Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(24)
“Well, there is a reason you make the choices you do, Miriam. You know there is—you just won’t admit it. I’m telling you the truth as I see it, and I’m not gonna apologize for it, although I will say I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Miriam didn’t know how to respond, so she simply nodded. Jack brushed her hair aside, lowering his face so that he could meet her gaze. He looked so worried that she had to laugh. Damn him and his puppy-dog eyes. “It really wasn’t like that, exactly,” she said eventually. “My dad did love me, just not…not for long enough. I don’t want to talk about that right now, though. I want to have fun.”
“Fair enough.” Jack poured the last of the pitcher into their glasses, letting the subject go. He really did seem to respect her privacy, and that was hard to resist in itself. She wished he didn’t seem to understand her so well. It made her feel vulnerable, and that made her walls come up. She didn’t want walls between her and Jack, but they were there, ingrained from habit, maintained out of the need to protect herself at all costs. Yet…he always seemed to find a way of getting around them.
*
Miriam enjoyed the baseball game, even though she hadn’t expected to. She had only agreed to go because it meant being able to get out of the house and spending time with Jack, not so much caring about the game itself. The fans were energetic and excited, and their ebullience was infectious. She didn’t really know the finer details of the game, but it didn’t matter; that wasn’t as important as the experience itself: swilling overpriced beer from clear plastic cups, eating buttery popcorn, standing to cheer whenever the fans got to their feet.
There was camaraderie in the atmosphere, a kinship shared by everyone in the stadium, and that was a new feeling for Miriam. She clutched Jack’s arm, watching him get excited as the game progressed. He held her hand, sat with his arm around her shoulders, showed her affection, for which she was starved. She felt something burgeoning inside her, a sense of contentment, strong and warm and all-enveloping, threatening to overwhelm her, filling her heart to bursting.
Her instinct, when faced with such strong, positive feelings, was to shut down, to run away: Such things never lasted. Jack would turn on her. There would be a moment of frustration, and he would scream at her, or raise his hand, maybe not actually hitting her, but the threat would be there. She fought the urge to create a situation where it would happen, just to get it out of the way. Once he turned, she could go back to her life as it was—painful and difficult, but familiar. She knew what to expect and how to deal with it. But Jack never responded the way she expected, never treated her in a way she understood. It scared her. The unfamiliar was scary to her, not knowing where things stood or where they were going. That was terrifying.
Jack must have sensed her introspective mood, for he sat down despite the standing, cheering crowd around him. “What’s up, buttercup?” His tone was light, but his eyes conveyed a serious concern.
“Nothing.”
He smirked and rolled his eyes. She should have known better than to think he’d buy that.
He leaned close, his arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then say so. If you want to go, we can go. But don’t feed me the ‘it’s nothing’ B.S. when I can clearly see it’s not nothing.”
She searched his face for signs of frustration or irritation. The crowd around them was going crazy, but Jack seemed to have forgotten the game entirely. “You’ll laugh. You’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous.”
“You probably are being ridiculous, but that’s no reason to discount how you’re feeling.” He finished his beer, tugging her hand to lead her up the steps and out to the concourse. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but distant. Groups of people came and went through the concourse, buying snacks and beer, balancing cups and bags, laughing and talking, all of them oblivious to Miriam and Jack. She watched the people come and go, trying to sort out what she was feeling and how to communicate it.
“I’m not used to having a good time, I guess. I mean, I’ve had fun. It’s not like I live every day moping around and hating my life. And it’s not like Ben is always horrible all the time, either. He can be charming—it’s just getting less and less frequent these days. He’s changing. The good times used to outweigh the bad, which is why I’ve stayed with him for so long. But recently he’s been drinking more, and that always leads to things getting bad.” She looked down. “Listen to me, dragging on about Ben. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to hear about. I’m sorry.”
Jack shook his head, squeezed her hand. “No, please, keep going. This is important to you. It’s part of you. Do I like hearing about Ben? No, of course not. I wish I could just…snap my fingers and make him go away, so I can have you all to myself. But listen, you have to make your own decisions for yourself. I’m not just assuming you’ll dump Ben and be with me. Obviously, I’m hoping you will, but even that is complicated. I want you to leave him for you, not just because I want to be with you.”
Well, there was transparency for you. Miriam pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the hooks of affection and desire dig deeper into her heart. “I don’t know what to do, Jack. I honestly don’t. You’re so…I don’t know…so much more than I know how to deal with. I never know what to expect with you. You never act like any guy I’ve ever known, and it’s confusing.”