Chapter 34 Bare Confessions
JADE
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I HEAR FOOTSTEPS behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who they belong to.
I draw my knees closer, hugging them tightly as I stare at the darkened sky through the trees.
The air is still and cool. A faint chill nips at my skin, but I’m bundled in my favorite sweater, soft, worn, and familiar.
There’s something about the quiet before the world wakes up that always calms the noise in my head.
“You’re up early.” Hart’s voice is a sexy, low, and rough from sleep.
Great. Something else to add to the dream bank I can’t seem to shake from my head.
Especially after last night.
All night, I dreamt of his eyes, burning into me, like he couldn’t look at me enough. Like, really look at me for the first time in years.
I still feel his every touch, every brush, every caress, and every firm grasp.
But it’s so much more than the physical aspect.
He touched me like he’d been waiting his whole life. He held me like he never wanted to let go. I tasted the struggle in his kiss, the war between holding back and giving in. I saw love in him, deep and desperate, and shadowed by scars he tried to hide.
Why now?
Why did he walk away all those years ago?
Why did he spend his whole life making me believe he hated me? Like I was nothing more than just a fleeting moment to him.
I don’t look at him. “The sunrise was calling my name.”
“I get that.”
Of course he does. It’s in his blood, just as it is in mine.
The sky’s already starting to shift. The inky black of night is giving way to muted shades of purple and orange along the horizon.
He sits beside me without asking. His jeans graze the grass as he bends his legs and rests his arms on his knees. He removes his Stetson, running a hand through his hair before letting his arm drape over his knee, resting his hat against his leg.
“Can we talk?”
My eyes close in a low sigh.
Why now? What is this pull between us? This pull I can’t escape, that neither of us seems to be able to escape.
When I open my eyes, the first sliver of sun peeks over the horizon.
“You know, I really thought I was over you.”
It feels good to get it out, even if it bites me in the ass down the road. It can’t be worse than what everybody’s already saying or last night’s display of grinding up against him in a public place.
“At the time, I mean, it hurt when you dipped. Not a word. Not an explanation. Just rumors I was another win on your scoreboard.”
“That’s not what you were.”
“It’s hard to argue that when everyone is saying it, and the main source was you.”
He curses.
“Yeah, well, I got older and I grew to love me, all the parts of me I questioned after you checked out.” I still don’t look at him—can’t. “And I’m pretty fucking amazing.” I pause, but I don’t expect anything from him.
This isn’t for him. It’s for me, my closure.
“I thought that in the process of finding myself, I would out-love you. Then that stupid song came on last night, and you were waiting for me with that look in your eyes. And then you touched me, and I swear, I was that naive girl who thought you cared.”
“I did care. I do care.”
I’m not prepared for him to say the words even if I suspected them. Even if I’m convinced they’re true. No matter how many times I’ve played a version of him caring in my head, to hear him say it, it rocks me.
“You cared until you got into my pants.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it? Because we had sex after your game and you never talked to me again.”
He breathes deep, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes scanning anywhere but me. “It sounds so bad when you say it.”
“It was bad. You broke my eighteen-year-old heart. You tore it to shreds. It wasn’t good, Hart. It was probably the worst thing you could do to a girl you promised your heart to.”
I hate that I still feel it.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jade.” His low voice breaks me, like he can’t even process the words. “I only ever wanted to protect you.”
How many years have passed, and today he searches me with this calm, sweet voice I remember.
The one who did care.
The one that I fell in love with.
“Hell, I didn’t expect to care.” His hand idly taps his hat off his leg. “Back then, when I followed you into the storage room—”
“It’s creepy when you say it, by the way.” Defense seems like my only option, but even as I say it, it feels like the wrong approach.
Something is different.
I feel it.
I think I’ve felt it this entire trip. Maybe even before. Possibly all those phone meetings when I hung up on him abruptly. Or the silent moments between our bickering. The ones I passed off as each of us trying to control another’s insult. Maybe we were trying to prevent these words.
He chuckles. “I know it was creepy, but I was young and stupid.”
“What’s today’s excuse?” Did that come out lacking my usual annoyed flair?
“Stupid.” He grins at me then, and there’s the boy I remember. “I just saw you, a forbidden Fox, and I was curious. So damn curious.”
