Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jackson
D aphne's eyes fill with something I can't place. Something between I'm so sorry and I don't owe you anything .
She holds my gaze for a long moment, then she looks to the ground. She finds whatever it is she needs to say in the off-white concrete.
Slowly, her eyes meet mine. "I wasn't going to tell you."
The anger racing through me dissipates. An honest confession is the last thing I know how to hear.
I can fight back, I can run, I can argue, I can overpower her logic with mine.
I can't change the facts.
"I know it feels like I should have told you." Her voice stays sure and strong. "I feel that too. All week—hell, since I got into my mom's car, I've wanted to get this off my chest." She struggles through a deep breath. "Do you have any idea how scared I am to leave my brother alone? To leave my best friend? My family?"
The vulnerability in her voice cuts through every one of my defenses.
I don't want to hold strong against her. I don't want to hold this against her. I want to hold her close. I want to tell her it will be okay.
There's another impulse in my gut. An urge to push her far, far away. Until she's too far to touch. Until I can't see the hurt in her eyes or smell her shampoo or feel her skin.
Until she fits into a box with all my ex-girlfriends.
But Daphne will never fit with them. Because I love her in a way I've never loved them.
I love her in a way I've never loved anyone.
"I told you three weeks," she says. "We agreed to that. Three weeks and then we go our own ways. Live our own lives."
"You didn't tell me what that meant."
"I didn't owe you that." She holds strong, even as her voice softens. "I am sorry, Jackson. I didn't think I'd feel this way. But I… I can't do it."
"What?" My voice drops to a tone I don't recognize. There's no control. Only a desperate need for her.
"I can't give you two more weeks." She reaches for my hands.
Her fingers brush mine. Her hand curls around my wrist, but it doesn't stay there. She doesn't try to pull me closer.
"The truth is, I knew I was going to New York in January. I've known for a long time and I haven't told anyone. Not even my parents." She pushes an exhale through her teeth. "Mom found out, of course. She has a friend at the hospital. Then Dad found out. He has friends too. They know too many people."
That happens with my parents too. They're always one step ahead of me.
Do they know about this?
Have they kept this from me?
"I know I should have said something sooner. To Cass. To Damon. To you. I should have said I can't stay married because I'm moving to New York City. But I couldn't."
She takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, heavy exhale.
Her voice stays steady. "You see me as this strong, defiant woman. And I am that. Sometimes. Other times, I get lost in what people expect of me. My whole life, I was the good daughter, the smart student, the one with promise. I had to live up to that. It was hard. It weighed on me. It still does. That's why I live alone. That's why I didn't keep boyfriends. I can't take the pressure of other people's need for me."
She pauses to give me space to reply.
But there's nothing I can say. She's sure. Even if she wasn't, I couldn't ask her to stay.
I couldn't ask her to put my wishes ahead of hers.
"I know you, Cass, Mom, Dad, Damon—everyone wants me here. They won't ask. They'll be happy for me," she continues. "But of course, they want me to stay. I wouldn't want the opposite. How awful would that be if everyone wanted me to leave? But I can't handle the pressure of it. I'll crumble."
She releases my hand.
A part of me releases with it. I feel the change in the energy. The effort of it. The way it hurts her too.
"I know it's cowardly to wait until the last minute, but I couldn't take the chance someone would change my mind," she says. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I can't give you the time I promised. I wasn't planning it this way, but I have to walk now or I might not be able to do it later. And that would never work. I'd hold it against you for the rest of my life."
And I'd never forgive myself for getting in the way of her dreams.
"It would rot our relationship from the inside," she says.
I nod with understanding. "Do you need help setting up in New York?"
She shakes her head. "Dad is coming with me." She looks to the big, beautiful house. "I can go back inside and play this role, but that's it."
"No. Take the car. Go wherever you need to go. I'll call someone."
"Are you sure?" she asks.
I'm not sure which part she's asking. Truthfully, I'm not sure of any of it. But, like her, I need to do this now, or I might not ever do it.
I need to release her before my temptation to hold her close overpowers me.
"Yes," I say.
"I'll get my stuff out while you're here," she says. "Give me a few hours, okay?"
"Can I see you off?" I ask.
She offers me a sad smile. "No. I don't think I'll be able to say goodbye again."
"I lo—"
"Don't say it, please. I won't be able to leave."
I nod. I pull her into my arms, I hold her close, I release her.
I go back inside and find a space to myself, the quiet of the study, and I whisper the words I've never said to anyone.
I love you, Daphne Webb .