Chapter 57

His words, said so quietly, echoed off the high walls. I stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me."

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "You can't mean it."

"Why not?"

"Aside from you telling me to leave?"

He didn't answer.

"Okay." I pushed a hand through my hair. "How about the fact I've been here for less than two days?"

"You're forgetting," he said, "I've known you for years."

And for too many of those years, I had longed for him. I'd adored him. And yes, maybe I had even loved him in my own childish way. But all this time, he had never shown the slightest bit of interest.

"But you never even noticed me," I said. "Even when I wasn't a kid anymore."

His was voice just above a whisper. "I noticed."

"So what was the problem?" I asked. "Was it because I was underage?" I summoned up a hollow laugh. "You know, jailbait?"

"Jail never scared me."

"So what was it?" I said.

"For one thing," he said, "I was twenty-some years old. You were in high school." He glanced away. "I've always been an asshole, but even I have my limits."

"But I'd have been eighteen in a few months," I pointed out.

"Yeah? And on your eighteenth birthday, wanna guess where I was?"

"Where?"

"In jail."

"For what?" I asked.

"The usual stuff, some fight at the house. The point is, it wasn't just the numbers. Not then. And not now. The other night, you asked me a question. Remember what it was?"

I had asked too many questions to count, not that I'd gotten any answers. "You'll need to narrow it down more than that," I told him.

A single word fell from his lips. "Debbie."

Oh yeah. Her. The girl Bishop had mentioned. "Forget it," I said, suddenly fearful of what he might say. "I don't need to know."

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "Debbie? She was my dad's–" He gave a hard laugh. "—I guess you'd call her his girlfriend."

My stomach clenched. "So it's true. You—"

"No. Not quite."

Not quite? What did that mean? "But somehow, she ended up naked in your bed?"

"Not 'somehow,'" Jake said. "I invited her."

My heart sank. "So you really liked her?"

"Hell no," he said. "I fucking hated her. She was a drunk, a cheater. She used to hassle the shit out of my brothers, especially the youngest."

"But if that's true," I said, "why would you proposition her?"

"Because I wanted her gone."

I stared at him. "I don't understand."

"She was bad news," Jake said. "And we had plenty of that on our own. And Debbie? She used to goad the shit out of my dad. She'd get him all worked up." Jake glanced away. "All liquored up too. And this one night, they start hassling the piss out of Joel."

"The youngest, right?"

"Yeah." He was a tough kid, but there was something about it that just wasn't right."

"With Debbie?" I asked.

"Shit, with everything," Jake said. "So I’m thinking, 'What's the best way to get rid of this skank?' And I think, 'I know. I'll fuckin' sleep with her. Make sure my dad catches us too.'"

"Wow," I breathed, "that is so messed up."

He made a scoffing sound. "You think?"

"So what happened?" I asked.

"So, I talk Debbie into paying me a visit. Not that it took a whole lot of convincing."

That, I could definitely believe.

"So anyway," Jake said, "Long story short, my dad walks in, and Debbie's laying there on the bed. She's drunk off her ass and naked as hell. And my dad's going nuts. And Debbie starts blubbering that nothing happened. She says she just fell into the wrong bed, all kinds of bullshit. And my dad, he doesn't believe her, especially when I say, 'Yeah. I fucked her. And it was like screwing sandpaper."

As awful as it was, I stifled a laugh. "You didn't."

"I did."

"So what happened then?" I asked.

"So my dad? He does the usual thing, tries to kick my ass. And Debbie? She's clawing the shit out of my back. A couple of my brothers jump into the mix. Remember Joel? He ends up with twenty stitches and a broken arm."

"Oh jeez," I said. "I always wondered how that happened."

"Now you know," Jake said. "I did him some favor, huh?"

"Hey, your intentions were good." I pushed myself off the sofa and reached for his hand. "Jake, you are not the villain of this story."

"In this story?" he said. "There's nothing but villains."

"Oh come on, you're no villain," I said. "You did it for love. For your family, I mean. And honestly, it wasn't that bad. I mean, you didn't actually sleep with her, right?"

