Page 79 of You Didn't Know Me Then

Chapter 30

It wasn’t a curveball, after all; it was a wrecking ball that knocked him off his axis altogether.

Though she believed him and had said he was beating himself needlessly over what had happened, she still believed that he was so different than her, so unable to be any different than what he was. And she didn’t want him in her life. She had children, and he didn’t fit into her life. She needed someone who wasn’t him.

Her face … Her honest, open, beautiful face told him everything. He could see the determination, that nothing he said now would change it. He could see that she wanted to reach out, he could see that she resisted it, he could see that if he grabbed now and kissed her, she would let him. She would even kiss him back. However, it wouldn’t change her mind. And it wouldn’t be fair. Because her heart was entangled.

It was all too fragile, and he had known it from the start.

“Say something, Jordan.”

He chewed the inside of his lip and looked away before he brought his eyes back to hers. They were a deep forest that he could get lost in.

“You wouldn’t want to hear what I really want to say, Hope. You wouldn’t like it. It’d go against what you just asked me to do.”

“It’s the right thing, Jordan, and you know it. That’s why you didn’t contact me after that kiss in your kitchen—because you knew even then that what I say now is true.”

Jesus, it stung. It motherfucking hurt so bad that he was glad the wall was there to lean against. She was right, of course. And it seemed that every fear of his, every sin of his, came back to haunt him eventually. He had known from the start that he shouldn’t sully her, that she wouldn’t come out of it unscathed. Now he had this to carry, too—not only the pain of losing her, of losing the hope, but the knowledge that he had caused her pain.

“It’s the right thing,” she repeated, half-mumbling it to herself. “I shouldn’t have let it …”

The only good thing he could do for her now wasn’t to tell her that he loved her, like he was dying to do, but to let her go. Not perpetuate this or the damage.

“I’m sorry for everything, Hope. For the mess, for involving you in this, for letting things get … Tell the girls …” He stopped. He had no right. None. “Just tell them I said hi.”

She bit her lower lip, and he could see that tears were clouding her eyes.

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He reached out and ran his thumb under her eyes. A tear that she didn’t let fall wet his fingers.

She closed her eyes, and he leaned in, kissing her forehead. “Bye, Hope. I’m sorry,” he said against her skin, breathing in the smell of her hair.

She didn’t lean in, just stood there, planted on her stand. He wanted to hug her, but it would only prolong the torture.

He dropped his hands to his sides and moved back.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Bye, Jordan.”

He nodded once, and she turned to walk back to her car. They glanced at each other once before she got in and drove off.

The melted rock in his chest congealed again as he turned toward his rental.

His phone rang just as he climbed in.

“Luke, meet me at Mom’s if you want. I’d better not come over to yours with Liberty there. It’s over, and I don’t want to cause issues for you and her. Hope will talk to her, you will talk to me, and I don’t want this thing to come between you. There’s been enough damage.”

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