Chapter Eight
Jackie
Mitch Craigton was here. At the Mexican Jewel. He was here, right where she was, and her mind short-circuited whenever she tried to wrap it around that simple fact.
Jackie paced the room, tugging and pulling at her hair in frustration. The overwhelming ache spread through her insides like some kind of mutated virus, ravaging everything in its wake.
It had been ten years since she’d snuck out of his bedroom, leaving a short handwritten note on her pillow as the only goodbye.
She groaned, pushing her back against the wall.
The air conditioning had switched on as soon as she had entered the room, and cool air raised the hairs on her bare forearms; the soft hum of the unit reminded her she wasn’t dreaming.
Closing her watery eyes, she slid down and sat cross-legged on the wooden floor.
For ten years, she had traveled the world, admired the views, enjoyed meaningless connections with people who she knew wouldn’t give a damn about her when she left.
And she always left—that was the one constant.
Whether after weeks or a few months, she moved on.
Staying too long in one place created bonds, and she had been running away from those ever since she had left the one guy she never forgot.
Jackie had been naively hoping that the pain and bone-deep regret would eventually go away.
Instead, they latched on to her heart and soul, like parasites feeding off every memory, every time she thought about her life before.
Because that was how Jackie regarded her life: before she left Mitch, and after.
The after was like a rusty anchor weighing her down, dragging her to the bottom of an ocean.
She hadn’t realized she had started crying. Annoyed at her fragile body, so quickly overrun with heightened emotions she’d buried a decade ago, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Year by year, the gaping hole Mitch left in her heart had been patched over by new experiences, memories, even flings. Distractions. But there had never been anyone else who had been real. She hadn’t fallen in love again. What was the point? It would only lead to misery.
If she let herself take the steel guardrail off her emotions and unlock their depths, she’d have to admit that she missed everything about Mitch.
He had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.
And she’d ripped it all to shreds, threw it into a bonfire, poured gasoline on it and dropped a match like it had meant nothing.
She pulled her legs to her chest, pressing her forehead to her knees. He must’ve hated her so much, she realized. He had good reasons. They talked about forever, made all the plans for their life after college …
Jackie opened her mouth, letting out a soundless scream. There was no anger left in her. This one thing—one huge mistake she’d never forgive herself for—had consumed all of it years ago. Her emotional reserves had been running dry ever since.
Don’t think about it. Don’t torture yourself. It’s all in the past. It is an awful coincidence that he’s here. He’ll leave soon, and you won’t see him again. That’ll be it—forever, this time.
She straightened her back, feeling something pop as she inhaled sharply. Logic pushed its way back at the forefront of her mind, reminding her of one crucial thing she had almost forgotten in all the self-pitying wallowing.
Mitch was here on his honeymoon. Even though he didn’t get married, he had wanted to. He had found someone else to share all his dreams with.
Acid rose in her throat. Did he leave his fiancée handwritten letters as well? Did he bring her pink roses every other Friday?
She’d known, of course, that he’d meet someone else. It had been so long. She shouldn’t have been surprised. And yet … Yet something heavy pressed against her chest like a stone wall.
It was supposed to be her. He was supposed to be hers; she was supposed to be his. Before it all got fucked up.
Jackie jumped to her feet when she heard a firm knock. Wiping away tears which had already started drying on her face, she pinched her cheeks to snap herself out of whatever daze she had been in and opened the door to find Rea.
Concern lined Rea’s face and glinted in her brown eyes. She peered over Jackie’s shoulder, into her room. “Are you okay, Miss van Moetlier?”
Jackie forced a smile. “Of course. I needed to come up and get changed … I noticed there was some dirt on my shirt.”
Rea’s brow rose skeptically but she kept her mouth shut.
Jackie stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.
Her room was always one of the guest bedrooms. When she first started working at van Moetlier’s hotels, she wanted to stay in the staff accommodation, but it soured the atmosphere, with everyone tiptoeing around her.
Now, she took one of the guest rooms, eager to avoid awkwardness.
“Did everything get sorted with that new guest? There’s an airport shuttle soon, perhaps we could help him arrange a return flight and send him on his way,” Jackie said.
“A return flight?” Confusion scrunched Rea’s features. “No, he changed his mind. He said he’s more than happy to stay the full two weeks with us. Said he doesn’t even mind the honeymoon suite.”
Jackie gritted her teeth, balling her hands into fists by her sides. “Of course he doesn’t,” she muttered under her breath.
Damn you, Mitch.
Why couldn’t he make her life infinitely easier and go back to where he came from? How was she going to manage all those big feelings, laced with regret and memories, if he was sleeping under the same roof?
