I winced but said nothing.
“We have to buy a new phone.”
“I don’t have?—”
“I’m buying.”
“No, I can’t let you?—”
“Stop.” He squeezed my palm and looked into my eyes. Our gazes tangled. His was so serious. “You’re getting a new phonetoday.”
I sighed. Couldn’t respond. How could I refuse help I so desperately needed?
“Miranda,” Jack spoke slowly, like he’d been rehearsing and was afraid he might miss a line. “You wouldn’t have to worry about him in Nashville. You’d be safe.”
“I know. I was thinking about it all night long.”
My finger throbbed. And my head, come to think of it.
“Did you decide what you want to do?”
As if on cue, my phone started buzzing again. This time I picked it up and read a few of the texts on the home screen. Full of threats. Full of obscenities. Full of insults that made me wish someone would bury me alive.
A deep sigh pushed against the pressure forming in my throat. How did I allow myself to grow so desperate?
“Marriage is the best option I have on the table right now. But I don’t want you to destroy your own life in order to fix mine.”
He secured a bandaid around my thumb. “Trust me. One and a half million dollars won’t destroy my life.”
A tiny laugh escaped. The money was the one silver lining for both of us. How pathetic.
My awareness melted to Jack’s lap, fully honing on the warmth of his hands around mine. My finger was long bandaged, but he still cradled my hand and wrist. A gentle movement—almost imperceptible in its tenderness—tickled the back of my knuckles. My heart was off to the races.
His voice was low, a gentle pleading. “I want you to be okay. Kacey, too.”
“I”—I swallowed, silently cursing the conflict in my heart—“I know you do.”
Why did Jackaffect me this way?
I should pull my hand away.
“I need to go home tomorrow.”
“I know.”
The tiny pleasure I was experiencing was not lost on me. Jack’s big hands around my own were the best thing I’d felt in a long time. Our little arrangement would be for money and nothing more. There wouldn’t be second chances. Therecouldn’tbe. We used to have love for each other, true. But we had lacked all the important things that make a marriage work.
And Jack? He left me. Alone. Many times. I’d be an idiot to give him my heart again.
But as a moment of silence stretched between us, Jack’s attention flicked to my lips. My heart jumped. Hell-bent on stupidity, I reciprocated the action, checking outhislips. They were perfect. His lightly stubbled cheeks and jaw tapered into his chin. A whisper of smile brackets remained on his serious expression. His lips were sloped along the sides into a mild cupid’s arrow, pink and full. And I knew from experience how skilled they were.
My cheeks grew warm again, and I tore my gaze away before he noticed.
Suddenly, I realized we’d been here before. Sitting in an attic, a decision looming before us. Dusty from boxes and so filled with desire for each other that the tension was electric, palpable, vibrating between us. How on earth were we here again? And better yet—why was I thinking of pressing him into theplywood floor right now?
The brief moment ended as fast as it began. Jack gently squeezed, jerking me back to the present. “What do you say then?”
What other options did I have?
