Page 45 of Bursting With Love
“And that’s when the accident happened. Jesus, no wonder he’s haunted.” Savannah remembered the anguish she’d seen in his eyes when he told her that he wasn’t sure if he could move beyond his past.
“It’s worse than that, Vanny. He’s the one who found her.”
“Oh, God, Treat. That’s awful.” She ached for what Jack must be living with every moment of every day.
“How much do you like this guy, Savannah?”
“I don’t know. A lot,” she said honestly.
“Well, then, all I can do is support whatever you want to do. It seems like he’s a good man with really shitty luck. So you tell me, what can I do to help you? Do you want me to talk you out of thinking about him?” He spoke with a serious tone, but Savannah recognized the tease in the way his eyes lit up.
“You know I won’t listen,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not contacting him and he hasn’t contacted me, so this whole thing will blow over and I’ll be left nursing another broken heart. I’m getting pretty good at that.”
Treat stood and pulled her into his arms. She relaxed against him, needing the security of his strength. It forced her to admit the thought she hadn’t wanted to breathe life into.
“This broken heart feels a hell of a lot different from any other I’ve ever had.”
Chapter Twenty
JACK SAT ON the back deck of his chalet as the afternoon shifted into evening. The brisk air prickled his skin as he listened to the crickets, tree frogs, and other night sounds of the seven acres that buffered his chalet from the rest of the world, contemplating how he was going to approach his future. Every time he thought of calling Elise, his mind traveled to his brother Rush, and his gut tightened. Rush had never understood Jack’s need to disengage from the life he knew and the family he loved. After Linda’s death, Rush had tried to be supportive, and the more Jack fought his support, the colder Rush became. The last few times Jack had seen him, Rush had reminded him that if he hadn’t been so fucking wrapped up in himself, he wouldn’t have let Linda go out in the storm. Jack saw red, and he’d finally called Rush for what he was. You’re a spoiled womanizer who wouldn’t know how it felt to love if it kicked you in the ass, let alone how it feels to lose the one you love. He’d been so angry that he’d taken it even further. If I never see you again, it’ll be soon enough.
He eyed the phone on the table by the glass doors. All it would take was one phone call. Elise would come and pick up Linda’s clothes, and he could be done with it and finally move forward. Jack’s gut told him otherwise. He couldn’t move forward with any sense of normalcy with his family chaos looming over him.
Jack rose to his feet and walked to the edge of the woods, feeling the call to walk in and disappear or fly back up to the mountains for another month. He’d been tempted to tell Savannah about the cabin in Colorado that he’d called home for the past few years, but fear had held him back. The attraction to Savannah had been so intense, so potent from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, that it had scared the shit out of him. He’d tried hard to deny it, but it was too strong. His resolve had cracked and he’d let Savannah in. Way in. But the cabin was sacred. It was his hideaway, the one place he didn’t have to worry about seeing Linda’s ghost, since he’d bought it after she’d passed away. Not even his family knew where it was. He wasn’t ready to expose the only safety net he had. What if I can’t pull my shit together?
Savannah’s face flashed in his mind, and he felt his heart opening. A smile stretched across his face with the thought of her. He reached up and ran his finger along the curve of his lips, disbelieving that the emotion could be felt in this of all places. The place that had thrust him so deeply into guilt and anger that he’d had to run away. Happiness. Even the thought of it felt odd in his mind. Jack laughed, a quick, unexpected laugh, then turned back toward the chalet.
“Son of a bitch,” he said with another slight laugh. He headed inside, feeling a rush of strength, and picked up the phone.
For a minute Jack stared at the receiver, playing out how he might acknowledge his brother when he called. Hey, Rush. It’s me, Jack. Or, Rush, hey, it’s Jack. Picking up the phone to call his brother should have been a simple act. So why was his chest constricting, and his jaw clenched? Why did he feel his body slip into some sort of defensive state with every nerve strung tight? Because every time he thought of Rush, he saw his father’s stoic face right behind him.
