Page 48 of Her Property

“So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?” Jake said. He wasn’t looking at her; he was gripping the back of his chair, his muscles even more tense than they had been before.

Cat was stunned. Was he pissed off at her that she was trying to help? Part of her—the rational part—argued that he was just pissed off generally at the whole thing.Just like you would be.

But this was the opening she’d been looking for. The escape. Because that’s what she needed to do—extricate herself from this mess. She’d been a fool yet again. For betraying Alfred. For thinking she could help.

For falling for Jake.

“I don’t know,” Cat said, her voice quiet. “But now that you have this information, maybe you can figure out what to do about it.”

Jake looked up, as if he was surprised she’d be upset.

“I’m going to get dressed,” she said, “then I’ll be going.”

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

Pain stabbed at her chest. He wasn’t even arguing her leaving. “I’ll walk, thanks.”

“Cat, come on,” he said, coming over to her. “It’s ten o’clock at night. The road is unlit.”

“It’s not far,” she said. “I’m an adult. I can figure it out.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not ridiculous!” she shouted. She hadn’t meant to shout. And she knew he was right. She was being a fool again. She took a long breath.

“Cat,” Jake said, “I’m sorry. All of this is just… a lot. I don’t like thinking about my mother.”

“Well, you’re going to have to if you want to keep going with this camp you’re building.” Cat wasn’t shouting now, but she knew she sounded just as harsh.

He looked at her with such a look of sadness that for the briefest moment she wanted to go back to him, to wrap her arms around him. To tell him they’d figure it out together.

Instead, she said, “Where are my clothes?”

Jake got up without a word, coming back a minute later with a laundry basket. She didn’t wait for him to bring it over, she took it from him and angrily yanked out all her clothes. They were entangled with his, and the sight made her throat ache. How stupid she’d been to come over here. To think she might be able to help.

She put on her shoes and coat and turned at the door. Jake was watching her, his lips in a straight line.

She hated this. She hated how everything so beautiful had turned so sour. But how else would it end? This was a bad idea from the beginning. And this was its inevitable conclusion.

Jake strode over to her in what felt like three quick steps. For a half-breath she thought he was going to embrace her. But he reached past her for his own coat. She heard the jingle of keys inside.

When he opened the door, a gust of wind and rain burst into the cabin and Cat sucked in a breath.

“You want to walk?” he said.

It was so dark she couldn’t even see the road. Gritting her teeth, she stormed out of the cabin towards his truck.

* * *

Cat slammedthe door of Alfred’s lake house, holding her breath. It was only when she heard the sound of Jake’s tires grinding into the dirt she slid down to the floor of the foyer, a sob wracking her chest.

They hadn’t said a single word to each other on the three-minute drive back. He’d just gripped the steering wheel so hard she thought he might bend it out of shape.

After the revelation about Stella, Jake had shut off completely. She knew he had some complicated feelings about his mother. But the fact that he wouldn’t talk about her at all? Even if it was going to help him sort out the property dispute and possibly make his dreams of his camp come true? And why would he shove her offer of help away? It was absurd. The man was as stubborn as a mule and couldn’t see someone helping him if they were throwing him a flipping life preserver. Not that she’d pressed. She may be a fool, but she wasn’t a martyr.

Cat clenched her fists hard enough that her fingernails dug into her palms. The bandaged hand sang with pain, but it was a good pain. A reminder that she was a real person, here and now. She wasn’t going to sit here feeling sorry for herself—never mind that he was able to brush her off so easily. The camp was the most important thing in the world to him. If he lost it because of his own stubborn refusal to accept help, that was his funeral.

Standing up, Cat brushed herself off. Her anger was like a heat radiating through her, but as she stripped off her clothes and got into the shower, it began to retreat. And under the anger was a raw, gaping wound.

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