Chapter Nine

IN THE AFTERMATH of the storm, they’d trudged back to the campsite, stripped bare, and lay within the dry blankets of the tent. Their bodies were twined together, their hearts pulling apart. They hadn’t made love. They hadn’t spoken through the night. They hadn’t needed to. Jackson had said everything he’d needed to say—and she’d begged for more. How could they mean everything to each other except the most important thing of all?

She shoved their supplies into the backpack, feeling like she was packing away the best parts of her life. Jackson disassembled the tent, and every few minutes she felt his eyes on her, holding her hostage, pinning her in place. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken heart.

Even as she fought the urge to look at him, she admitted to herself that he wasn’t getting any satisfaction from this bullshit. He was just as broken as she was.

Well…fuck him.

She zipped the backpack and turned away from him, filling her lungs with a jagged breath as she withdrew the velvet box.

“I figure we can make it back by noon if we hurry,” Jackson said.

They were leaving days earlier than they usually did. Another thing that had taken no words to decide. She’d woken up before Jackson, still tangled in his arms, and she’d gone down to the water and sat there until the sun rose, trying to weed through the barbs he’d thrown at her.

They still stung.

He was pushing her away in the harshest way possible—and she saw right through it. It was hidden behind the sheen of determination in his eyes, where only she could see it. Hidden beneath the strength in his voice, where only she could detect it. But she’d never had to fight for Jackson before. She’d never had to find a way into his heart. It was like she’d been born nestled inside it, safely cocooned by him at all times. Except now she felt raw, exposed. Alone.

“Laney?”

She closed her eyes, fisting her hand around the black box that had started this torrent of hell whirring. Her throat thickened at the sound of his boots crushing leaves, the feel of his big hand on her shoulder. He crouched beside her and reached for her hand, opening her white-knuckled fingers. The velvet box was a beacon between them.

Without a word he folded her fingers back over it, and she caught sight of the tattoo in his palm.

He kissed the top of her head and whispered in a gravelly voice full of love and not enough sleep, “We should go.”

She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to end their treasured trip like this. She knew she could get through to him. He was just scared. She didn’t understand it—he was never scared of a single thing—but somehow she knew that this…The finality of having to commit was too much for him.

Her heart spilled out in a whisper. “You don’t have to marry me.”

He squeezed her shoulder.

“Nothing has to change.” The thinness of her voice sent a shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes against the uneasy feeling growing inside her, reaching out like tentacles gripping her heart and squeezing so hard it morphed her sadness to anger.

What am I doing? What am I offering you?

Herself on a fucking silver platter? No strings attached?

Just like always?

She’d been fine with it until now. What the hell did that say about her?

But now…Now that she had an offer for more, she was thinking about more. Maybe she even wanted more. Now no strings attached wasn’t enough.

She rose to her feet with the sudden realization.

“I was wrong,” she said angrily. “Something has to change. Your brothers changed, Jackson. Logan, a man who sealed his heart off in a concrete cave, changed. Even Heath, who claimed not to have time or desire for a woman, fell head over heels in love and changed. People change.” She stumbled backward. “I’ve changed, Jackson.”

He rose slowly, unfolding his powerful body and pulling back his broad shoulders with grace and dignity that belied any reaction to the statements she’d just made. He stared down at her, the air between them sizzling the way it always had, passionate and relentless. And somehow—God, somehow—he managed to keep his emotions in check. Unlike Laney, who wanted to scream and holler and fight until this whole mess was out on the table.

“Are we ready?” he asked calmly. “We’ve got a long hike down the mountain.”

She stepped in closer. “Oh yeah, I’m ready, all right.”

She could force strength to her voice, and she could snub her nose at him as if she didn’t give a rat’s ass if he wanted to be a prick. But fooling her heart was a whole different ball game—and she didn’t give a damn what that said about her.