Page 106 of A Dark Fall
“Alex, I know you fucking hate me right now and hurt, and I don’t blame you for it—it’s what I deserve. But I need you to know the truth about what you saw today, and if you come upstairs with me, I can show you and explain.” His tone is beseeching now.
I blink at that.Show me?What the hell can he have to show me?
“Show me what? The scene of the crime? I saw that this afternoon.” I fold my arms and turn away from him.
“Please, Alex.”
“And if I say no?” I ask.
“Then I’ll take you home right now or call you a taxi. Whatever you want.”
I whip my head around to face him. “You weren’t so reasonable ten minutes ago when you threatened to force me into the car. What’s changed?” My voice is so hard and cold I barely recognize it.
“I know.” He looks ashamed now, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Fuck, Alex, I never want to force you to do anything. I never wanted any of this.” His voice cracks slightly. He sounds so sincere.
I can’t think straight again. He’s doing it again.
“Is she still up there?” I ask.
His eyes widen in shock before narrowing with confusion. “No, of course not.” He shakes his head.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Don’t I need to know everything? Every truth he keeps promising me. When I unbuckle my seat belt, he does the same, watching me intently as I open the door and step out of his car. I walk ahead of him into the foyer, and once we’re in the elevator, I try so hard not to look at him.
I fail.
He’s staring at me intensely, eyes filled with concern. It unsettles me that a large portion of my anger is gone. That I feel more tired than anything. More resigned.
He gets out first, and I follow him to the door of his apartment, which, bizarrely, isn’t locked. He holds open the door, and I walk through to the living room.
Sitting on the sofa is a large man who looks vaguely familiar as he stands. I remember then that he was one of the guys from the club that night. He helped throw Matt out. He looks surprised to see us as he flicks the TV off with the remote and turns to nod at Jake.
“Cheers, Paul,” Jake says. “You can head back, mate.”
Paul nods. “Guessing we won’t be seeing you down there later.” He inclines his head in my direction.
Jake shakes his head then follows Paul to the front door. From my stance in the living room, I watch him show Paul out and lock the door before coming back toward me.
When he’s a few feet away, he stops and slides his hands deep into his pockets as he stares at me. I fold my arms again, giving him an expectant look.He takes a deep breath and walks toward me, stopping only when he’s close enough that I can smell him, but not so close that I can feel the heat of him.
“Alex, I’ve kept things from you, I know that. Important things ...” He hesitates and rubs the back of his neck. “But I need you to know, it wasn’t because I wanted to hurt you. Fuck, I never wanted that.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to tell you so many times ...”
“You wanted to tell me what?” My voice sounds so small. So afraid.
He reaches out to touch me, but I withdraw from him again as the fear crawls over me.He looks as if I’ve injured him by pulling away, but he nods as though he understands.
“I was gonna tell you eventually. I ... Fuck ...” His voice is raw and so utterly unlike him. It does nothing to chase away the fear building inside me.
Jake offers me a small, sad smile and then turns toward the room off the living room—the one he called his spare room.He stops when his hand is on the handle and looks back, his eyes beckoning me forward. For a moment, I can only stand there, immobile and utterly confused, until my feet finally begin to move toward him.
He turns the handle gently and pushes open the door. The room is in almost complete darkness, but there’s a small blue glow coming from a night-light on a chest of drawers to my right. As my eye moves around the room, I have to stifle the noise threatening to escape my mouth.
There in the corner, in a small white wooden bed, is a little boy, fast asleep. He’s about three years old and has Jake’s nose and full, plump mouth.
The resemblance is unmistakable. This is Jake’s child. The features are almost all Jake’s, except in miniature—the full mouth, the long, dark eyelashes, and the long, straight nose. He even has the adorable sleep pout Jake does. I wonder what color his eyes are. His hair is blonde though, lighter than Jake’s, but children’s hair often darkens as they get older. He’s hugging a soft toy lion tightly to his chest as he dreams whatever children dream of.
When I look up at Jake, he isn’t looking at his son; he’s watching me.
I drop my eyes again to the bed. I don’t even know how I feel. It feels as if I’ve been punched full force in the chest, my heart crushed beneath shattered bones. It feels like a new kind of heartbreak, and I’m not entirely sure why. I stare at the little boy for a few seconds more before walking quietly out of the bedroom and taking a seat on the sofa in the living room.