Secret Storm (14 page)

His shoulders slumped. "Not you too," he
muttered.

"Yes, me too," she snapped. "It's obvious you
need to talk to someone."

He clamped his lips tight.

"Your mom wants you to go to the funeral on
Tuesday." His jaw twitched, and he refused to look at her, so she
spoke to the back of his head. "But you don't want to."

"I don't even want
her
to go. But she
wants to make sure he's dead."

Morbid, but reasonable under the
circumstances.
"Don't you need to be sure?"

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with
anguish she couldn't measure and anger he couldn't seem to find the
words to express.

She got up and moved around one end of the
couch, trying to get close to him, but he backed around the
opposite end, keeping the couch between them. "I understand that
you're hurt, but he was your father—"

"Don't you get it?" He forced the words
through his clenched jaw, his voice low and calm. "He brutalized
me."

"I know—"

"No. You don't know. How could you possibly
understand what he did to me? What I did—"

"How can I understand if you don't tell me?"
Her fists hit the couch, and he backed up as she advanced on him,
the damn couch still a barrier between them. "I know you're still
hiding something. I tried to be patient. I tried to wait until you
were ready to tell me. I can deal with that. But I can't deal with
it if you won't trust me!"

"It's not about trust, Sara!" He yelled back
at her. "It's about protecting—"

"I've had it with that excuse! Tell me what
you're protecting me from."

"From me!"

"What?"
But he would never....
"Jack,
that makes no sense."

"It does to me." He leaned on the couch as if
something suddenly weighed him down.

"I deliberately provoked you last night,
testing you. You had the chance to hurt me and you didn't take it.
But the past will hurt us—"

"I won't let it."

"—if you keep it a secret. How can I trust
you if you keep this hidden from me?"

"You don't understand." He collapsed on the
armrest, rubbing his temples with both hands.

"Then help me understand." She closed the gap
between them, laying her hands on his trembling shoulders. "Please,
Jack, if we're ever going to have a future together, we have got to
overcome the past."

"I have overcome it." His head snapped up and
he snarled. "It's dead, and on Tuesday it'll be buried for
good."

His vicious words drove her back a step, but
she took a deep breath and plowed on. "You haven't, or you'd be
able to tell me about it now. It happened so long ago, but you
haven't kept it buried." The wind roared so loud, she barely heard
his next words.

"It wasn't that long ago," he whispered, his
eyes haunted.

"When?"

"I was sixteen when he...." His voice was so
low she could barely hear him.

The shadow of a dark memory crossed his face,
and pieces of the puzzle slid into place in her brain. Something
else had happened to him, something so terrible he couldn't....
What could possibly...?

"When he what?"

Jack's jaw twitched and his eyes went
cold.

Oh God.
"What happened when he found
you, Jack?"

How does she know? Did Austin tell her?
Did Jane?
Jack looked at Sara's wide eyes, her lips trying to
form words that would make sense of the discovery she'd just made.
She didn't know. A lucky guess.

He gathered his strength and forced himself
to stay calm and focused. "He never found us."

"I see." Her voice trembled. "Why are you
lying to me? You told me I could trust you, that you would prove
it, but with one stupid lie you've violated any trust you
earned."

"I...."
Oh God.

She had tears in her eyes again as she picked
up her car keys. "I can't be with you right now. I don't know if I
can ever be...." Her voice trailed off and she turned toward the
door, rain still pouring outside.

He couldn't let her run again. "Sara,
wait."

She stopped, not looking at him.

He had no idea what to say to her, no idea
how to make her stay. "Tell me what to do."

When she met his eyes, he could see exactly
what was on her mind. "I already have."

No.
"I can't do that. There has to be
something else—anything else."

She shook her head. "I'm done fighting with
you. Goodbye, Jack."

No no no.
"Don't go." He reached for
her, but she pulled away.

"I have to. I can't do this anymore."

She wanted the truth. Maybe if he told her
the truth about his feelings for her.... "I love you. I've loved
you for so long."

A bitter laugh made her tears spill over.
"You expect me to believe that after you just lied to me?"

"I hoped...."
For what? That she would
fall into my arms and say she loved me too? No. She's too strong
for that.

"This is why I need to trust you, but I can't
trust you if you won't...." She sobbed and ran out the door.

Her footsteps echoed down the stairwell as he
stared after her. "What have I done?"

He sank down on the couch, holding his
throbbing head in his hands. The pain knifed through his heart,
ripping open old wounds, but he knew he didn't hurt as much as she
did. Why couldn't he just take the risk and tell her?

Yeah, take a risk—that worked so well
before.

Memories hit him like a speeding landslide,
crushing him under their weight. Bad memories, memories no one
should ever know about, especially not someone as loving and caring
as Sara. He couldn't put that burden on her. Jack had to carry it
alone. Maybe if he explained she would understand. He must be able
to earn her trust some other way. He couldn't let her go without
trying again.

Or could he? Other women complained that he
wouldn't open up, that they couldn't get close to him. His hard
heart always drove them away.

Spend your life alone. It's safer that
way.
He wouldn't make the same mistakes as Prentiss if he had
no one in his life to hurt.

A phone rang, but not his.
Austin's?
Realization set in; he was sitting on Sara's couch. "What have I
done?" He'd driven her away from her own home.
I truly am Robert
Prentiss's son.

Sara's phone chimed and he picked it up.
'
New voicemail from David
,
'
the screen lit up. His
fingers tightened.
Why won't that guy stop calling?
The
phone snapped, and he dropped it on the coffee table where Sara had
lain half-naked only a few minutes ago. But now she'd left and he
sat alone.

In her empty apartment.

Empty like his life. He had to do something
to fill the hole in his heart. A dark, dangerous thought crept into
his mind. He tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't let go. He
didn't have the strength to fight anymore.