“After you left, he didn’t seem as drunk or out of it as we initially thought. He’s quite charming, actually.” Rea looked down, a blush covering her cheeks.
Jackie sighed. Trust Mitch Craigton to woo her unsuspecting hotel staff with his stupid dimples, gorgeous green eyes and that obnoxious cowboy hat, which he’d grown into even more since she had last seen him.
Her lungs deflated as she recalled his perfectly corded muscles, broad arms, hard chest … From what she’d gleaned downstairs, the cowboy hat wasn’t the only thing looking better with age.
“Fine. He can stay,” she told Rea. Then she caught the strange way Rea was studying her and added: “I mean, I’m glad he decided to stay. And that it’s all sorted.” She shuffled her feet awkwardly, wishing she could be anywhere else.
Rea must’ve sensed her discomfort, as she nodded eagerly and fumbled with her pocket, taking out a phone and scrolling through something on the screen. “I need to go check if everything’s ready at the beach for Room 409’s proposal.”
“Oh. I forgot about that.” Jackie winced. Apparently, everyone was falling in love left, right and center, and here she was: reliving a heartbreak of her own making. “Throw in a bottle of Dom Pérignon 2015 from the hotel, with our congratulations.”
Rea eyed her suspiciously. “You’re sure?”
“Why not?”
Rea continued looking at her like she could tell something was wrong. “You always say you don’t believe in love.”
“Does she now?” a male voice asked, amusement echoing through those three words.
Jackie stiffened, her stupid body itching to lean into the familiar sound. Apparently, ten years wasn’t enough to counteract the effect Mitch had on her. If she believed in God, she’d have dropped to her knees and prayed for some angel to descend from the heavens to whisk her away.
Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of his voice, needing to mentally catch herself as her heart dropped when their eyes met.
He had either jumped into a cold shower or miraculously shrugged off the alcohol fumes, because the man standing before her now didn’t seem anything but sober.
Short, prickly stubble covered his face, matching his dark blond hair—slightly longer than the last time she’d seen him.
Thick, dark lashes framed his deep-set green eyes.
Jackie remembered how she used to think they looked like someone put an overlay on top of an emerald.
There were some new lines running over his forehead and kissing his eyes, but not much else had changed.
Still a handsome devil.
Somehow, these extra years suited him. His posture and the way he held himself were different. Like he’d remembered where to find the confidence he gained when they had been together and kept coming back for more, in bucketloads.
His full lips quirked into a smirk, and he pushed his hands in his pockets. “So, you don’t believe in love, Jackie? That’s new.”
Rea glanced at them, clearly uncomfortable. “Excuse me, I’m going to go check on the set-up. You’re good here, Miss van Moetlier?”
Jackie gave her a wooden nod. “Of course. Thank you, Rea.”
Holding her breath, she watched Rea walk up the corridor and disappear round the corner.
Her skin prickled, her senses on high alert, ready for fight or flight.
When she was convinced that Rea was well and truly out of earshot, she whirled round to face Mitch again.
“This is very unfortunate, but I promise you won’t even see me.
You can enjoy your stay, and I’ll keep out of your way,” she said in a low voice, annoyed at how it trembled at the end of every single word.
Mitch shook his head, his expression softening into one of contemplation. “I don’t want you staying out of my way. I want you—need you—to finally tell me why you left.”
She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze. “I can’t,” she whispered. Tears welled up in her eyes again, his scrutinizing stare stoking fire in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side.
Despite herself, she stole a glance at him, her eyes darting of their own accord to his delicious forearms. Her heart ached with the memory of how safe she’d felt in his arms. How every other set of arms paled in comparison through the years.
For a split second, all the reasons why she couldn’t tell him whatever he wanted evaded her.
They ceased to exist. Maybe there was a parallel universe in which this could be true.
Maybe in that universe she had never left him.
She wanted to bang her stupid head against the wall.
Damn you, forearms.
“I’ll find out,” he said with a startling conviction.
Jackie snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I don’t need luck.” He took a step forward, and another one. Their chests almost touched; their hearts almost lined up.
“And why is that?”
“You feel guilty. I see it in your eyes.”
She laughed, looking away.
Mitch sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “Come on, Jackie. I need a win here. I’ve been abandoned twice now—hard not to think it’s me. Tell me it’s not me.”
The old, familiar pull between them squeezed her chest. Her breath hitched. She stepped out of his reach, wrapping her arms around her middle. “It’s not you.”
“Then tell me why. Please.”
She swallowed, wishing she could squash down the flare of desire that his closeness awakened in her. “It was ten years ago, Mitch. It’s in the past. You were ready to marry someone else. And I’m not the same girl you knew in Texas.”
He grinned and her heart sank. “Good. I can’t wait to meet the woman you’ve become.”