Ghost of a Promise (19 page)

He pressed himself against her back and ran his hands down her arms. “
I don
’
t know what to do here, Ava.
”

Like she did? Yes, she wanted marriage and kids as much as she resolved she couldn
’
t have them, but she knew as much about relationships as he did. Not that this was a relationship. Because it wasn
’
t.

“
It
’
s fine, Jackson, like I said.
”

“
You said it meant something to you. It did to me, too.
”

She wondered if it was so ingrained in him to please, to put up these fake fronts that the words easily left his mouth in automation. But when she turned in his arms and recognized his tight expression, her irritation fled. He meant it. Which meant she needed distance.

“
Dinner is done.
”

He stared at her through hooded eyes so long she had to fight the urge to squirm. Eventually, he ran a hand through his hair and looked over her shoulder out the window. Yet he didn
’
t move, the energy thrumming between them.

“
You feel like home,
”
he said.

Her mouth fell open before she had the good grace to close it.

“
I know that
’
s not saying much coming from a guy who
’
s never had a sense of home, but there it is. You feel like home to me. I don
’
t know what to do with that or with you.
”

As if he hadn
’
t just dropped two tons of bricks over her head, he ladled soup for both of them, plated the sandwiches, and sat at the island on a stool. Once the shock receded, anger surged. How dare he? Saying the things she would
’
ve killed to hear from someone. From any man. As if reading what was in her heart and throwing it back at her. She
’
d never been anyone
’
s version of home and he knew it.

“
Next time, I
’
d appreciate it if you kept your thoughts to yourself.
”

He dropped his spoon into his bowl and glared at her through those freakin
’
amazing blue eyes.
“
I
’
m trying to be honest with you, Ava.
”

She laughed without mirth.

“
You think I
’
m lying?
”

Now he sounded as angry as her. Good. Except her pulse tripped because she just learned he got quiet when angry. Deathly, eerily quiet.

“
I think you
’
ve been lying to yourself so long that you don
’
t know what the truth is anymore.
”

He was off his stool, around the island, and had her pinned to the counter before she could so much as gasp. He grabbed her hand and fitted her palm over his chest.
“
You feel that, Ava? My heart pounds whenever you
’
re in the same damn room. And when you
’
re not, it stops dead.
”
He grabbed her other hand and pressed it over her own chest.
“
The same as yours does for me. I see it beating through the pulse in your neck. That
’
s not a lie. That
’
s truth. It goes beyond a physical reaction and you know it. Who
’
s lying now?
”

He dropped his hands, stepped back, and blew out a breath. She gripped the counter behind her to keep from falling. After several long minutes, he returned to his stool and calmly ate his soup.

The only thing she could think to do was run. Which was hilariously ironic because that was Jackson
’
s expertise. Still, she straightened and walked out of the room on shaking legs, coward that she was. Blessedly, he didn
’
t try to stop her.

Needing purpose, she collected the empty boxes from the living room and opened the door to the cubby below the grand staircase. She shoved the boxes in and closed the door before returning to the living room to be sure she got them all.

Her gaze landed on the Christmas tree, the one Jackson helped her decorate, lit by hundreds of twinkling colored lights. He
’
d put on a good portion of the ornaments. Had pulled the tree from the cubby space and assembled it. Strung the lights with her as if they were a real couple looking forward to celebrating together. Like a family.

Except there wouldn
’
t be any presents under this tree because her family was afraid of this house. There wouldn
’
t be any Jackson come Christmas either.

The lights blurred together as her eyes welled. Her chest constricted.
Stupid, stupid
. Letting a man in, especially knowing the man was Jackson. Everything he was and wasn’
t, could and couldn
’
t offer. Temporary.

She was falling for him anyway.

A comforting hand smoothed down the length of her hair and she pinched her eyes closed, not wanting Jackson to see how much he hurt her. Not wanting him to see the tears. In a little over a week, she
’
d have to let him go. So depending on him now would only kill her later. She drew in a deep breath to center herself.

And smelled lavender.

Her eyes flew open. She spun around.

A thin, white mist hovered a foot away. A chill seeped from the vapor-like formation, but not obtrusive or threatening. In fact, Ava got the distinct impression Sarah Kerrick was right in front of her, trying to manifest and offer comfort. The scent of lavender grew stronger seconds before the mist started to disappear.

Her hands shook. Her lip trembled.

Holy crap.
She’
d heard others talk about the mist, but she
’
d never seen it herself.

“
Thank you,
” Ava said quickly before it could completely dissolve, hoping Sarah heard.

…

Jackson cleaned up the kitchen after Ava walked out and then flipped through the TV channels in the living room, not seeing a damn thing. Giving up, he tossed the remote on the table and paced the room. All he could see was the pained skepticism on Ava’
s face. Served him right for trying to be more than what he was. Truly, what did a lout like him know about feelings? Her reaction was warranted and spot-on. He couldn
’
t fault Ava for her response. But damn, it hurt she didn
’t believe him.

Like nothing else ever had.

