Page 95 of A Dark Fall
“You know why,” is what I say. It’s the same answer he gave me the first night we were together. When I asked him why he named his club after the place we met.
He offers me a strange, sad look and turns his eyes back to the road. We drive the rest of the way home in silence. I’m fully awake now, the soft hum of contentment gone. My stomach churns loudly with fear and love and confusion, and every time I chance a look at him, he looks equally anxious. His hands grip the steering wheel hard while he nibbles away at the inside of his lip.
By the time we pull into my driveway, the tension has built to an almost oppressive level. The car is stuffy with it, and I can’t breathe properly.
As soon as he turns the engine off, I get out of the car immediately, desperate for some air. I’m almost at the front door when I realize he isn’t following me. I turn around to see him standing by the driver’s side with his hands deep in his pockets, staring at me. My heart constricts at the sight of him there, so faraway.
“Aren’t you coming in?” I ask. I think maybe I sound desperate, and I hate that I do. But then I think maybe I am desperate.
He says nothing for a moment, and I think he’s about to refuse. I’m almost certain he’s going to get back in the car and leave altogether. But then he walks toward me, steely gaze trained on me. When he’s close enough I have to look up to see his face, I find he still looks miles away. His scent floods my nose, but it doesn’t do anything except make me feel even more desperate. Mentally, I plead for him to kiss me, to come inside and take me upstairs, to hold me, make love to me. All these things I’m sure will make whatever this is now go away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice horribly fragile. I honestly don’t know how we got here or how to get back, and it’s terrifying. I don’t want to be here—not now. Not now that I’m in love with him.
He sighs. “What the fuck are we doing here, Alex?”
I pull back slightly, frowning at him. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, fuck ...” He looks exasperated as he drags his hand through his hair. “You and me—what even is this?”
Something horrible crawls along my spine, and I feel my stomach bottom out a little. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Alex. You know what I’m talking about.” He laughs, but it’s small and cold.
Do I? I’m certain I don’t. Not at all. All I know is that tonight, when I realize I’m in love with him, he feels like this. All I know is that I feel sick.
“You seriously think I fit in there tonight? With your mates?” he adds.
“You’re not even making any sense. Everyone loved you tonight.”Like I love you.
His head snaps up, a sharp look in his eye suddenly. “Yeah, well, that’s not true now, is it, babe?” His tone is one he’s never used with me before. I don’t like it. “Your detective friend spotted that a mile off, didn’t he?”
That’s the second time he’s called Mark “my detective friend.” I don’t like that either.
“He’s not my detective friend, Jake. And I told you, he does that with every—”
“Everyone new, yeah, you did tell me that. He’s looking out for his mates, yeah, I get it. He also wants to fuck you though. Or maybe he already has.” He cocks his head, something nasty in his eyes.
“He hasn’t,” I say.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, trying to decide whether to believe me, probably, before he turns away. Panic grabs at me, and I feel utterly helpless then. I’ve no idea what’s caused this. If I caused it. How to fix it.
When he looks at me a second later, I wish he didn’t. The look in his eyes is so unbearably cold. So distant.I straighten my spine and take a deep breath.
“I’m not having this kind of conversation with you in my driveway, Jake,” I tell him in a firm voice. “If you want to have a deep and meaningful—which would be a first—then you can come inside and do it.” I unlock the door and push it open, leaving it wide for him to follow. Though there’s every chance he won’t. There’s every chance he’s going to walk back to his car, get in, and leave.
As I dump my bag and jacket by the stairs, I glance back. He looks undecided, but when our eyes meet, something happens, and he moves, stepping inside before closing the door behind him. Relief floods through me as I slip off my shoes and head straight to the kitchen.
I’m filling the kettle when he appears at the door, watching me wordlessly, the thick, heavy tension from the car moving into the room now. A moment later, Fred appears, and I watch as Jake bends down to stroke him. I recall then what he said the first night he came to my house, about how he likes cats because they never give anything away. Was that another warning he gave me? How on earth can I be in love with him when he’s kept himself a virtual stranger?
Who I am when I’m with you, that’s who I want to be.
Maybe I’m not in love with him. Maybe I’m in love with the idea of him. Of the mystery and excitement he brings to my life. It’s cliché, but at least it makes sense. Maybe I want him because he’s everything I’m not. Everythingmy lifeisn’t.
While the kettle boils, I lean back against the worktop and watch him. Fred’s flat on his back now and purring loudly as Jake scratches at his belly.
“Tell me what’s going on, Jake.” My voice sounds sharp in the quiet.
He stops and stands up, lifting his head slowly to look at me. My chest aches. He still looks unbearably gorgeous, his beautiful mouth set in a firm line and eyes glittering with something that frightens me. He doesn’t speak.