Chapter 13 Janie
THIRTEEN
Janie
“So,” I say, breaking the silence that’s become almost unbearable. “What should we do now?”
I shift to face him cross-legged, acutely aware of how his sweatshirt rides up on my thighs when I move. From the way his gaze flicks down, then quickly back to my face, he noticed too. I pull his blanket over my legs a little more.
“Want to play a game or something?” I ask.
“What kind of game?”
“Two truths and a lie? You tell me three things, I have to guess which one is the lie.”
“Okay,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. “You first.”
I think for a moment, chewing on my lip while I try to come up with some ideas. “All right. I can speak some Spanish, I’ve never broken a bone, and I wanted to be a teacher from the time I was five.”
He studies my face a little too intently, like he’s reading my thoughts. “The teacher one is the lie. You decided later.”
I sit up straighter. “How did you know that?”
“You have your tells,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.
“What tells?” I want to know how he could read me so easily so I won’t do it again.
“That’s for me to know.” He gives me a pleased smirk.
“Fine, it’s your turn.”
He looks at the ceiling, thinking. “I can juggle, I’ve never been to Europe, and I hate chocolate.”
“The chocolate one is definitely the lie,” I say immediately. “I saw how fast you consumed that hot chocolate…even though you were appalled by the price.”
He stares at me. “You were watching me?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I notice things…kind of like you know my tells.”
The corner of his mouth curls. “Apparently.”
There’s something in his smile that makes my heart feel jumpy. “What can you juggle?”
“Anything, really.” He pulls up the corner of my blanket to cover his feet. “Hockey pucks, tennis balls, fruit. Started when I was bored during the off-season.”
“You should show the kids in my class. They’d be so impressed.”
“But not the teacher?” he questions, lifting an eyebrow.
This feels like a trick question. One I can’t answer without giving too much away. “It takes a lot more to impress the teacher,” I say, flashing him a grin.
We play several more rounds, and I learn that he’s never had a pet, can play piano badly, and has been in love with the same car since he was sixteen. He learns that I’m afraid of spiders, once wanted to be a zookeeper (what kid doesn’t?), and got food poisoning so severe I was hospitalized.
As we play, we keep huddling closer under the blanket as the fire burns down. I tell myself it’s for warmth, but there’s an unmistakable pull that makes me want to lean against him and fall asleep.
“Your turn,” he says when we’ve been at this for almost an hour. The fire has died down to a warm glow, and somehow we’re close enough that I can see the dying flames reflected in his eyes.
“Last one. Because you’re about to fall asleep.” He brushes a finger lightly over the tip of my nose.
“I’m not ready to stop,” I protest. “This is fun, and I never get to have a night just for myself. I’m always on call as a mom.” My eyelids are growing heavy, and I’m dangerously comfortable sitting here with him in the flickering light, wearing his sweatshirt, which smells clean and woodsy.
“All right,” I say, trying to think of something safe. But what comes out isn’t safe at all. “My ex cheated on me, it was with my best friend, and I’m completely over it.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back—not just one statement, but all three of them. Especially when I see the lines deepen between his brows and his entire body stills.
This was supposed to be light and playful, not a therapy session. “Are you sure you want me to guess this?” he says slowly.
I nod, even though I should stop the game now and head to bed.
“I want them all to be lies,” he says, his voice low.
“They’re not all lies, only the last one.” I can’t look at him now because the truth feels too awful. “Nick had an affair with my best friend…a girl I’ve been friends with since elementary school.”
“Janie.” The way he says my name, low and furiously, would be frightening if I didn’t know his anger wasn’t directed at me.
“The affair went on for years,” I say. “Even when I found out I was pregnant, he didn’t stop.” The words pour out now, like a dam breaking. “I told her before anyone else about Aria—even Nick. She hugged me and said she was so happy for me, and the whole time she was…” My throat clogs with emotion.
His jaw tics, the tension radiating off of him. “I want to find this guy and—”
“You’re angry.” It comes out more as a statement than a question.