“Are you talking about now or back then?”
“Both.”
I swallow and turn back to the sun.
My stomach is doing that thing it always does when I think about him—tightening and twisting into knots. But now, he’s right here beside me, opening up, and it’s different.
“I wasn’t curious about you.” It’s my truth. “I wanted you to leave so I could read my book alone.”
He chuckles again. “You said as much.”
“You didn’t listen then either. You met me in the same spot the next day.”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t help it. I was mesmerized.”
I slant my head back to look at him, leaning the side of my head on my knee. “Mesmerized? Me, in my jeans, T-shirt, and ponytail, was not mesmerizing.”
He meets my gaze. “There’s so much more to you than what you wear.”
“That sounds like a backward compliment.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, you look mighty fine in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.” I tap my fingers on my jeans, needing something to keep me composed. “So you were mesmerized by my charm, huh?”
He shakes his head. “You were not charming.”
I laugh by accident. It comes out and shocks me to my core. But it’s true.
“I suppose I’ve never had the gift of charm. I was quiet and boring.”
“I needed that quiet and boring in my life.” He breathes in deep. “Trust me, it’s not quiet, nor boring, with six brothers, a big ranch, and tending cattle all day, every day.”
“You’re right. It’s never quiet or boring when your brothers are around.”
“Now, take the adult out of them, and give them bad judgment.” His head slowly moves up and down. “They were unmanageable back in the day.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I’ve always enjoyed calm and quiet. That’s why I sneak away early in the morning for me time.”
“Are you going to tell me to be quiet?” There’s a glint of flirting in his cedar eyes.
“Are you going to listen?” Am I flirting back?
“Believe it or not, I’ve gained a note of patience.”
“I believe it.” The denim of my pants is rough against my cheek. “I see the ways you’ve changed. You no longer steal the spotlight. You quietly watch from the sidelines.”
He presses his lips together with a short nod. “I reckon, you weren’t the only one with a broken heart.”
“You’re going to blame a broken heart on this grumpy new side of you?” There I am, flirting again.
“Excuse me.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I am not grumpy.”
I laugh. “You’re so grumpy.”
He laughs too.
“How is it that it’s been over ten years, and sitting here with you feels like nothing’s changed and we’re right back to eating licorice and writing the book of our dreams?” A breeze rustles my hair.
“I don’t know, but I miss this.” His stare is intense, and my pulse races. “I miss us.”
The words destroy me. Destroy this moment.
I break eye contact and look straight ahead, taking a deep breath. “What is whatever this is you’re doing?”
He stretches his arms in front of him, setting his hat on his lap. “I don’t know.”
“Right. That about sums us up.” I go to stand, and he places his hand on my arm.
His touch is light, but the sensation is heavy. My pulse picks up, and I try to ignore the way my skin tingles.
“If I could go back and change how I left things between us, I would,’ he says.
“What does that even mean?”
“I would tell you, it wasn’t your fault.” His hand stays on me, and I feel every beat of my heart in that touch. “I’d clarify that you weren’t a win on my scoreboard. And I’d tell you that you meant so much more to me than that one night.”
I want to tell him he has a funny way of showing it. I want to snap back at each sentence, but I don’t, because more than defending my pain, I want to know the truth.
“What are you saying? You realized I was a better friend than a love interest?”
“No.”
“No?”
It takes a moment for his husky reply. “I don’t know the right answer here.”
“The truth, which seems very hard for you.” I stretch out my legs, breaking the contact between us as I lean back, sinking my palms into the grass.
He mimics my move. “It was so complicated and I was so young.”
“You’re not young anymore, and nothing you can say can be worse than what I’ve played in my head.”
“I loved you, Jade.”
Not what I expected, or did I? After last night, that’s exactly what I saw.
The words hang in the air.
My heart skips a beat, and then stumbles, as I search for something to say. But I fail, because what am I supposed to say?
“I was this stupid young kid who fell head over heels for this girl I didn’t realize I could never have.”
It takes me a second. “The feud?” I ask.
“Wasn’t everything about the feud?”
“What a cop out excuse. Unbelievable.” I scoff. “The feud? Of all the excuses you could’ve made up, the feud was at the bottom. Way at the bottom.”
“I’m not making an excuse.”