Page 56 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

“Jesus.” He spoke on a softly expelled breath that sounded more like a prayer than a curse. And then he started to yell. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The water was so cold she couldn’t catch her breath. Even her bones were shriveling. “It’s freezing! You lied to me!”

“If you ever do anything like that again…”

“You dared me!”

“If I’d dared you to drink poison, would you have been stupid enough to do that, too?”

She didn’t know if she was angrier with him for goading her into being so reckless or at herself for taking the bait. Water flew as she slapped it with her arm. “Look at me! I act like a normal person when I’m around other people!”

“Normal?” He blinked the splash from his eyes. “Is that why I found you holed up in your apartment looking like spoiled shrimp?”

“At least I was safe there, instead of catching pneumonia here!” Her teeth began to chatter, and her icy, waterlogged clothes pulled at her. “Or maybe making me jump off a cliff is your idea of therapy?”

“I didn’t think you’d do it!”

“I’m nuts, remember?”

“Molly…”

“Crazy Molly!”

“I didn’t say—”

“That’s what you’re thinking. Molly the fruitcake! Molly the lunatic! Off her rocker! Certifiable! The tiniest little miscarriage, and she flips out!”

She choked. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t ever intended to mention it again. But the same force that had made her jump off the cliff had pushed out the words.

A thick, heavy silence fell between them. When he finally broke it, she heard his pity. “Let’s go in now so you can get warmed up.” He turned away and began swimming toward the shore.

She had started to cry, so she stayed where she was.

He reached the bank, but he didn’t try to climb out. Instead, he looked back at her. The water lapped at his waist, and his voice was a gentle ripple. “You need to get out. It’ll be dark soon.”

The cold had numbed her limbs, but it hadn’t numbed her heart. Grief overwhelmed her. She wanted to sink under the surface and never come up. She gulped for air and whispered words she’d never intended to say. “You don’t care, do you?”

“You’re just trying to pick a fight,” he said softly. “Come on. Your teeth are chattering.”

Words slid through the tightness in her throat. “I know you don’t care. I even understand.”

“Molly, don’t do this to yourself.”

“We had a little girl,” she whispered. “I made them find out and tell me.”

The water lapped the bank. His hushed words drifted across the smooth surface. “I didn’t know.”

“I named her Sarah.”

“You’re tired. This isn’t a good time.”

She shook her head. Looked up into the sky. Spoke the truth, not to condemn him, just to point out why he could never understand how she felt. “Losing her didn’t mean anything to you.”

“I haven’t thought about it. The baby wasn’t real to me like it was to you.”

“She! The baby was a she, not an it!”

“I’m sorry.”

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