“Of course I’m angry,” he growls out. “What kind of person does that to someone they’re supposed to love?”
I drop my head, the shame creeping in. “You’d be surprised how many people ask what I did wrong. What I did to drive him away. Like it was my fault he didn’t stay.” My hands curl into fists. “He confessed after I told him I was pregnant. A month later he was gone…”
“Janie.” His hand finds my arm, and even though it doesn’t mean anything, it’s what I desperately need right now. Someone who won’t judge me or cast blame. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who messed up. Not you.”
I want to believe that’s true. But since the day I found out, I’ve gone through all the mistakes I’ve made, all the ways I could’ve changed things. Was I not enough? What did I do to deserve this?
“Hey.” His thumb starts rubbing slow circles on my wrist, and I’m startled by the gentleness in it. “Look at me.”
My gaze meets his.
“Do you hear me?” His fingers move to my hand and pry open my fist. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why does it feel like I did? Like I didn’t love him enough?”
“Because that’s exactly what he wants. To make you think you’re the problem so he doesn’t have to face what he did.
” His free hand cups my face. “But I’ve already seen you, Janie Bennett.
The way you love your daughter, the way you threw yourself into trying to help me—a lost cause who hates your favorite holiday.
Because you actually believe there is something worth saving in me.
That’s not someone who doesn’t give enough. That’s someone who gives everything.”
He pauses as his thumb slowly brushes my cheekbone. “And a man who threw that away? He’s the broken one, not you.”
I blink back the tears, but one still slips out before his finger gently swipes it away.
“I mean it, Janie. If he couldn’t see what he had, that’s his loss.”
I take in a breath, trying to regain my composure. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”
“Don’t.” His voice is firm. “He hurt you. You’re allowed to be angry and sad.”
“I just thought I was past this. It’s been over a year.”
“Don’t apologize for being human. Some things take longer to heal.”
He keeps his hand on my face for a few beats longer, and I forget we’re supposed to be keeping our distance. Right now, I’m too exhausted to know if this is a mistake.
“We should probably get some sleep,” I say finally, but neither of us moves.
“Yeah.” His thumb traces one more path across my cheek before he drops it.
I shift closer, leaning into his warmth and let my eyes drift closed.
“Hey.” He rubs my shoulder lightly. “You can’t sleep until you actually reach the bed.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, not wanting to budge as I snuggle into his chest. “You’re almost as comfortable as a bed.”
There’s a low rumble of laughter under his rib cage. “You’ll regret this later.”
“Pretty sure I won’t,” I mumble, curling into him.
“Then you leave me with no choice.” He shifts next to me, and suddenly I’m being lifted, cradled against him as he carries me across the room.
“I can walk…” I protest weakly.
“But you won’t.” He states it like a fact. “You know what you remind me of when you’re sleeping?”
He sets me down gently on the bed. “A sleep-deprived zombie?”
“No, I was going to say…” He tucks the covers around me. “An angel.”
I crack open one eye. “Ha. I’m far from angelic.”
“Then, sleep well, angel,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek before turning away. And for the first time since Nick left, I think maybe I will.
“Hey,” I call after him. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Nah, not yet,” he says casually. “Might read a little before bed.”
He backs away from the bed, then stops and threads his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should stick to the floor anyway. Sharing a bed with you…” He shakes his head, looking conflicted. “Probably not the best idea.”
I know he’s right. This is safer for my heart. But hearing him say it out loud, after the way I dumped Nick’s affair on him, makes me realize how much I want him to stay.
“Rourke—” I start, but he’s already settling in a chair with a book from his bag.
“Get some sleep,” he says without looking away from the pages. “It’s been a long day.”
He’s doing the right thing. The responsible thing. The thing I’d want him to do if I wasn’t so sleepy and warm.
So why am I disappointed?
At some point, the fire fades and exhaustion wins.
I fall asleep, and before I realize it, I’m back in the worst moment of my life—in my kitchen, walking in on Nick and Lia.
His hand drops from her waist too quickly when he sees me.
