Page 51 of Isabelle & Jason
What was he saying? She wasn’t any different.
“Slow down,” he said, his voice full of pained restraint.
When she stilled, he released her arms and brought his hands up to her face. His thumbs brushed at the tears that wetted her cheeks. “What happened?”
Isabelle searched his face. For a split second she considered telling him that she felt she was drowning. That all around her was an endless void of pain. But then she got her head on straight. No one wanted to be with someone who was weak. “Nothing,” she snapped. “Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “That wasn’t you.”
Irritation. Pain. Frustration. Embarrassment.
All of those emotions fought for dominance.
She tore away from him and folded her arms. “How dare you.”
“Isabelle,” he said quietly as if he were attempting to coax a rabid animal. And perhaps that was what she had become. But she refused to let him treat her that way. She was his equal.
“No,” she bit out. “If you don’t want to kiss me, then?—”
“Youknowthat’s not what this is about,” he ground out, his tone edged with annoyance. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
His head reared back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She huffed. “I saw the tension between you and Mark. You guys get in fights. And you know I was having ice cream with Charlie. I don’t have to tell you everything, just like you don’t have to tell me everything.”
19
Jason
Jason gawked at the woman he’d fallen in love with. She was deflecting. On some deep level, he could understand that. This was one of the surefire ways that she used to change the subject when she didn’t want to talk about the hard stuff.
“Isabelle—” he started, but she cut him off.
“Whatever. Clearly, I’m right. You don’t want to talk about whatever went on between you and your friend. I don’t want to talk about Charlie and me. So, let’s leave it at that.”
He took a step toward her. “Will you stop that?” His voice was sharper than he’d intended and she flinched, putting some distance between them. No. He wasn’t going to let her do that. Not here. Not now. She’d sought him out, not the other way around.
His arm reached out, and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Talk to me, Isabelle. You’re never going to figure this out if you don’t work through it.”
Isabelle ripped away from him. “When did you become a therapist?” she snarled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This is my business, not yours. When it involves you, I’ll let you know. Stop trying to fix me!”
He scowled at her. Isabelle’s words were making contact with the weakest parts of him. Was it possible that she was right? He’d been so intent on trying to help her through her trauma that he’d prioritized that part of their growing relationship.
There was some part of her that must have taken note.
Their standoff resembled two predators sizing each other up. He was on edge. She was wounded and refused to accept his help.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine? You’ll leave me alone?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “That’s what you want, right? Go on. Destroy yourself little by little. Because what do I know about healing from trauma?”
Her shoulders slumped slightly as if all the tension fled. “Jason?—”
“No. It’s my turn to talk. You’re self-destructive. You’re never going to get to a good place if all you’re going to do is drown yourself in your pain and refuse help. That’s it, right? You and Charlie got into an argument about something you’re too scared to talk about. And your claws came out.”
