“Mac!” Jake shouts.
I shove it all off the counter, my chest heaving as I fight for another breath. Everything clatters to the tiled floor and scatters every which way.
My shoulders are grabbed in a vice and Jake gets in my face, shaking me. “Stop it!”
“I can’t,” I gasp.
“You can!”
“I can’t! I can’t breathe!” I press a hand to my chest. “I’m too young for a heart attack. I’m too young.” A few wheezy pants escape my mouth. “This is my brothers’ fault. They’ve gone too far now. Too far.” I jab a finger in Jake’s face to emphasise my point. “And now I’m going to die.”
The world tilts as Jake picks me up, cradling me to his chest. My body jostles as he walks us to the living area. “You’re not going to die, Princess.”
God, my chest hurts. “I am.”
“You’re having a panic attack.”
That’s insulting. I look down my nose at him. My tone is imperious but its effectiveness is ruined by my wheezing. “Fuck you, I don’t do panic attacks.”
Jake has the audacity to look amused. “You’re doing one right now.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I. Am. Not,” I enunciate.
We reach the couch and he sinks down, bringing me with him. His arms tighten around me like a steel band. The tight entrapment usually has me straining to disentangle myself and he knows it, but instead I feel cocooned, as if anyone trying to get to me will have to break Jake apart first.
“You’re bottling everything up inside you.” He touches his nose to mine. “This is your body’s way of trying to get rid of it. Let it out.”
Let it out, he says, as if it’s just that easy. I almost snort, but I’m basically doing that anyway as I suck oxygen in through my nose.
“If you don’t let it out, I will instead,” he warns me.
I can’t let it out. I buried it deep long ago. It’s sealed in a vault where there’s no escape.
We stare at each other for a long, painful beat as he waits.
I give him nothing so Jake does the talking for both of us. “I was wrong,” he admits. “I let you go and I was wrong.”
My eyes close. It aches to hear his confession. He was wrong. We should have stayed together, no matter what.
“Breathe, Mac,” he orders.
My chest is burning. A harsh rasp of air leaves me as I open my eyes.
Jake keeps talking. “I watched you walk down those steps. Not once did you look back. I betrayed your trust and in a single instant, I was wiped from your life. I didn’t realise how much it would hurt. It fucking hurt, Mac.” Jake shakes his head, his eyes distant. “But at the same time I was so proud of you. Your back was so straight as you walked away from me and toward the car. So true. Like the edge of sword.” His gaze finds mine. “That’s what being with you is like, Mackenzie Valentine. One wrong move and you feel the blade slice you wide open, so swift and clean it’s done before you see it coming.”
“You let me go, Jake. Why would I stay?”
“The baby.”
Fire burns my throat. “You think I would honestly keep something like that from you? I was going to tell you, but you didn’t give me the chance. And when you gave me up so easily, I realised you didn’t deserve the chance.”
Pain reaches his eyes. “You think I gave you up so easily?”
My response is a stony stare.
“I haven’t slept a proper night since. Every damn night I lie in bed and all I see is you walking away from me. I work myself to exhaustion hoping that just once there’ll be a night that my head hits the pillow and I’m out cold, but it never happens. And now…” Jake swallows hard “…now I see you walking away carrying my child and it kills me.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask, for the first time being able to force the question past my lips.
“Why did I …” Jake trails off. A grim whoosh leaves his lungs. His hold loosens; one arm lets go to rub over the short buzz of hair on his head.
Seeing his struggle makes me wish I could retract it. I fight his embrace, realising I’m not ready to hear the answer. To hear him say “I didn’t want you.”
He turns his head, his voice firm in my ear. “Don’t.”
I still, unable to look at him.
“Please.”
JAKE
“You were everything to me, Mackenzie.” A lump fills my throat. “You always were. You always will be. That’s why you had to leave.”
“Don’t give me that convoluted, cryptic bullshit, Jake. I get enough of that from my family.”
Mac is fighting so hard to hold herself together. After everything we’ve been through, I owe her the truth. The real reason I sent her away. But I’m scared. It will change the way she sees me. Forever.
“Give it to me straight,” she demands, her chin jutting out. She’s bracing for the hit.
So I give it to her like a neat shot of whiskey. “I killed someone.”
Mac scrambles from my lap and the loss of her warmth is sharp. She rounds on me, her eyes wide with shock. “Jake.”
“I shot a defenceless man in cold blood.”
It’s finally out there. I feel no better for it. Admitting what I’ve done to the person I love above all others just about breaks me.
Mac is looking at me as if she doesn’t know who I am. I’m a stranger to her now.
“Why?” Her voice is sharp, almost shrill. “Why would you do that?”
“He wasn’t supposed to die!”
I stand and she steps away from me. I’m already losing her.
“I got caught up with some bad people, Mac.” I shake my head, feeling sick. “The King Street Boys. I never wanted you involved. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things that earned me a lot of money. The cost of my father’s care was something I couldn’t afford. Not when I was sixteen fucking years old.” I scrub hands over my face. Frustration rises until I’m drowning in it. “He can’t even talk properly!” I cry. “How was he supposed to fend for himself? I know it’s not an excuse, but I felt I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice!” she screams, fury burning red streaks high across her cheekbones.
“I didn’t!”
“You could have come home! You could have talked to me. To my parents. We could have worked it out!”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right.” Her eyes are like ice now. “I don’t.”
My hands clench, itching to take hold of her and force her to understand, to bridge the gaping fracture in the earth between our feet. It’s opening wider with every breath she takes.
“And the man you killed?” Mac asks, her voice stony.
“They were testing me. They wanted to be sure I’d take orders. So they gave me a gun. It was supposed to be empty. At least Luke thought it was, but it turns out it wasn’t,” I say, my tone bitter. “And a man died. That made me a murderer, Mac. And they knew it. They bought my loyalty to the gang with fucking murder.”
Mac swallows and shakes her head as if my words are incomprehensible. And they are because it’s been years and I still can’t comprehend them either.