under.
He takes a deep breath.
She holds hers.
“You were everything, Em,” Jake whispers. The soft confession hits her with the force of a tsunami. She can’t move, can’t run. She’s caught in the wave with no control over her senses. The rest of the world is swept away until nothing exists outside of this moment with him. “I didn’t leave because you weren’t enough for me, and I can’t stand that you’ve spent seven years thinking I did. I left because you were too much. Too driven. Too talented. Too amazing to be stuck in some little podunk town with the likes of me. There was nothing I wanted more—and I mean, absolutely nothing—than to put a ring on your finger, and call you mine, and start a family with you, no matter how young we were. I wanted it all. I was so selfish. I wanted every little piece you could give me. And then we got that call, and it was like reality took a sledgehammer to my dreams. I knew I had to leave. Can’t you see why I had to leave?”
His voice cracks. His gaze turns pleading. He leans even closer, his body vibrating with the exertion of holding himself back.
Emily remains paralyzed, caught between her desire to run into his arms and her equally strong desire to run away—from him, from the truth she’s still not sure she’s ready to tell, from these beautiful words she’s been waiting seven years to hear.
Are they enough?
After everything that’s happened, can anything possibly be enough?
“You were the sun, Em,” Jake continues. “You made everything you touched brighter, better, more alive. And I was the dark cloud keeping you from shining. You almost lost everything because of me, and I promised myself I would never let that happen again. So I left. And I realize now, I should have stayed. I should have explained. I should have been clear. But I wasn’t strong enough then—hell, I’m barely strong enough now—to look you in the eyes before I walked away. I knew if I didn’t leave then, before the sun had time to rise, before you had time to wake up, I never would. And then you’d never be free of me. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t put myself first. I couldn’t—”
He breaks off and looks away. The veins in his neck bulge. His jaw clenches. He turns out to sea, gaze glassy and distant, as he softly completes his sentence.
“I couldn’t be like him.”
The ache in the words finally breaks her stupor. She steps closer, unable to stop herself from brushing the backs of her fingers over the tense muscles in his cheek. They soften immediately, responding to her touch.
“Jake.”
He turns back to her, looking more like a lost little boy than ever, and she understands. Without needing to hear it, she understands on a level she never did before. Still, he swallows his hesitation and forces back the dark shadows in his eyes.
“My mom was eighteen when she got pregnant with me,” he murmurs. She wants to tell him to stop, that he doesn’t need to explain, but she can tell from his expression he does. Not for her, but for him. “She knew my dad for her whole life. They were neighbors. She was shy and reserved. He was the center of attention. She loved him long before he even knew she existed, and when they got together their junior year, he could tell instantly the type of hold he already had on her. He got high off stringing her along, off seeing how far he could push things, how far she’d let him go. My mother never told him no. He was the love of her life, but to him, she was little more than a game. Until he got injured. He was drunk driving. It was completely his fault that he shattered his throwing arm. But he blamed the world. And when he found out my mother got into college, he blamed her, too. I’m not even sure my mom knows the truth, but he told me once in a drunken rage that I was no mistake. He meant for me to happen. He tried for weeks to make me happen, cajoling her to be reckless, taking off his condoms, doing whatever it took. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of my pathetic mother daring to leave him behind. And I know—Iknow—our relationship was different. Thatwewere different. But when you got that call, all I could think was I had to do the one thing my father never could. I had to prove I wasn’t like him. I had to walk away, so you could go to New York and follow your dreams and be whoever you were meant to be without my baggage holding you back.”
At the mention of New York, she goes rigid.
Jake doesn’t seem to notice. He drops his hand from the frame and cups her face, running his thumb tenderly across her cheek. Then he slides his fingers through her hair to grip the back of her neck and angles her head up so she can’t look away.
“I wanted the world for you, Em,” he says, his blue eyes drinking her in as if memorizing every detail of her face. The goodbye in his expression makes her heart thunder in protest. “I still do. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for not being the man who can give it to you.”
You were, she thinks.You are.
But he’s already dropping his arm from the door, already stepping back toward the water, already turning away while she stands there mutely, the words caught in her throat. Because she doesn’t know how to begin to tell him about the mess he left behind, about the things he missed, about the secrets she’s been keeping all this time.
A wood board creaks beneath his weight.
Emily snaps into action.
“Jake, stop.”
He turns back and stares at her over his shoulder. The hope in his eyes is so overpowering it washes everything else away. Emily forgets her doubts, her fears. The confession tumbles back down her throat, swallowed by a sudden rush of desire. Her mind is blank and her heart is full as she slowly reaches out and laces her fingers through his.
“You’re all wet,” she says lamely. “You must be cold.”
The heat in his gaze is enough to set the world ablaze, but he doesn’t argue as she tugs him toward the door. They don’t break eye contact as she leads him inside. They don’t speak either, as if under a spell, enchanted by the moon and the stars and this little slice of time that seems to exist outside of the world. Emily steps back and back and back, deeper into the shadows. The silvery glow seeping through the windows is the only source of light as she leads Jake across the open living room and through her bedroom door. She doesn’t stop until her calves hit the mattress, and even then, she only lets go in order to reach for the top button of his shirt.
It brings back a memory.
She smiles.
But unlike when they were seventeen, hurried and fumbling, Emily takes her time working her way down the center of his chest. The pads of her fingers brush hot skin as she goes. She relishes in each stolen touch. The whole time Jake watches her as if worried he might be in a dream, afraid to speak and wake himself up. As the last button slips loose, Emily meets his awed gaze. She runs her palms slowly up his abs and over his pecs, feasting on the sound of his sharp inhale. Her hands work their way across his shoulders and down the hard muscles of his arms until his shirt hits the floor with a wetslap. Emily reaches for his belt and Jake audibly swallows. Metal clinks softly as she undoes the buckle, then the button. In the silence, the hum of his zipper thunders. Jake’s stomach tenses in delicious anticipation, and Emily can’t help but run her fingers over the trail of dark hair disappearing into his boxers. She traces the elastic edge, but instead of dipping inside to feel the source of that bulge, she pushes his wet pants down his legs, bending until they hit the floor. He kicks them off the rest of the way as she rises, the air smoldering between them.
