Page 90 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

“Come inside,” Embry grumbles, motioning to the small dining room where Bianca and I sat for the first time. It feels like a lifetime ago.

After hanging the plastic bag on the banister, I turn to find Embry’s curious stare.

“What’s that?” he demands.

“Nothing.” The floor creaks from my weight as I pull out a chair that was tucked beneath the dining table and sit down on the edge of it. Then I stare at the top of the staircase, silently begging for Bianca to appear.

A few minutes later, her light footsteps echo from the second floor before she comes into view. Her spine is straight, and her eyes are swollen and puffy, but it’s the birthmark that does me in. Like a white flag waving through the air, confirming Melissa’s hypothesis that my girl is tired of fighting. But she’s not the only one surrendering. I am too. My fingers itch to reach out and cup her cheek, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but I restrain myself.

“It’s okay, Wallace,” Bianca murmurs to him when her toes touch the main floor. “I can take it from here.”

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” he reminds her.

Then he’s gone.

Her bare feet scuff against the wood floors as she inches closer, making my heart drop into my stomach when she chooses the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers.

“Neither should you.”

“I’m just trying––”

“I know what you're trying to do, Bianca.” I sigh. “Trust me.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I know,” I repeat. “And while it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I can’t let you.”

A spark lights in her eyes, giving me a glimpse of the Bianca I’ve fallen in love with before I broke her. “That’s not your decision to make,” she spits.

“So you’ve said.” My mouth quirks up with pride. “I went back to our place. It’s empty.”

“It isn’t empty,” she argues. “I swear I only took the things that belonged to me. That place should still be fully furnished––”

“I didn’t mean literally,” I laugh as I take in the concerned ‘v’ that’s formed between her eyebrows.

“Then what did you mean?” she asks, unamused that I’d find any of this laughable.

“You’re not in it.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Very funny, Jacky Boy.”

I grin. “I’ve missed you calling me that.”

Then the spark fizzles out, and her chin drops to her chest as she wrings her hands in her lap and whispers, “Why are you here?”

“Because I realized something last night while I was driving aimlessly.”

Her lips stay tightly closed, but I can see the curiosity shining in her gaze.

“I realized that I love you.” I clear my throat. “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. It’ll gut me, Bianca. You’ve sacrificed yourself your entire life. For your mom. Your brother. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me too.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not your decision.”

“Still as stubborn as ever, I see.” Digging through the front pockets of my jeans, I set a black velvet box on the table, then push it toward her.

She eyes the thing like it’s a snake but doesn’t reach for it. “I could say the same about you.”