Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

CHAPTER 22

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Astonishment crossed his face, maybe that I would even say such a thing to him.

Suddenly it felt strange to me, too, that I could respond with such hate after reacting with the degree of love and passion that passed between us minutes ago. Part of me was sick at the evil words that I had just flung between us. Did this make me as cold as him? Still, I rationalized, like a mother lion I was fiercely protecting Tristan even if I had to take a tiger by the tail.

“I explained that to you,” He seemed hurt by my words, disappointed in me, and ashamed that this thing was a part of his past. “It's not true and you said you knew.”

“You should go.” Unable to look at the mixture of emotions on his face, I turned. Unfortunately, I faced the mirror, so I didn't miss the slow fury marinating his face.

“That's always your answer isn't it?” He taunted nastily. “Distance.”

“You don't know anything about me.”

“I know how to make you scream.”

A shocked breath lodged in my throat, and I wrestled with my gaze trapped by his dark challenge.

The soft answer used as sarcasm instead of seduction heated up my insides and inflamed my fury as it only reminded me that he could be intimate in my bed and indifferent out of it.

As I eyed the various things on the dresser, choosing what I wanted to throw, he went on with the argument.

“You wouldn't tell me about Tristan, because you felt safe with this secret living so far away. When you got mad at the hospital you wanted me to leave, and now you are saying it again. You run away from problems or push them away from you.” Softly, “I know more about you than you know about yourself.”

“I call bullshit on that. You think you've got me figured out after knowing me for a couple of weeks--”

“Call it what you want but you need a wake up call. You are missing out on good things because you are too scared to see that they are even there.”

Again, I piddled with the hair accessories on my dresser, and the silence stretched. He was right. There was nothing I wanted more than for him to disappear; to leave me in my misery. But, after that speech, I refused to say anything of the sort.

“Momma?” The tiny voice whipped me around, and protectively, I advanced on my little boy, who was peering into the slit of the door. “Want to see what I can do?”

A pull of the door knob swung the door in, and I grinned seeing his mischievous smile, wondering what it was concerning this time. Bally was on his heels, minus any pranks on her fur.

A piece of me wanted to glance at Jack, to see his proud smile, but I was so hurt by his deceit I could not.

“Ready?” Standing in the doorway, he drug the moment out with suspense.

“I'm ready!” I accompanied the enthused exclamation with an equally excited smile.

“I know I'm ready!” Jack's deep voice agreed.

Dramatically, Tristan held his arms slightly up, and his crutches raised like wings. Watching the floor, he took one step, then another, then another! Swaying some, he caught himself on his crutches, then turned his eyes to mine, seeking my reaction.

Jack and I reached him at the same time, our knees doing a synonymous guitar solo type slide the last couple of feet across the floor. Enfolding the tiny body in a bear hug, I dabbed my damp eyes on one of his tiny shoulders. Jack's fingers brushed mine as he participated in the hug the best he could, and realizing I was being selfish, I passed Tristan his way. My eyes filled emotionally again while watching them wrapped together.