Page 33 of Bitter Truth
It’s likely, considering I catch the faint mewling coming from behind the closed door at the back of the house. Rushing down the hall, I fling the door open and turn on the light. The raccoon looks at me with sad eyes, reaching an arm toward me between the bars of her pen. The fight must have woken her.
Opening the door, I gather her in my arms. Murmur soft apologies as I gently rock her, hoping to get her back to sleep. As I do, I pull out my phone and check the surveillance camera app.
Jake is still parked out front. No doubt he’s planning on spending the night sleeping in his truck, afraid to leave me alone to fend for myself against another attempt on my life.
He really does love me, we’re just going through a rough patch right now. All couples have them. I just haveto have faith that we’ll get through it.
The hot coal inside the pit of my stomach cools a little. Sorrow takes its place.
If the situation had been reversed, and Jake had listened to another woman’s opinion about how I was feeling over my own, how would I have felt? The flames of my fury probably would have been seen in space, that’s how.
I owe him an apology. And as soon as I get the kit settled, I’m going to go out there and give him one.
Ten minutes later, she’s back in the cage, curled up with Jake’s shirt. Her eyes are closed. Her body rises and falls with deep breaths. Carefully, I tiptoe from the room and turn off the light.
Then I race to the front door and fling it open. My throat squeezes tight. The tears I’ve been battling all day finally win, cascading down my cheeks.
Jake’s gone. He left me after all.
CHAPTER 17
Everything feels wrong. My skin is too tight, my nerves too frayed, my heart too heavy. And my brain? It doesn’t believe what’s going on. But it’s true.
Last night, when I first realized Jake had left, I was convinced something bad must have happened to him. I even brought up the surveillance footage, sure that I’d see a gunman approach Jake’s truck and force him to drive away. When that didn’t prove true, I rewound the video even farther, watching the vehicle from the moment he got home to make sure someone hadn’t climbed inside, hidden in the back seat.
No one did.
Which means that despite everything that’s been going on, the threat I might be facing, he chose to go. The Jake I know wouldn’t do that. But how well do I really know him?
I’ve been back less than half a year. Sure, we were inseparable as children, but that was a long time ago.Over thirty years. Before his mom helped murder my parents and abandoned him. The mom who he’s decided to buy a legal defense for, to help her get away with what she did to my family.
Emptying the last three Tums from the plastic bottle, I crunch them between my aching molars, wondering if I’m a fool. But I refuse to give up just yet. Even my grandfather, the man who raised me to be so wary and on guard, trusted Jake implicitly. I can’t allow myself to be a coward and turn my back on what we have just because it turns out he’s human and not perfect.
All night long, I kept telling myself to give him the benefit of the doubt and not jump to conclusions. As I paced around the house. Checked in on the sleeping raccoon, selfishly wanting to wake her for a cuddle. As I desperately tried to get some sleep.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jake’s back as he walked through the door without a backward glance. The harder I tried to clear my mind, the louder Dylan Walker’s parting words rang inside it:“Think about the blood that’s in his veins. Her blood.”
My heart is begging me not to rush to conclusions. My gut keeps assuring me that there’s an explanation.
At the same time, I’m so hurt that I can’t help being angry. Would he have left if he really cared about me?
Even if he would, is this what I have to look forward to in this relationship? Him taking off instead of staying and talking it out like an adult whenever I do something that upsets him? He’s the one who felt the need to sneak around, even though I’ve done my best to let him know that it wasn’t necessary.
Which brings me around to the entirehow well do I really know himargument again. Maybe we’re moving too fast. Maybe this is my sign that I need to take a stepback, pump the brakes, and insert some distance between us.
It’s what I usually do. Since I escaped Matt and started college, I’ve yet to have a relationship last longer than a few months, turning my back and walking away at the first sign of trouble.
But as much as I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to be vulnerable, every cell in my body says that I need to talk to him before making any decisions. Only, that’s kind of hard to do when he won’t answer his phone or return my texts.
My jaw clenches so fiercely as I end the call that my neck goes into spasm. My throat is so tight I can barely swallow. The rest of me isn’t faring much better. I think I made a mistake. The question is, how badly have I messed up?
Before I can change my mind, I place another call. Drum my fingers on the kitchen table while I listen to it ring. Exhale a huge sigh of relief when it’s answered.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hi, Mallory.”
“Director Jacobson filled me in on what happened. They just aren’t giving you a break down there, are they?”
