Naked Love(72)

This time I don’t hide from him. My teary gaze stays on his contorted face.

“I’m sorry. I said too much. Swarley was a good dog too.”

If I lie, we will never be real. And I don’t want the lies. I want love. Real. Honest. Soul-consuming. Naked love.

“His mom had cancer. Cancer.” I shake my head and back away.

Jake’s brows pull together as he cocks his head. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“He had to move away to take care of his mother. He told me not to wait. He said sometimes life just happens.”

“Ave … I’m not following. Who said that?”

The tears won’t stop, but I don’t look away. God … maybe he’ll see how blindsided I was by this. He’ll see the truth.

“Ranger was a stray dog he found at the park. Ranger lived with Steve’s mom most of the time. A therapy dog.” I continue to shake my head as I repeat the lies I was told. “He wasn’t married. He had never been married.”

Realization softens Jake’s brow as disbelief—shock—ghosts along his face, dulling the life in his eyes.

Home-wrecking whore.

“Avery …” His tone loses all kindness, all the love. It’s cold. The kind of cold that feels like a knife against my skin.

“He said he loved me. He said one day he wanted to marry me.” I continue to shake my head, pressing my hand against my chest.

“He wanted in your fucking pants! That’s why he said that to you!”

I choke on a sob as I gasp at his words.

Jake clenches his teeth, a hint of regret flashes in his eyes, but it fades in seconds, squashed by his anger.

“I’m not a whore.” I shove as much confidence as I can into that statement.

Jake grunts. “Tell that to Megan.”

Megan. Megan who lost her baby and her dog. Megan who was cheated on by her lying husband. Megan who tried to save Swarley. Megan who welcomed us into her home. Megan—Jake’s friend.

“You.” He shakes his head like he can wake himself up, like it’s not real. “You. Jesus … it was you? This can’t be happening.” He continues to shake his head. “He told her the other woman—you—meant nothing. Do you like that, Ave? Have you just never cared whether or not you truly mean something to a man? As long as they buy you things, then you carelessly turn a blind eye to minor details like wives? Do you know what that makes you?”

“Is everything okay?” Sydney peeks into the room, her dark, wet hair tied back into a ponytail.

She eyes me with concern. Then she shoots Jake a questioning look, but he keeps his back to her.

I wipe away my tears, no longer able to tolerate the disdain on Jake’s face. “It’s fine. Are you ready?”

Sydney nods slowly, concern still marring her face.

“Give me five minutes to get dressed.” I bend down and riffle through my bag for clothes.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Sydney says.

“Okay.” I keep my head down, my complete devastation hidden from my grieving sister and the man who clearly hates me. The man who wanted me dead when I was an unknown whore to him.

This defensive little voice in my head wants to jump out and spew off all the reasons Jake has no right to be upset with me. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know. Steve lied and he was good at it. I didn’t ruin Megan’s marriage. Steve did. But I can’t say any of these words because Swarley died, and Megan doesn’t need her past dug up and hashed out all over again.

“This isn’t the time or place to discuss this.” I stand, braving a glance up at Jake.

His shoulders are slumped, his jaw still cemented into a disapproving scowl. He looks angry and disappointed and … hurt. He shakes his head. “There’s nothing to discuss. I think you filled in the missing pieces.”

I step into my shorts and slip off Jake’s shirt. He turns away from me.

This … this hurts. Last night I was the woman he loved. This morning I’m the whore not worthy of his eyes on my bared flesh. I turn my back to him too as I put on my bra.

Tears burn.

Pride suffocates.

Hearts break.

Words fail.

And I … well, I focus on Sydney and her family who will be devastated when we bring Swarley home in a body bag. As for Jake, I regret nothing. He taught me a lot about myself.

Attagirl, Ave.

Stand the fuck up for yourself.

Show me whatcha got.

He tore me down and made me put myself back together. I’m so much stronger than I was when I left L.A. But this is still going to destroy my heart—a heart that’s been jerked around, kicked, punched, and dismissed so many times, I’m not sure it even remembers how to beat.

I close my bag and hike my purse onto my shoulder. Jake turns. My entire body tingles with pain. He reaches for my bag, but I pull it just out of his reach.

“Don’t …” My throat constricts, strangling my words. Maybe it’s my body’s way of saving face, if that’s even still possible. Maybe we’ve come full circle. He hated me when we left Milwaukee. I’ve gone from a bitch to a whore.

Funny, I just wanted to be the smile on his face. The object of his affection. I wanted to be the part of his life that felt utterly undefinable yet completely impossible to live without.