“That’s not stupid,” he says. “He’s your parent. Of course you want better from him.”
My first instinct is to wrestle my hand away, but there’s something about the warmth and weight of it that feels…nice. So I allow it to continue, even while being so unsure what the hell it means.
“But he won’t,” I say, my voice sounding all wrong. “I know I won’t be getting anything better from him. I know that. I just haven’t been able to take that step of completely cutting him off yet.”
“You will when you’re ready,” Jack says. “You’re too strong to let him beat you down forever.”
I want to ask how he could possibly know that, how he could determine that I’mstrongwhen he knows so little of me—but is that really true? I’ve known Jack for months and months now, and even while I’ve been doing my best to keep him at arm’s length, it’s clear that he hasn’t been doing the same. In fact, it seems like Jack has done nothingbuttry to get to know me, despite my best efforts.
I thought I had to keep him away because of who he is, because I thought he was just a friendlier version of my dad, just another womanizer, but now…
Now I’m not so sure that’s true.
“Thank you,” I manage quietly.
Jack squeezes my hand before he finally lets go. “It’s nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. Not to me.
I sneak one last glance at Jack, watching the lights from the street outside illuminate his face, making the angles and planes of it all the more enticing, and I realize all at once that I mightactuallybe attracted to flirty, not-so-flighty Jack Baker.
And I have no idea what to do with that.
We’re both quiet on thewalk up to the apartment, no doubt both mulling over all the embarrassing conversations we keep seeming to have lately. I still don’t know why I told Jack everything I did back there in his car, but truthfully I feel…better. Telling him.
I know I’ve talked about it with Christine, but there’s something about talking about it with someone who has no real investment in the matter and hearing them validate you that makes you feel better about a situation. I know Jack didn’t have to say all thatstuff he said—he could have easily just brushed me off or given me the popular answer ofjust block him—but instead he placed faith in me to do those things on my own. When I’mready.
I don’t know why that matters so much.
I don’t know why it matters so much thathesaid it.
I fiddle with my keys at the door, looking for the one that opens it, taken by surprise a little when Jack’s voice is suddenly right there in my ear, his head peeking over my shoulder.
“You’re using the key chain,” he notes.
I feel my neck flush, turning my keys over in my hand to show off the ugly little armadillo. “I mean, it was a gift.”
“A terrible one,” Jack laughs.
My cheeks are on fire now, because I’m wondering if it’s stupid that I put it on my key chain. Maybe he never meant for me to use it. Maybe it’s silly that I did.
“I can’t remember the last time someone got me a present,” I admit, my voice barely above a murmur. “Felt wrong not to use it.”
I can feel Jack’s eyes on the side of my face, and there’s no way he can’t see the way I’m blushing.
“It really is so ugly,” Jack says with a soft chuckle.
I let it lay face up on my palm, rubbing my thumb across it. “It is.”
“Not like you,” he murmurs.
My eyes snap up to meet his, my mouth parted in surprise. “What?”
“Shit.” He takes a step back. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“What did you mean?”
“Just that…” He rubs at his neck, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “You’re kind of beautiful, Abby.”
