Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [59]
“Oh, yeah, you knew. It apparently didn’t matter to you. Or maybe you realized that leaving me without a word was the perfect way to kill me without actually taking out a gun. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so cruel.”
His tone was vicious, but there was as much pain as anger in his words. Her eyes began to water, and she felt as if she were on the verge of crying again, but she couldn’t cry, because Jake would think she was pretending, trying to get his sympathy, when in fact she felt like crying because of what she’d done to him.
He was right. It was unbelievably cruel to replay his mother’s departure. She had hurt him so badly, this man she had supposedly loved enough to live with and have a child with. How could she have done such a thing? She didn’t feel inside like the tough, cold bitch he described. Yet how could she deny the facts?
“I think I hate myself as much as you hate me,” she murmured.
“That’s impossible.” Jake’s face was grim, his mouth taut, the pulse in his neck beating hard and fast. He jumped to his feet so fast the chair toppled over backward. “We’re done with this conversation. Whatever we had is gone. I want it to stay that way.”
It was his last, belated statement that made her realize how conflicted he was about her. She was almost afraid to ask, but somehow the words came out. “Do you mean it’s not completely gone?”
“Well, it is for you, isn’t it?” he countered.
“Maybe it’s not. Maybe when I remember who I am, I’ll remember that I’m still in love with you.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I did love you, Sarah,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I thought you were the perfect woman, only you turned out to be a figment of my imagination.”
“What we had together was real,” she argued.
“No, it wasn’t. Everything you said was a lie.”
“Not everything. I’m a real person, even if my name keeps changing. What I like to eat is the same.”
“So Sarah Tucker and Samantha Blake and God knows who else like Mongolian beef and chicken fried rice. Who cares?” he snapped.
“I do, because maybe who I am down deep is the same, too.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I feel a lot softer than the person you describe. I feel as if I’ve been hurt, too, like the pain is really big, and if I let it out, it will be too much.”
“Do you want me to feel sorry for you?”
“No, I want you to understand.”
“Understand what? At the moment neither of us knows the truth about you. You can’t explain your actions, and I can’t understand. That’s where we are, Sarah. You have to find a way to get through the block in your head. If it’s fear and pain, you have to battle through it.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Yes, you do. I watched you climb three hundred and seventy-two stairs with shaky, exhausted legs and a determined spirit. You know how to make it to the top. You’re not a quitter.”
“I’m afraid,” she murmured. “I’m scared of finding out that I left you as cruelly as you said I did, that something terrible is happening to my daughter while I’m locked up in this lost world in my head. I’m terrified that whoever is trying to kill me will succeed if I don’t remember him before he finds me again.” She began to tremble and shake, and she couldn’t seem to stop. She was so cold. She felt so lost. And maybe she hadn’t felt like quitting before, but she did now. The mountain facing her, filled with doubts and lies, seemed insurmountable.
After a moment Jake came over to her, hauled her to her feet and into his embrace, pressing her head against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She inhaled the scent of him and her body began to warm. As the long, silent minutes passed, she leaned on him, absorbed his strength, and for the first time since she’d woken up in the hospital she felt safe.
At some point their embrace changed. She became acutely aware of Jake’s heart beating against her chest, the points where their bodies touched, the way their hips fit together, their legs entwined. Jake stroked her back, creating a line of fire that ran down her spine.
His