Splintered Oak (Winsor Series Book 3) (24 page)

28. FALLING

NAOMI

I
was pretty sure I was still in shock when we pulled up to the hotel. I had never in my life been so afraid, even when Robbie came after me.

At least then I had been able to defend myself. But when Jake traveled at speeds exceeding one hundred, weaving through traffic like a mad man, I truly thought he was going to kill us both.

I had seen Jake upset before, had even seen him angry, but I had never seen him completely lose control. Like watching a train wreck, I could only stare and do nothing to stop it.

“We’re this way,” Jake said as he opened my car door. He had our hotel keys and led me to the elevators and up to the second floor. I could see him watching me closely, handling me carefully. “This one is yours. I’m next door.”

I nodded and walked in to sit on the bed, still trying to wrap my head around the last thirty minutes. Jake softly shut the door behind us and knelt in front of me.

“I need
you to say something, Naomi. I can’t handle that look on your face. It’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to process what just happened. You were…I don’t know, Jake. You were…something.” I couldn’t seem to find the words to describe his face—the agony, the desperation.

“I know I have issues; that’s why I’m in counseling. What you saw was me not coping well, that’s all. I would never hurt you.” His voice was pleading, and my heart constricted a little as I watched his sorrowful eyes.

“Jake, what I saw was not normal. It was like you were possessed. I couldn’t pull you back, no matter what I said or did. You were gone.”

Jake wrapped his arms around my waist and laid his head against my stomach, hugging me tightly. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready. Bruce and I prepared for every other situation, but not for that. Not for what he told me.”

He just stayed there, holding me and I couldn’t help but run my hands through his hair. “What did he say that set you off?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, tickling my side as he snuggled against me. “Just keep doing that.”

“Jake. Come on.”

He finally let go and stood before joining me on the bed. He took my hand in his, watching me closely, searching my eyes for something.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked as he pulled my hand up for a kiss. “I know this thing between us is new for you and I don’t have the best track record with relationships. But you have to know it’s different with you. My biggest fear is I’m going to ruin it before it even starts.”

He looked so sad, so nervous, that I couldn’t help but smile a little. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips over his, for comfort, reassurance. “I’m not mad. You scared me. Now I need you to talk to me. Help me understand you.”

Jake sighed, waited a beat, and then finally opened up. “He said he tried to contact me, said he had been trying for ten years and that he has letters to prove it. He said my mom wouldn’t let him see me, that she lied to me. I refuse to accept that. My mom would never have been so cruel. She knew how much I wanted to know him.”

My heart broke at his sadness, his denial. I didn’t know his father or his mother, but I couldn’t imagine why his father would make that up after all this time. I prayed for wisdom, for guidance.

“Maybe it hurt too much to see him.”

“No. My mom was perfect. She was the strongest, most giving person I knew. She wouldn’t have kept me from him for herself. If she did do it, and I’m not saying she did, the decision was for me. She loved me.”

I squeezed his hand, knowing any other speculation on his mom would be pointless. “So what now? It sounds like he wants a relationship with you. No matter what happened in the past, you have this possibility now. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. If she thought I shouldn’t know him, it was for a reason. I’m not going to betray her memory by starting something now.” His mind was made up. I could tell by the determined set of his jaw.

“Maybe you should call Bruce. Tell him what happened today,” I offered.

Jake just scooted closer, pulling me to himself. “I don’t need Bruce. I just need you. I need you to tell me you forgive me, to look at me like you did this morning.”

“I do forgive you, but I’m not equipped for this, Jake. I don’t know what to say or do to help you.”

It was hard to tell if he heard me because he began kissing my neck and running his hand through my hair. The intensity of the day seemed to charge the moment, taking me by surprise when a fire ignited in my stomach. The heat moved up as he skimmed by my ear, his breath sending wonderful and dangerous tingles through my body.

“Just kiss me, touch me. You affect me so much more than you’ll ever know.” His whispers sent shivers through my body that exploded when he passionately took my mouth in his.

His touch was electric, his lips so soft. I wanted to fall, fall completely into the moment. The bed cushioned my back as the weight of his body moved over mine.

I finally understood the warnings, the conversations my mother had with me about temptation and lust. I understood because every nerve ending in my body screamed for Jake to keep kissing me, to touch me. Even as his hand drifted under my shirt to rub the soft bare skin of my torso, I couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop.

Then my mother’s words filled my mind as if we’d had the conversation yesterday:

Sex and lust are beautiful things, Naomi. They’re gifts. They’re designed to bring closeness, passion, and pleasure to those involved. It’s an important, special thing. So important that it should never be taken lightly or given freely. Because when sex happens between two people who are one flesh, it becomes more than a gift, Naomi. It becomes a miracle.

Her words left my head, but not my heart. This wasn’t right. Not for me and not for him.

“Jake,” I said,
easing him back as I tried to sit up.

