Without waiting for an answer, she rushed on. “I was worried about Hunter, but I’ve been worrying more about you.”
“What the fuck, Jamie?” The words burst from me before I could stop them.
She flinched, chin trembling.
Shit. I gentled my voice. “Why are you worrying about me? I should be the last person on your list right now.”
“Really? Because you’re practically all I can think about. My father’s dying—he’ll probably die tonight—but I’m focused on you, wondering if you’re going to hate me when I leave.”
There it was. The truth I’d been dreading, thrust into the open like a wound left to fester. It hurt worse acknowledged. So much fucking worse than I’d expected.
There really was no more pretending now.
This was Jamie being honest, dropping the walls just like we’d promised. And it was my heart getting crushed, my soul shattering as she told me this was the end.
“It’s impossible for me to hate you, beautiful girl.”
“Don’t say that.” She shook her head. “Nothing’s impossible. You can’t stop bad things from happening. Hating me is the only logical outcome. You don’t even know me. Not really.”
“I know enough.”
Her hands balled into fists, one clutching her phone like she might crush it.
“Do we need to make another deal?” Mock irritation colored my voice.
She sighed in defeat. “What this time?”
“We’ve stepped into total honesty territory here. Let’s stop pretending this doesn’t matter. Stop acting like what’s between us is some fake arrangement with the benefit of sex.” I moved closer, claiming her space. “You agreed to let me into your club, but I want a ranking membership. I want the title to be real.”
Too quiet. She was being too damn quiet, and doubt started clawing at my chest.
“You really want that?” Her whisper was barely audible, hands drifting toward her heart.
“Hell yes.” The words came out rough, possessive. “Jamie, I know it’s complicated—how we met, everything feeling so uncertain. I know you’re not sure where you’re headed or what comes next. You might be uncertain about me, but I have no doubts about you.”
“I’m not uncertain about you, Eric. It’s me I’m not sure of. I don’t know if I can handle more than what we’ve been doing.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not really a good person. I’ve done horrible things to get where I am. You don’t know the half of it, and I don’t think you’d like me if you did.”
“Have you killed someone?”
Her face scrunched in confusion.
“Been an accomplice to murder?”
Again, that puzzled expression told me everything I needed to know.
“Jamie, I don’t give a shit about your past. Especially since I know you did what you had to do. For yourself, and your kid. Those things don’t define you.”
I hooked a finger under her chin, urging her gaze up to meet mine. “Whatever you did before, you’re a good person now. I’ve seen it. I know it. And I doubt anything you’ve done is half as bad as you think.”
Tears tracked down her cheeks as conviction replaced confusion. “I stole things. Lots of things. More than just my dad’s car. I’ve lied constantly—to get my job, to keep my job, to myself practically every day.”
“Lying and stealing to put food on the table aren’t the worst things I can imagine.”
“What about blackmail?” The words came out like a challenge, daring me to find fault. “Dylan’s mom was having an affair. I threatened to expose her unless she paid me. What do you think about that?”
“I think if she had anything to do with Dylan’s initial reaction to your pregnancy, she probably deserved it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Her voice pitched higher. “How can you brush that aside? Blackmailing someone is ruthless and vindictive. Good people don’t do that, no matter how desperate.”