"I need a drink."

Lightning struck the building, plunging him
into darkness.

***

On her way out of the building, Sara spotted
the mailbox. The last few days had been so chaotic that checking
the mail felt good, natural, normal. She really needed some normal.
She opened her box and found only one envelope inside: an
acceptance letter from Greenwood University, her top choice for
grad school.

Well, at least one thing's certain.

Everything else raged out of control. Her car
keys slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She picked
them up and stuffed them in her pocket, then folded the letter. She
considered taking the letter upstairs, but Jack hadn't come down,
so he must still be waiting for her.

After shoving the letter back in the mailbox,
she yanked her keys from her pocket and ran out the front door.

She drove without thinking—not planning her
route. The storm moved off into the distance with fading flashes of
lightning following it. She turned off the wipers, then turned on
the radio and flipped through the stations—only annoying
commercials and sappy love songs at this time of night.

Yuck.
She'd hated those even when
she'd been happily in love. When had she been happy? Just a few
hours ago... playing football with Jack. When had she been in love?
Let's not go there yet.
Too many other issues wrestled for
her attention.

She turned off the radio and stopped at a red
light, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel while she waited
for it to turn green.
Wait a minute... I'm the only one at this
damn intersection. What the hell am I waiting for?

She stepped on the gas and drove through the
red light, a satisfied smile touching her lips at seizing that
little bit of control. In just a few days, Jack Wheeler had sent
her life on a roller coaster ride, and while she loved the thrill,
the jarring twists and jerks had nearly flung her loose when she
should've been strapped in and safe.
Where is this ride
going?

Sara's head spun with endless looping
questions.
Where am I? Where am I going?
No, really,
where the hell...?
She turned right and pulled into a parking
lot before she got completely lost. The building in front of her
looked familiar—The Harbor Master's Inn—the hotel where David
stayed whenever he came to visit her. She spotted his car in the
parking lot and frowned. Odd. He should be out hitting the college
bars looking for some action.

Maybe he
has
changed.

Guys like that don't change.

"Shut up, Jack." She turned off the car,
knowing exactly where to find David's room.

Had something—some fate—brought her here? No.
She didn't believe in fate. Force of habit—something familiar in
the midst of uncertainty. She turned away from the door and started
back toward the lobby.

But I'm here now.
At the moment, she
needed something familiar. Aside from David's cheating, their
relationship had been as comfortable as it could get—even a little
on the dull side—but she wasn't here to reconcile.
Why are you
here?

Certainly not for sex.
She closed her
eyes and relived her last sexual encounter—with Jack—not David. A
dizzy spiral threw her off balance, and she braced her hand against
the wall.
God, I love roller coasters.

No, she wouldn't let David touch her. She
just needed someone to talk to, and her ex knew how to talk.
Listening, not so much. She'd rather talk to Jane, but her friend
was spending the night at Austin's apartment, and Jack would be
there too. Besides, Jane would cloud her mind with gushy love talk,
and that was the last thing Sara needed.

Stop arguing with yourself and do
something!

She knocked on the door.

"Sara?" David blinked and finished off his
drink.

"Hi." She rubbed her knuckles, still not
believing she'd actually knocked. "Can I come in?"

He smiled like a toothy Jack-o-lantern.
"Sure. Please, come right in."

She stepped through the door of the
all-too-familiar room and looked for a safe place to sit. The
king-sized bed filled almost the whole room.
Do not sit on the
bed!
A harmless-looking chair had been pushed into the desk,
but she had to walk around the bed to get to it. A coffee table and
a small sofa offered the only other options.

Ooo... coffee table... definitely not
going there
. Has the room always been this small?

David grabbed a tiny bottle of vodka from the
mini-bar. "Do you want a drink?"

God, do I ever!
"No thanks." She
leaned back against the dresser, trying to look casual.

He poured the vodka into his glass and leaned
back next to her—too comfortable and not at all safe. Concern
filled his eyes. "How are you?"

Angry, hurt, confused, exhausted.
On
top of all that, she wanted to bolt out of the room, run back to
Jack, and either kill him or kiss him. She couldn't decide which.
"I'm fine."

"Sure you are." He rubbed his swollen nose.
"How's the guy who punched me?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "He won't talk
to me."

"You can talk to me." He slid closer.

That's why I'm here, right?
She sighed
and ran her hand through her hair, not really wanting to rehash the
whole story, especially not to someone who didn't know Jack or care
about him.

She decided to keep it simple. "Jack's hiding
something from me."

David leaned against her shoulder, sliding
his hand down her cheek as he turned her face to meet his—a perfect
picture of concerned compassion. "Do you think he's seeing someone
else?"

Why is
that
his first question?
"No," she said sharply, jerking away from his touch. "He was...."
No details. Jack had trusted her with his painful past, and she
wouldn't violate that trust no matter how angry she felt at the
moment. "He had a difficult childhood. He told me about some of it,
but he's still holding something back."

"So?" He picked up his drink and sipped it,
as if dismissing the subject.

"So it's obviously still hurting him and I
want to help." Over the years, she'd watched Jack direct his buried
anger into his athletic abilities. He was a mystery, an enigma she
couldn't resist, and knowing part of the truth only fueled her
desire to know it all.

"You can't take care of everyone." He put
down his drink and moved close again.

"Why not? It's what I do." But Jack resisted
her help, keeping his needs to himself—too stubborn to let her
in.

"I know you think you need to. You do it so
much, people expect it from you, but this guy doesn't want your
help or he would've asked for it."

"He keeps telling me I need to let him in,
but he won't do the same for me. I can't get close to him, and
every time I think he's opening up, he shuts me out again."