Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(63)

“You’re not hiding anymore, are you? You’re here because you want to be. I want you around. No more surprise visitors, I promise.”

I huff. “Jem, you are who you are. It’s all good.”

“No, it isn’t if you’re leaving. I said I don’t want you to go.”

“Why? Why do you want me around?”

Jem looks past me, the way he always does if I touch on things he doesn’t want to talk about. Fine. I bend to pick up my bag and Jem snaps his attention back to me.

“Because everything’s better with you here. I’m used to you being with me now.” He closes his hand over mine. “In my space, in my bed. Everything.”

“Used to me? That’s not the most romantic…” Oh, crap.

Jem’s eyes widen. “Romantic? You want romance?”

“No, I don’t believe in romantic love. You know that.”

“Hearts and flowers and teddy bears on cards are bullshit anyway. Stomach churning, breathlessness, and aching are closer to the truth,” he says.

“Pain?”

“Yeah, love is painful.”

“Then you’re doing it wrong.”

“I don’t do it at all. I don’t love.”

“No, of course. And neither do I.”

Touching on a subject we’ve never discussed is weird enough but the tension in the air between is stranger. In the small space, there’s barely room for the two of us to stand and not touch, and I’m scared if I try to leave, he’ll stop me. My legs wouldn’t work anyway, my stupid self is still waiting for him to hold me in his arms and profess the love he’s denying.

Jem takes my face in both hands and searches my eyes, the way he does when I’m sure he’s trying to read my mind. “So why do I want you as much as I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is caring about you enough? Can we share enough of ourselves, but not so much we lose our grip on who we are?”

“Not all of ourselves?” I ask.

“Not everything.”

“Jem, if we don’t give all of ourselves, we can’t commit. And if we can’t commit, there’s nothing to cement this. I think the problem is neither of us wants to have a relationship.”

“Commit.” He wrinkles his nose and drops his hands from my face. “I can commit to you that I won’t touch another woman while you’re in my life. Is that what you want?”

His definition of commitment is what I’d expect of him. Jem can give himself to me physically, but keep an important part hidden.

“What I want from you is something I’m not prepared to give you myself,” I tell him.

“What do you want?”

“Your heart.”

The expression that crosses Jem’s face is wide-eyed shock, he turns away rubbing his neck. The link I felt to him snaps. “Shit, Ruby.”

“That’s the issue here.”

Jem bumps his rear onto the bottom step. The light from the tiny window casts across the hallway, the dust in the sunbeams like stars in the sky. The silence tells me everything I need to know. How could this ever work if we constantly push each other away? I can’t have another relationship where I doubt my worth, where somebody takes but won’t give. Realistically, I shouldn’t get into a relationship at all.

“I didn’t think I had a heart,” he says, quietly. “But you found it and pushed life in. You already took my heart, Ruby.”

My heart stutters at his unexpected words. “I didn’t, Jem. I haven’t tried to make you love me.”

“I never said I love you. I said you’ve taken my heart.” Jem’s mumbling his admission to the floor, not me.

“Explain what you mean.”

He shakes his head and looks up. “I’m a guy. I don’t talk about this shit.”

“Guess what? You’re going to have to or I’m walking out of the door.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“I need you to explain what ‘this’ is. Then at least we both know and we can stop the second-guessing and confusion. Then we can decide what to do. I can decide what to do.”

Jem taps the wooden step next to him, the sound echoing in the small space. He can’t do this, refuses to do what we need to stop our merry-go-round of confusion. One tiny admission is all I’m getting, I guess.

I turn to the door.

“Ruby, I can’t explain what I don’t understand.”

Turning back, I meet his hassled look. “I’ll tell you what you make me feel and then if you recognise any of the symptoms, just let me know.”

“Sure,” he says with a small laugh. “Might help.”

I’ve lain myself open to people before and ended up shredded to pieces, and the longer I leave it before I tell what’s hidden, the harder I’ll fall when I discover I’m alone in my feelings. This time I’ll admit everything and if Jem can’t tell me what I need to hear in return, I can end this before my need for love sees me making shit decisions again.

I cross my arms. “Well, there’s the stomach churning, breathlessness, and chest-aching I have right now which I’m sure isn’t the flu.”