Page 115 of If By Chance

And then I recognize what I saw in his eyes the first day I met him by the beach.

Pain.

The whisper of a ghost.

Our ghosts are different, but they haunt us the same.

“Don’t you want that too? I see the pain in your eyes every day. Don’t you want a night—just one night—where you’re not consumed by the gaping hole in your chest?”

The fire in his eyes is tamed. It’s still blazing but controlled.

His touch becomes softer as he strokes his thumb across my cheek, following the path he’s outlining on my face, and I stop breathing when he slowly runs it over my lower lip. “It will change things.”

“Only if you let it.”

“You deserve more than what I can offer you, Claire. I can’t give you more. This is all I have. It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. That man is long gone.”

“Good,” I breathe, my lungs screaming for more air. I don’t want sweet and gentle. I want to forget. “I’m not a doll. You won’t break me.” I worry my lip between my teeth. “I’m not looking for a happily ever after. I won’t cling to you. You won’t have to run from me. Nobody ever does. I always run first.”

He flinches, but it’s true. You can’t get hurt if you don’t stick around long enough.

His fingers dig into my spine, as if he’s afraid I’ll fall apart if he lets go.

Maybe I will.

“Help me feel, and I’ll help you forget.”

Or remember.

“Claire,” he rasps against my ear, pressing me flush against him.

“Don’t worry, Jake. I’ve spent my entire life with people looking at me and seeing someone else. One more can’t hurt.”

Another flinch.

This time he drops his hands, and the absence of his touch causes me to shudder.

“Jesus Christ, Claire.”

Well done. You’ve horrified him.

But I’m giving him what he wants. It’s a simple transaction.

For one night, we can help each other.

But when he doesn’t move or say a word, my body tenses, embarrassment creeping in until my cheeks burn, and I want nothing more than the world to open and swallow me whole.

Silence.

And more silence.

More silence than my injured ego can take.

What the fuck am I doing?

Panic takes hold, and the glossiness in his eyes is screaming something at me.

Pity maybe.