Page 132 of Cowboy's Last Stand
Jason swallowed hard.He wished he could take away her pain and fix all the wrongs between them.“Did you think I was guilty?”
“I didn’t know what to think.”
His heart sank further.He supposed he deserved her lack of faith.He’d earned her distrust, and now he had to reap what he sowed.If she believed him capable of murder, how could he convince her to give him another chance?
“I reread Mike’s letters,” she said, changing the subject.
He smothered a curse because it was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
“Did you write them?”
“He asked for my help,” Jason said tightly.
“Does that mean yes?”
He didn’t respond.This was the truth he’d never meant to tell.
“Was it all you?Every word?”
“It wasn’t.Not at first.”
“Not until I was hooked?”
“He loved you,” Jason said in Mike’s defense.“He wanted to make you happy.”
“What about you?”she shot back.“Why did you do it?What motivation could you possibly have for writing intimate letters to a stranger?”
He shrugged, uncomfortable.
“Surely you have a reason.I want to hear it.”
“I don’t know why I did it,” he said honestly.“Maybe I was lonely.I wanted to share my thoughts with someone, and you… seemed to appreciate the effort.”
“You had no one else to write to?”
“No one special.”
“How was I special?You’d never met me.”
He searched his memory and settled on a single image.“Mike had a photo of you pinned to the wall by his bunk.”
Her gaze narrowed.“What photo?”
Jason wondered if Natalie had sent Mike any sexy pictures.Mike certainly hadn’t displayed photos like that or passed them around for his comrades to see.“It was you with Marcus when he was a baby.You were cradling him, smiling down at him.It was very natural.Motherly.”
She glanced away, seeming melancholy.“Did I remind you of your mother?”
“Yes,” he admitted.He hoped she wouldn’t take offense to the comparison or find it even weirder than his inappropriate fixation on another man’s wife.Natalie looked nothing like his mother, though they were both beautiful and dark-haired.It was more about the serene, caring essence she exuded.
“So you were lonely,” she said in a curt tone.“You didn’t have a mommy to send you care packages or a girlfriend to read your letters.Did you stare at my photo and pretend I was yours?”
He flushed at the accusation.“I knew who you belonged to.”
“Did you read the letters I wrote to Mike?”
“He didn’t share all of them.”
“But he shared some, right?Because it was a conversation.An exchange.”