He glared at the ceiling. She’
d gone up to her apartment sometime between storming out on him and him trying to choke down the soup she made. He was torn between not wanting to waste what little time they had together and keeping the distance as it now stood. No good could come from him running up the stairs, apologizing, and making love to her again.

Making love. Not sex.

Could it be? Could that be the reason for the crater-sized hole in his chest? The sour stomach wanting to revolt? For the need to be near her every second, hear her laugh? Could he possibly
…
love Ava?

Nope. He quashed that thought dead.

He did owe her an apology, though. She was right after all. He should
’
ve kept his thoughts to himself. He checked the alarms, turned out the lights and went into the kitchen to make her a small platter of cheese and crackers with fruit. She hadn
’
t eaten at all and he was the cause. He hoped his small offering marginally squared things.

He called out to her from the third-floor landing.

“
Come in. I
’
m in my room.
”

He walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame. She was sitting against the headboard under a mound of blankets, reading a book. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair in a high ponytail. She looked so normal, so domestic, that he could only stare in fascination. This was what she did before bed. Read a book with a steaming cup of tea next to her. Was this what normal people did?

She glanced at the plate in his hand.

Right. The peace offering.

“
Thought you might be hungry.
”
He shoved off the doorframe and walked closer. He set the plate on her nightstand next to her tea and looked at her book.
“
I
’
m interrupting. I
’
ll go.
”

“
You
’
re not interrupting. I
’
ve read the same paragraph ten times and still haven
’
t absorbed a word.
”
She set the book aside.
“
Thanks
…
for the snack.
”

Seemed she was always thanking him.

Instead of leaving, he stared at her, trying to form the words to apologize.
“
I didn
’
t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just
…”
He blew out a breath, ran his hand through his hair.
“
I
’
m sorry.
”

She patted the bed next to her so he
’
d sit. He did, his hip brushing hers.
“
Did you mean it? What you said?
”

Hell, she still thought he was lying. If only.
“
Yes. Still, I shouldn
’
t have said anything.
”

She studied him before speaking.
“
Here
’
s the thing. You
’
re not used to communicating your feelings. You probably don
’
t even know how to acknowledge them. Telling me what you did took an obscene amount of courage. I shouldn
’
t have jumped down your throat.
”

He wondered if she recognized the implications in what she just said. That he didn
’
t know how to express his emotions, yet he
’
d tried. With her. He wondered if she felt a measure of what he
’
d been feeling in return. If she was intuitive enough to see beyond his walls, surely she figured out he was in deep.

He looked away and swallowed.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
she said, forcing his gaze back to hers.

He shook his head.
“
You
’
re just doing the logical thing, Ava. Protecting yourself. We both knew what we were getting into and that it would come to an end. Changing the rules now was unfair of me. It won
’
t happen again.
”

“
Don
’
t do that,
”
she hissed, a spark of that temper in her eyes.
“
Don
’
t shut yourself down because of these circumstances. You
’
re missing out on your life by doing that.
”

What would she have him do? Let go of the ledge he
’
d been hanging by and plunge? He
’
d rather run. It was what he knew best. What he was good at.

He rose and glanced around the room to avoid her seething glare and her all-knowing eyes. She already saw way too damn much. Her bedroom had little trinkets and baubles that reflected so much of her personality. A smiling frog. An angry fairy. History books mingled with literature. He had to get out of there.

“
I
’
ll see you in the morning.
”

He got as far as the door before she threw out,
“
Never pegged you as a coward.
”

Bloody hell. Gauntlet thrown.

“
You know what, Ava?” He whirled.
“
I am a coward. I
’
ll admit that. What choice is there? You
’
re the one who told me it was the mansion or a family. And my life isn
’
t here.
”

The fire in her gray-blue eyes was such a turn on.
“
You
’
re life isn
’
t anywhere, Jackson. You flitter around from place to place because it
’
s easier than staying. Heaven forbid you connect or feel.
”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Ground his teeth.
“
You don
’
t want to know what I
’
m feeling. You really don
’
t. I should
’
ve stayed away from you. On that account, you were correct.
”

“
The Brit is back,
”
she snarled.

He hadn
’
t even realized he slipped back into the accent. Hell, he needed the shield. She was like an air-raid strike right at his solar plexus. He opened his eyes when she launched a new attack on his morals only to find her scrambling off the bed and
…

Wearing his T-shirt.

Well, hell. Wasn
’
t this a turn of events?

He cut off her rant mid-sentence.
“
You
’
re wearing my shirt.
”

She snapped her mouth shut and quizzically glanced down.
“
Yes. You left it up here this morning. You yanked the buttons off my pajamas last night and I need to do laundry. My other pairs are dirty.
”

He fisted his hands at his sides.
“
Nice try, Ava.” He forced the British accent away. His fight-or-flight reflexes waned at her standing there. The black tee hit her mid-thigh and hid her curves as if wearing nothing more attractive than a hospital gown. At least, that
’
s what his brain tried to relay. There was something so bloody sexy about seeing a woman in a man
’
s shirt and nothing else. About
Ava
in
his
shirt…