They don’t say anything—they don’t need to. The truth is all over their faces.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Janie?” Nick seems startled. “I thought you weren’t coming home yet.”
I was at Scarlett’s house before this. We were picking out nursery decor because Nick didn’t seem interested. Now I know why.
“Are you…” I choke on the words.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He says it like I’m the inconvenience, the one who ruined their secret.
“No,” I whisper.
And that’s when I actually feel it—this searing pain in my chest, like someone’s driven a knife between my ribs. I look down, expecting to see blood, but there’s nothing. Just this invisible wound that hurts worse than any physical injury.
“No!” I shout louder, the pain searing through me.
“Janie.” A worried voice cuts through the nightmare. “Hey, wake up. Come on, angel, wake up.”
My eyes fly open to find a figure leaning over me in the dark. For a moment I don’t know where I am, and I swing out with my hand instinctively.
“Hey.” He catches my wrist easily, but his grip is gentle. “It’s just me.”
Reality crashes back as Rourke comes into focus in the dark room. Silver moonlight cuts across his cheekbones, and his hair is disheveled like he scrambled up from the floor.
I sit up abruptly, my whole body shaking, my breath coming in quick gasps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t.” His hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay? You were crying out…” His brows knit. “You sounded like you were in so much pain.”
I can tell he’s worried about me, and it almost makes me crumble completely. “I saw Nick…” I touch my ribs, where the pain from the dream still lingers. “It felt so real. Like it was happening all over again.”
Rourke moves onto the bed without asking, his hands holding me as if he’s afraid that I might fall apart if he lets go.
“You’re shaking.” His thumbs brush away a few stray tears before his hands steady my shoulders. “Talk to me. What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I just—I can’t stop seeing it.”
“Then look at me instead.” His voice is soft. “Right here. Just focus on me.”
I meet his eyes and it seems to help having something to focus on. He’s here. He’s real. This is real.
“That’s it. Breathe with me. I’ve got you.” One of his hands takes mine. “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
I press my lips together to hold back a muffled sob, and suddenly his arms are around me, pulling me against his chest. One hand cradles the back of my head while the other wraps around my waist, anchoring me.
“I’ve got you.” His mouth brushes against my hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I bury my face in his chest and tell myself he’s nothing like Nick.
“Why are you being so kind about this?” I ask, keeping my face tucked against his shirt.
His hand strokes my back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Most guys would run from this kind of baggage.” I pull back just enough so he can really see me. “I’m a mess, Rourke. I have nightmares about my ex-husband. I have a baby. I’m—”
“Stop.” He cups my face with one hand. “You’re not a mess. You’re someone who got hurt by someone who didn’t treat you right. That’s not baggage. That’s proof you survived something hard.”
I shake my head, blinking back tears. “I don’t feel like I survived. I feel broken beyond repair.”
“You’re not.” His gaze holds mine. “Whatever you’re carrying, I want to help. Even if I can’t take it away completely.” His thumb traces along my cheekbone. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
I stare at him, seeing a side of Rourke I didn’t know existed. This is the man who hates Christmas—and here he is, holding me together while I fall apart. “I don’t think I can fall asleep after that.”
“Then I’ll stay awake with you.”
“No, I meant—” I take a breath. “Will you just…stay? Until I fall asleep again? I know you were on the floor, but I can’t sleep—”
“Whatever you need.” He nods, not questioning it for a second.
He shifts back against the headboard, opening his arms for me. I curl in to his side, tucking myself against his chest. His arms come around me, and I’ve never felt so held.
“Thank you.” My body is starting to relax, the dream slowly fading from memory.
“You don’t have to thank me for this, angel.”
I give him a sleepy smile, too tired to argue about the nickname. His hand smooths over my hair as he brushes the strands away from my face.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t promise things like that,” I murmur.
“Why not?” His hand tucks another strand of hair over my ear. “I keep my promises, angel. Always.” His hand stills. “Now sleep. I’ve got you.”
His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, his arms secure around me. For the first time since Nick left, for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I feel safe.