He didn’t move except to look deeply into my eyes. “Don’t stop this, Naomi. You wanted to help me. This helps me – knowing you care, knowing you still feel this way for me.”

I could see the lust, the desire I had allowed to stir. But even more, I could see the desperation and knew without question that stopping would be as much for him as for me.

He went back to kissing me deeply, his lips begging for a response, but my conviction was solid. Pushing at him again, more forcefully this time, I turned my head. “I don’t want to do this. Not now.”

His body went rigid as he bolted off of me and the bed. “I thought you cared,” he accused, watching as I pulled my shirt back down and stood to face him.

“I do care.” I turned, pointing to the rumpled bed. “This is not a solution, Jake. It’s an escape. I won’t be that for you.”

He came back to me, capturing my face in his hands. “You’re wrong. You help me. You are my light; you make everything better. When I touch you, I feel good, strong, worthy. You can save me, Naomi. You already have in so many ways. I am changing for you, for us.”

He searched my eyes as they filled with tear
s. How had I missed it? How had I not seen what was happening?

“Jake, I can’t be your salvation, I’m not strong enough. No one is. No one but Christ. You’ve put me in a position I cannot fill.”

He jumped back as if I had slapped him. “You don’t want me anymore.”

I tried to go to him, to make him understand. “That’s not it.”

He backed away from me, his face cold and accusing. “No, I can see it in your eyes. The way you look at me now. I don’t need your pity, Naomi.” He grabbed his keys from the desk.

“When are you going to stop running, Jake? From me, from the truth, from your past? When will it stop? You thought it was Avery, and now it’s me. When are you going to see that you are the only one who has the ability to stop pain? When are you going to surrender to the only One who can truly help you?” I was yelling at him, desperate to keep him from walking out that door.

He just stared at me, hurt, pain, and anger radiating from him before he turned and stormed out.

“You promised you wouldn’t walk away!” I screamed, but my cries were drowned out by the slamming of the door.

I dropped to the floor and cried. Cried for Jake, for me, and for the guilt that consumed me. I’d slipped away from my convictions, from the promises I had made to myself and to God. I’d been lying to everyone, including myself, thinking only of what I wanted.

Look where it got me. Jake was more confused and hurt than ever, and I was stuck in Atlanta. Alone.

My phone rang from my purse, and I lunged.

“Jake?” I didn’t bother
to look at the caller ID.

“No shorty, but while we’re on the subject,
maybe you can tell me where he is. Your other roommate, David, doesn’t seem to know, and I have a few choice words to say to the guy.”

My heart stopped, nausea hitting my stomach the minute he said David’s name. I should have known Jonathan would tell and wait for the worst time.

“Alex?”

“You’ve got some explaining to do. Where are you?” His voice was harsh, cold, and he sounded ready to kill.

My hands began to shake. Not because I feared him or because he would be mad at me, although I knew he would. I cried because I knew how disappointed he would be in me when I told him.

“Shorty, stop stalling. Where are you?”

“I’m in Atlanta.”

29.
MISTAKES

JAKE

Hurt, confusion, and anger propelled me forward as I stepped out of the elevator and away from Naomi’s words. I wasn’t walking away. She had already left me; left the minute things got too hard, just like they always did.

“Where’s the best place to get a drink this time of day?” I impatiently asked the clerk behind the hotel counter.

He cleared his throat, fully aware of the rage on my face. “Um, the Hilton across the street has a lounge that’s pretty packed during happy hour.”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

I stormed out the front and made my way across the small two-lane road. No need for a car, even better.

The lounge was as fancy as its hosting hotel, and filled with young professionals still in their suits from the day. The women noticed me as I strolled through the place, watching as I focused on the empty seat at the bar. I didn’t want their stares or their appreciation. I wanted a drink. Several drinks. I wanted to drink enough to make me forget the fear in Naomi’s eyes, or the way her hands felt against my skin. Her smell and those soft, amazing lips. I wanted it all seared from my memory. 

“Jameson, and make it a double,” I told the bartender when he approached me for my order.

“You got it,” he replied, grabbing a glass.

“I don’t want this glass empty.”

He just nodded and set the tumbler in front of me. His look said he understood. Of course he did. How many other suckers come in here day after day hoping to forget all the problems in their lives? Too many to count, I’m sure.

The whiskey did little to drown my sorrow, but its bite did start to ease the tension I carried in my neck and back. I scanned the room, making eye contact with several of the patrons. Women
were so aggressive these days that I didn’t have to work too hard before I spotted a sure thing.

Her suit coat was unbuttoned past the appropriate point, exposing a black silk camisole. She fiddled with the lace on it as she watched me and smiled seductively. She was pretty and she knew it, re-crossing her legs so I wouldn’t miss how long and lean they are.

Nausea filled my gut and I turned away in disgust. There was no way I could touch that after having experienced something so pure. Thinking of the flush on Naomi’s cheeks when I touched her ripped another hole through my gut.

