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Claire
I don’t regret saying it. I probably should, but I don’t. He needs to know what he walked away from. What could’ve been. How things might’ve happened if only he’d given me a chance.
“And Simon?” I watch his jaw tighten. “What about him?”
“I don’t care where Simon came from,” I say, feeling like he just slapped me in the face. “I loved him, and you took him away from me.” The realization tumbles loose, revealing a wound I hadn’t realize I’d suffered, the pain of it something I hadn’t even let myself consider.
That losing Simon hurt me just as much as losing his father.
“I would’ve done whatever you asked, Jaxon.” I shake my head, force myself to look up at him. His clenched jaw. Tight mouth. Narrowed eyes. The way he won’t let himself reach for me. Holds his neck stiff, like every word I’m saying is a slap in the face. He doesn’t believe me. Won’t let himself.
Still, I have to finish it.
I have to say it, even if it destroys me all over again.
“If you’d said, come with me, Claire—I would’ve. If you’d said, wait for me—I would’ve. If you’d told me that what happened between us was something that would never happen again and that I needed to move on, it would’ve killed me, but I would’ve let you go.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He shakes his head. “I—”
“You knew you were going to end up hurting me, either way,” I say, talking over him. “You just didn’t want to see it.”
He doesn’t have answer. Not for that—because it’s true. “I was afraid… I couldn’t stay and I couldn’t ask you for more, not without telling you the truth. I was afraid that if you knew, you wouldn’t want to be with me—that you’d look at me and see…” he swipes a rough hand over his face and shakes his head. “I don’t think I could’ve handled it. Pretty sure I still can’t.”
His admission stops me cold. Makes me sorry for the way I treated him. For the way he sees himself through my eyes. “Then tell me now,” I say, taking a step back. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to do?”
Silence.
Nothing.
He just stares at me, his throat working against things he’ll never make himself vulnerable enough to say, but I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it? Jaxon and I will always be caught somewhere between holding on and letting go.
“You can’t say it, can you?” I shake my head. “You’re still afraid. I’m standing here, right in front of you, begging you to let me in, and you still can’t believe…” I catch my breath. Let it out on a sigh. “Okay.” I turn around, picking my purse up off the table. I’m crying now, my shoulders trembling with the effort to hold it all in. “Goodbye, Jaxon.”
I leave. Through the kitchen doorway and down the hall, the way I’d come, on legs so numb I feel like I’m floating.
Reaching for the front door, my arm hanging in front of me like a ghost, I pull it open. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know how I’m going to get there, but I’m the one who’s leaving this time. I’m not going to be left behind again.
From the corner of my eye, I see a large hand shoot past me to slap against the door, snapping it closed in front of my face, the bulk of him looming over me.
“Stay.”
He says it softly, the breath of it falling across my bare shoulder, his free hand sliding along in its wake, brushing my hair over it to move down my back. “That’s what I want.” I feel his lips against the back of my neck, a soft, languid press that leaves me reeling. “I want you to stay.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat as his hand slides into my hair. His fingers tightening, he turns myhead, angling up, my chin tipped over my shoulder. “Will you...” He skims his lips across my wet cheeks, his hand falling away from the door to turn me toward him. His mouth hovers over mine, his gaze locked on my face. “Will you stay with me? With us?”
I nod, pulling his face to mine with a smile as I whisper the word I’ve been waiting five years to say to him.
“Yes.”