Page 51

Jack

I slammed the door to my bedroom shut, taking my anger out on the nearest, blameless thing I could.

I kicked my boots off, allowing them to carelessly flop over the hardwood floor and stomped into the bathroom, bracing against the vanity unit, one hand either side of the ceramic sink.

Frustration surged through me like lightning in a storm.

I wasn’t sure what had caused her anger, her backlash aimed at only me. I wracked my brain, desperately trying to recall what had happened since we’d fawned over familial pictures with my parents. Nothing.

Fuck.

I couldn’t read her mind, I needed her to communicate with me, but the second the words tumbled from her lips, my stomach and heart dropped, the forming lump in my throat expanded until I wasn’t sure if I needed to throw up or cry.

She was upset. But she’d upset me. I wasn’t going to let her see that.

She didn’t deserve to feel worse over my feelings, but she also didn’t deserve the opportunity to fix it at that moment.

She’d hurt me, and I was a strong believer in only apologising when you’re responsible.

As far as I could see, I wasn’t responsible and until she was ready to have a healthy, adult conversation, I wasn’t going to accept any responsibility.

After some deep, grounding breaths, I lifted my head to look in the mirror. Under twenty-four hours ago, I was looking at the man in the mirror with shame. Now I was full of disappointment at Willow for taking her shit out on me.

I’d tried so hard for the last month to be whatever she needed, and yet she was still trying to push me away.

She’d arrived at my house in disbelief that she was worthy of the care I was offering, always bouncing on her feet and expecting rejection I knew I’d never give her.

And even now, after pulling her away from her terrifying reality by bringing her to Scotland, she was still pushing me away.

There was no way I could tell her about my romantic feelings now.

Or at least, not while she was acting like this .

Not-so-deep-down, I knew I’d forgive her and still be here. After everything she’d been through, she needed someone to accept the figurative punches that trauma would surprise her with, and I had always been willing to be that person. I still was.

But I wasn’t willing to let her know that just yet. She’d pushed me too far tonight and I was pissed.

I pulled my olive green knitted jumper over my head, leaving the white shirt underneath when there was a knock at the door. I stepped into the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom, unsure if I’d heard a knock or the standard creak of an old house.

Under the crack, there were two shadows blocking out the light of the hallway. Another dainty knock, as if the lack of response to the first had put them off trying again.

Dumping my jumper on the end of the bed, I moved the door, and the second it flung open, my stomach dropped.

Willow.

Equally devastatingly beautiful as she was broken.

She couldn’t hold my eye contact, so I took the moment to look her over. Her thick, wavy hair twisted into a claw clip at the back of her head, strands framing her face. She wore the same jumper as earlier today, but it was what peeked out from under that that caught my eye.

Where she’d usually be wearing long patterned, pyjama bottoms, she was now wearing navy satin shorts that only just covered the tops of her thighs with a trim of lace.

Her long, olive-tanned legs were bare, a sight – it was only just occurring to me – that I hadn’t seen until now.

I gripped the door a little harder and ground my teeth to hold myself together.

She looked how I felt, and I was ready to fold and pull her into my arms, but she didn’t get to treat me like she had and walk straight back into my heart. She had to earn forgiveness.

It was clear she wasn’t going to be the first to speak, so I cleared my throat.

“Hi,” I grit out. She jumped, like she was expecting silence.

“Hi,” she breathed. Jesus, she sounded distraught.

“Can I help you?”

She took a deep breath, intertwining her fingers and awkwardly bouncing on her toes.

“I, um,” she stuttered. “I can’t find Angus. I don’t think Elle packed him.” I bit my lip, irritation rising.

“So, you knocked on my door because you can’t find Angus. What, you want a hand finding him or am I your last resort?” I was too harsh, I knew I was, especially if her wince was anything to go by, but she needed a push to talk. Her eyes finally caught mine.

“No. It’s fine. I don’t need him.” She paused, unsure what to say or how to say it.

“But?” I pressed.

“ But —” The fiddling of sleeves increased, and she looked down to focus on her hands. “I do need you.” I blinked.

“ Now you need me, when half an hour ago you didn’t? What’s changed?”

“Can I come in?” I glanced her up and down, noting her feet rubbing together as though cold. She was slowly but surely knocking down the wall I’d built.

“Only if you’re going to talk. A healthy, adult conversation about feelings.” She nodded.

I stepped back, allowing a gap for her to enter, before shutting it behind her and moving across the room. The more space between those perfect legs and me, the better. I crossed my arm and waited. “Well?”

“I do need you, Jack. I’ve always needed you.”

“So, what was that about?” I tipped my head to the door.

“I was upset.”

“I need you to speak in longer sentences, Willow. Upset about what?” She took a deep breath in, then out before speaking.

“I’ll sound crazy, so hear me out—”

“I think we’ve had our fill of crazy in the last month, what could be worse?” I quipped, my voice stern. A little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth until she glanced away.

“I overheard your conversation with your mum.” I recalled the conversation, trying to put together the puzzle. Willow found the piece I needed. “You told her we were nothing. Just friends.” My eyes widened and stomach dropped.

“And?” I had to know what that meant to her before I reacted. I closed the gap slowly, like she was a nervous animal.

“And that hurt. It really hurt.” When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Am I the only one who’s felt something between us?”

Holy shit. This was it. I bit my lip to keep myself from bursting. She took my further silence as rejection, hurt veiled her features.

“Good to know. I’ll see you in the morning, Jack. Sorry to make things awkward.”

She turned and opened the door.

Absolutely-fucking-not.