More whiskey, I thought, and downed another glass. Searching out the neglectful bartender, I spotted a female version of myself across the bar.

She was sipping her own mind eraser, as Issy would call it, and I caught a tear roll down her face before she quickly wiped it away. Her blond hair hung down her back, straight, with just a few strands that fell over her shoulders as she leaned down to take a drink. She wasn’t in a suit, but jeans and a cotton shirt meant more for comfort than style. 

Drawn to her pain, I slid into the seat next to her. She looked up momentarily, but quickly went back to her drink, not saying a word.

“Looks like we have a lot in common tonight,” I noted as she hailed the bartender over to fill her empty glass.

She let out a sarcastic snort. “Really? Your husband just told you that he’d made a mistake? That marriage isn’t for him? That he’s met someone else and been with her for three months, which I find remarkable since we’ve only been married for four.” Her tears fell again as she bitterly told her story.

“I’m sorry.”

“As if you’d know anything about that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She glanced at me again, shaking her head. “Yeah, I bet. You look like the kind of guy who gets his heart broken often. Those eyes must drive the women away in droves.”

She was funny, even if it was meant to be a slam, but her words brought a sadness I wasn’t prepared for. “No one is immune, even green-eyed jerks like me.” I started to move away, not wanting to add to her grief.

Her hand touched mine, stopping me. “Don’t go. I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I seem to be doing that to everyone lately.”

I settled back in the seat, nodding at the bartender as he filled my glass again. “When did it happen?”

“Two days ago. I’d been suspicious longer, but denial is a beautiful thing when you need it to be. Refusing to look as desperate as I felt, I packed a bag and left him. Two days here in this hotel, waiting. Not even a phone call. Talk about pathetic.”

Her agony covered her face as she wiped another tear. I reached out to rub her back, unable to stop myself. I moved my hand to her hair, moving those few strands back behind her shoulder again. “You’re not pathetic,” I whispered, watching her eyes fill with more tears.

There was something about her face, so openly showing her pain, that drew me in and made me want to hold her. To let her hold me. I took my thumb and lightly rubbed away the tears that had slipped down her cheek.

“Who are you?” she whispered, watching me closely. The vulnerability in her eyes called to me.

“Someone who understands,” I answered right before I kissed the very spot I had just wiped. 

“I have a room,” she blurted out and then covered her mouth as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said those words out loud.

I removed her hand and grinned, disarming her. She continued to stare as I ran my fingers softly along her hairline. “Lead the way.”

She told the bartender to charge her room as I paid the tab I had opened, leaving a generous tip. She looked nervous when we stepped into the elevator, but I took her hand in mine and pulled her back to me, touching her neck so softly she let out a gasp.

“I never do this,” she whispered, lost in the intensity of my touch. I knew just what to do to drive her crazy, to make her forget all her pain.

“I know.”

She was flushed and panting by the time we got to her room, making it easy to push her up against the wall and start kissing her with all the pent up emotion I couldn’t take anymore. I felt my clothes give as she gripped my back and then began unbuttoning my shirt. Flipping her around so we could make our way toward the bed, I felt desperate to be near her, to touch. Her hands flew up to my hair, running her fingers through it as she pulled me closer.

Like having a dream, Naomi popped in my mind, my head on her lap as she caressed my hair with love, with compassion, with trust.

I froze and backed away, leaving the woman staring at me, confusion clouding her face.

Another scene popped in my head – Bruce’s calm posture as he talked to me.

You
re-create trauma, Jake, hoping for a different outcome when it’s over. But the pain, the loss, it won’t go away that easily.

My heart started racing as I watched her stricken face.

What am I doing?

“Are you okay?” she asked, coming toward me.

I was shaking, unable to stand the awareness I now had when I looked at her. “I’m sorry,” I stammered and backed up to the door. “I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right.”

She watched me as rejection flashed in her eyes, adding to the pain. Guilt ripped through my chest, taking my breath with it. I barely remembered making it out the door and into the elevator. I couldn’t get my breathing under control and knew an anxiety attack was soon to follow.

I had to find Naomi, apologize. Make her take me back. I would do whatever she wanted me to do, say whatever she wanted to me to say.

I stumbled across the street, the massive amount of whiskey dulling my mind and my ability to walk in a straight line. The hotel loomed ahead of me, and I forced away the dizziness as I approached the drive up lane out front. Then she was there, like a mirage in a dry desert, watching me. I tried to get my eyes to focus, but couldn’t see anything past those beautiful brown eyes. Straightening up, I reached out to touch her cheek, to see if she was real.

“Naomi.” The very sound of her name calmed the panic swirling inside like a storm preparing for release. She stared up at me, tears filling her eyes. She looked sad. I had made her sad. Reaching out to take her hand, I said the only words that came to my mind.

“I love you.”