Damning Secrets

And the irony was that he had every reason to kill me, and he didn’t know it. It hadn’t been Harry who had fingered him to the Iranians. I had done that. Because he had left me. Because he had gone with Phil. Because he was such an asshole. Because Honey hated him. Because I hated myself for wanting him inside me so much. If he was gone, surely that ache would go with him.

When he was finished, he just stood over me and looked down at me for a long moment. He was standing between my legs. My legs were bent, feet flat on the carpet, but I couldn’t close them. Jack had always left me that way, not being able to close my legs.

Then he backed away from me, scooped his clothes off the floor by the door and pulled them on. He turned to me before he left, and said, “There’s room on Phil’s side of the bed now. Think about the hearing.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just take me out?” I muttered in resignation to what would be the logical answer to all of this.

“You can’t tell why? Because I want you in my bed. I love to fuck you . . . and because I love you. That’s why. You mean you can’t see that? It took me living with Phil to know I loved you, but you’re smarter than me. I thought you could tell.”