"Hell no," Jake said. "She was trash. Probably had a dozen social diseases."

"But they all think you did? Still?"

"Sure," Jake said. "I never denied it. Probably never will."

"Why not?" I asked.

Jake gave a humorless smile. "My dad? Like I said, he liked to beat on us. I was the oldest, so no problem for me. I could take it just fine. But after I 'fucked' his girlfriend?" At this, Jake actually grinned. "It kept him good and pissed at me for a year. Left him no time for my brothers."

"Oh my God," I breathed. "That's so awful."

"Yeah, a giant clusterfuck, huh?"

"No. Not you," I said. "The situation."

"Right."

He met my gaze, and his voice grew ragged. "So when I tell you I love you, that doesn't mean it's a good thing. Don't you get it? Even when I try to do the right thing, it turns out wrong." He gave a hollow laugh. "And most of the time, I don't even try."

"That's not true," I said.

"Yes. It is. And that's why, when all this is over, you need to move on."

I studied his face. His words said one thing, but his face said another. I couldn't let it go. And not only for my sake. "Oh come on," I said. "The Debbie thing was years ago. Ancient history."

"It's not about Debbie," he said. "For every story like that, I've got a million more." He leaned over me, and I felt the promise of a kiss. "I meant what I said. I do love you. I've loved you for years. But I hope to God that you never love me back."

"But why?"

"Because I ruin everything I touch. And I don't wanna ruin you."

"Jake," I said, "look at this place. You're successful. You're famous. Girls literally throw themselves at you. I don't think you're seeing yourself clearly. You haven't ruined anything. You've built something to be proud of. Why can't you see that?"

"I see it." He looked around. "This stuff, the money, yeah, it's sweet as shit. I'm not gonna deny it. But you know what you don't see?"

"What?"

"Behind all this, there's a long string of people who hate my fucking guts. And you what?"

"What?"

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Hell no," he said. "I piss off people every day, and have a shitload of fun doing it."

"But what does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

He shoved a hand through his hair. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know."

My head was reeling from the whiplash of emotions swirling around the room. He claimed to love me, but he wanted me to leave. He had to be lying, whether to himself, or to me, because both things couldn’t be true at the same time.

Could they?

As if reading my confusion, he moved forward and reached out for me. There was something so lost about him that I couldn’t stop myself from falling into his arms. To comfort him? Or to comfort me? Probably both.

Melted against him, I spoke against his chest. "Jake?"

"Yeah."

"That thing you said, that you, uh, love me?"

"Yeah?"

"Just how many girls have you said that to?"

"Including you?" he asked.

Against him, I nodded.

His answer was a long time in coming. But when it did, it took my breath away. "One."

I pulled away to meet his gaze.

The script called for me to say I loved him too. Did I? I had idolized him forever. I had spent countless nights lusting after him. And now, I wanted to wash away his torments and somehow make him whole and happy.

Was that love? It sure as hell felt like it. But I refused to say it – not for fear of embarrassment, and not because he didn't want me to love him. It was because if I admitted to such a thing, even to myself, I'd never be able to leave, whether he wanted me to or not.

It was because regardless of those pretty words, I still couldn't believe him. If he truly loved me, he'd never ask me to leave. And if I truly loved him, I wouldn’t be able to leave, whether it was supposedly for my own good or not.

Still unsure of what I might say, I opened my mouth, but before any words came out, Jake lowered his head to seal my lips with a kiss so desperate that it made me forget almost everything else.

I shouldn't have done it. But when he carried me away to his bedroom, I didn't utter a single word of protest. I couldn't have, even if I tried.

Tenderly, we made love that whole afternoon. I knew I shouldn't have. But I couldn't help that either. And I didn't want to help it.

As we lay naked together, I kept expecting him to take everything back, to tell me he never wanted me to leave – or as much as I would have hated to hear it – to tell me he didn't love me at all.

None of that happened.

So I knew what I had to do. The only question was, did I have the will to do it?