Page 54 of Where You Left Me

He moves closer to me and pushes my long hair behind my ear. “I thought you wanted to talk about this?”

I look up at him. “I do. I did. But that was before.”

“Before…?” he lets the question hang in between us.

“Before…you and me…you know.”

He grins. “Peaches, are you getting shy on me again?”

“What? No, don’t be silly.” I wave him off and face the river again.

But he grips my hip and spins me back around, stealing the air from my lungs. The wood railing presses into my lower back as he forces his chest against mine. Fear edges in the back of my mind about the rushing water below us.

“Then say it,” Jones demands, his voice low and rumbly.

Flustered, my cheeks fill with heat as my eyes search his. “What do you want me to say, Jones? That we had sex? That we fucked? We made love? Because I don’t know what we did, or what we are.”

“All of it. We had sex, we fucked, we made love,” he repeats my words and it’s intense.

My heart beats wildly in my chest. Confusion swims in my head while my craving for him tightens in my core. His fingers dig into my hips and it’s borderline painful. Except it’s not.Because we’re in this intense moment. Where we’re actually talking about our feelings. Where we’re talking about what’s going on between us.

“That’s so fucked up,” my words tumble out, my gaze dancing over his.

“You’re right. It is fucked up. Because what we have between us isn’t simple. It isn’t cut and dry. It never has been with us. And it has nothing to do with the baby.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t do this with you, Jones.”

“You can’t do what?”

“This,” I announce, gesturing in the space between us. “I spent years trying to get over you. I spent years trying to find a healthy relationship.”

“What are you saying? You don’t think we had a healthy relationship? Because that’s bullshit, Mia.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” I agree.

He lets go of me and steps backward, the pressure releases from my lungs.

Shoving his hands through his hair, he turns his back to me. “You’re the one who wanted to do this. In my truck the other day. You’re the one who wanted to talk about it. Abouther.” He spins back around to face me. “Now what? You don’t?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t want to hurt you,” my words choke out.

“Yeah, well, too late for that,” he snaps, his eyes are dark and hollow.

Anguish aches in my throat. How did we get here just now? How did our conversation go from heated to emotional? I want to go back to how we were only moments before. Where he wanted me and I so badly wanted him.

A tear rolls down my cheek and I swipe it away. “That’s not fair, Jones.”

“Fair? You wanna talk about fair?” He begins pacing on the bridge. “Okay, let’s fucking do it. I’ll go first.”

A couple approaches the bridge but thankfully they read the room and change their mind and take the path back the way they came.

“We made plans. Standing in this very spot.” He points down at the bridge. “We were going to start a family, we were going to get married,” he fires off one at a time.

My heart thunders against my ribs. “Yes, but then we lost her,” I cry, cutting him off.

“Yeah,” he huffs, placing his hands on his hips. “And then you left me. Right after we lost our baby, I lost you, too.”

A sob rips free from my chest and as much as I try to muffle it, it still sounds intrusive.

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