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“I’m not leaving,” I whisper with a shaky breath, although even I can tell it’s a lie. My words are just as weak as I am when it comes to him. The corner of his lips twitch as if he wants to smile and pretend I’m telling the truth, but he doesn’t.
“I’m the same man you fell in love with.” The steel gray gaze softens, begging me to understand and believe him, but I can’t. The tension is thick between us, but how can he expect me to simply forget? When I look at him, I see it all play out, over and over again.
I refuse to believe I ever knew this man, but the very thought splits my heart down the center.
I could never love a murderer. I could never be with the person who killed Jace. Pain lances through my chest, and I have to look away. As much as I wish I could turn it off and stop lovinghim entirely, I know that’s not a possibility either. A piece of my heart is his forever, but that only makes me hate him more.
A question begs to be asked. One I’ve thought every night since he confessed. “You knew when you saw me that first night?” I ask him with a raw voice. That’s what I simply can’t wrap my head around. He knew who I was. He knew how much he’d hurt me and ruined me. Yet it didn’t stop him.
“Knew what?” he asks, sitting easily across from me and I look him in the eyes to confront him as I say, “You knew who I was? Jace’s widow.”
He nods once.
“How could you?” I ask as my blood races and whatever took over a moment ago vanishes. It’s yet again another betrayal. “Was I a prize to you? A reward for getting away with it?” I say out of spite.
His expression changes to one I’m growing familiar with. To distaste and anger. Apparently we both feel it. “Don’t you dare.” His nostrils flare as he adds, “Don’t you dare do that to us. To what we have.”
“Had,” I say and my throat hurts as the word leaves my lips. I don’t see how I could ever forgive him or how he can expect that I would. He may be the only thing keeping me alive and standing in the way of his father silencing me, but he’ll forever be my husband’s murderer. A liar, a sinner, and ultimately someone who used me.
“You were only Jules to me. Only a woman who was hurt and broken.” His words hang in the air between us and my conviction sways. Mason hesitates then adds, “I knew your pain was because of what I’d done. I knew it was my fault, and I wanted to make it better.”
My lips part with disbelief. “Make it better?”
“I don’t know what to say, Jules.” He lets his hands fall to the bed beside me, his fingers resting against my thigh. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“There’s nothing to say.” I’m certain of that at least. I stare at the comforter and avoid the hurt look in his eyes. He has no right to be saddened or angered. He has no right to expect anything from me. He’s the one who put all of this into motion. He could have stopped it.
“There is more to say. And in time you’ll want to know more.”
My shoulders rise with a heavy breath. I know it’s true. I need to know if my husband did have a woman murdered. How could he? Mason must be wrong.
I just can’t imagine it. I can’t believe I was married to a man who would have someone killed. He was living with me, sharing my bed and kissing me every morning. I can’t see it. What’s worse, I don’t want to see it. Just like I didn’t want to see the other lies that came out after he died.I didn't know the man I once loved.I look up into Mason’s gray eyes and I don’t know which man that thought was for. Jace or Mason.
I suppose both.
“I just want to go home,” I tell Mason one last time. One last plea.
“No, you’re staying here. Don’t try to run, Jules,” he tells me and his voice is so low. He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “I would kill for you. I’d die for you. I love you.”
His words send a chill through me, not because of the intensity, but because I feel with everything in me that each word is utterly and completely true.
MASON
Ican’t fucking stand this. Every time she passes me, every time I look at her there’s a look in her eyes that warns me to stay away. To not touch her, to not approach her, to not say a damn word to her.
I’m the same man I was when I slipped that ring around her finger. The one that lays in the drawer of my nightstand now. The one I picked up off the floor when she left me. I figured it’d be better to hide it from her than give it back and risk her flushing it.
With the ring between two of my fingers, I twist it back and forth, the cushion-cut diamond moving from side to side with moonlight glinting off it as it pours in through the gap in the curtains. I turn my gaze to the window, knowing just beyond the thick velvet fabric is a ripped screen that still needs to be replaced.
This bedroom has become a cage. A prison of her own making. I’ve given her time. I’ve been gentle, given her space, but it’s only pissing me off when she glares at me. She’s a stubborn woman and I understand her needs, but it feels like I’m slowly snapping, not bending.
It’s time for a change. I don’t know how long it takes to mourn or forgive, but I also don’t give a fuck. There’s too much on my mind for me to be worried about where we are with each other. I need her. More importantly, I need to know she won’t run so I can keep her safe.
I can’t have anyone else questioning it either. They need to be very aware that we’re still in love. Every. Single. Person.
With a particular person in mind, I glance at the phone on my nightstand. My father isn’t answering my calls.
I’m tempted to go to his office to make sure he backs off, but that means either leaving Jules alone or taking her with me. Between those two options of course I’d be bringing her along, but I don’t want him anywhere near her. Just walking into the station, knowing he was with her, toying with her, and hearing him threaten her was almost too much for me. I take in a heavy breath, staring at the diamond to calm myself again.