The Lover’s Promise (No Exceptions #3)(31)
Author: J.C. Reed

I tensed.

Secrets.

Ugly secrets that managed to ruin any mood. Dark secrets that kept us from building trust. I hated them with ferocity. Hated that they so easily covered everything positive in our lives, until nothing was left.

Looking into his face, I wanted to forgive him, not least because I needed some great make-up sex. But that wasn’t an option until he cleared my doubts.

If he’d just tell me what was going on, confirm that he hadn’t killed Gina, I knew I could start to forgive him. For a moment panic rose within me as I remembered how much we had to clear—so much it felt like it could take all day.

Good gracious.

“It’s already done,” Jett said, his hand still stroking my back. “I’ve announced the news to the board and you’re expected to start next week. As of Tuesday, you’ll commence your new position. I’m putting every faith in you, Brooke.”

Time was running out. There was no doubt. Jett had to tell me everything. He had to clarify, but Jett wasn’t exactly an open book. I took a deep breath, wondering how the heck I could help him open up to me when I had tried before and miserably failed.

“Why are you so sure I want to work with you after all the secrets you’ve been keeping?” I asked.

The pause only lasted two seconds.

“Because I will ask you to.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his hand pulling my hair back. “Colt will get you all the training and everything else you need, though to be honest, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“You make it sound like I’m doing it all on my own.” It was meant to be a joke…until I noticed the tiny twitch beneath his eye and my smile died on my lips.

“What?”

He drew a sharp breath, pausing a little, then exhaling slowly.

“Brooke, there’s a reason why I promoted you. Why I insisted you worked as a project manager and as my assistant. It was so that I could teach you the ins and outs of this company.” My pulse spiked—and not in a good way. There was something in his tone that wasn’t in tune with what he was saying. His expression was so soft, and yet there was a hard edge in his eyes. And I didn’t like it. Jett had never regarded me with this kind of hard stare. Suddenly I could feel him tense.

“I’m moving to Chicago,” he said at last, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

I froze.

He’s moving.

The words kept echoing inside my brain. If Jett made me partner in his real estate business in New York City and he moved to Chicago that would mean we’d be no longer seeing each other.

There would be no us anymore because long-distance relationships hardly ever worked out.

“You’re moving to Chicago?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “We won’t be seeing each other for some time.”

For some time.

Oh, my God.

Oh. My. God.

My throat tightened and my knees threatened to collapse beneath me—like a house of cards.

He made you partner. Sounds like a pity move, Stewart. A goodbye gift.

Maybe even an attempt to pay me off.

Get rid of me.

“For how long?” I sounded so choked I could only hope that he could hear me.

“As long as it takes.”

“What sort of crappy answer is that, Jett? For how long?”

He shrugged, not even caring to look at me. “It might be months. Maybe a couple of years. Who knows?”

“What about the baby? You’re going to miss its birth.”

“You’re going to raise it.” His jaw set. “That’s just how things are.”

My eyes moistened again. All my fears, my nightmares—they were real. I was going to kill him, because he had just killed me with his words.

Bastard!

After everything we had been through, he was going to leave me—pregnant, clueless, and heartbroken.

The statement hit me like a train. He was trying to break up with me, for real. Trying to move on. Start a new life. Miss the birth of his child. He had never had the intention to reconcile or start a family, to be there for his child. That was the reason why he didn’t tell me about Nate’s release, why he had kept all his secrets. He didn’t care about me. Hurt and anger poured through me in thick, heavy waves. Tears started to spill from my eyes. My breath came hard and heavy. Suddenly his arms felt like needles. Painful. Raw. Sharp. I pushed him away, the pain threatening to kill me.

“When were you going to tell me?” My voice increased in volume.

His lips pressed into a tight line, he turned his back to me. It was the Jett I knew—turning his back on me, refusing to give answers. I stared at his back, shocked by his reluctance to explain or try to ease my pain, as he ambled over to a huge bucket filled with ice cubes and stopped in front of it.

“Answer the question, Jett.” I walked after him. “How long have you known?”

My voice shook as I tried to regain control of the raging storm inside me.

In the silence of the room I watched him remove the bandages from his knuckles. They looked sore, but I couldn’t have cared less. I couldn’t have cared less if he cut himself or if he was bleeding. Avoiding my gaze, Jett remained silent as he grabbed a few ice cubes from the huge bucket, then wrapped the bandages around them and pressed them against his skin. The seconds stretched into minutes. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were cold and his face emotionless.

“I’m sorry, Brooke. I can’t tell you more than I have,” he said, turning his attention back to his hand, repeating the words he had said before, “That’s just the way things are right now. Nothing can change my decision.”

I stared at him in shock, feeling like I was about to explode from the inside. My hands trembled. Anytime now, the agony inside my chest would break me. I didn’t just know; I was sure of it. Looking at Jett, at the way his eyes couldn’t even look at me, at the way his mouth was set, I felt the pain deep inside my heart and knew I had only two choices:

Break or get broken.

The pain I felt in my heart was more intense, rawer, and deeper than any emotion I had ever experienced before. If I didn’t do anything right now—anything at all to stop the pain—it would kill me. It sure felt like I was dying from the inside, the seconds slowly ticking like a bomb.

Without thinking, I stepped in front of the bucket and with a brutal force I had stored for too long, I plunged my hand into the ice. Instant pain soared up my arm as the sharp clusters of ice cubes broke through the delicate skin of my fingers. Pulling my hand out, the aching shot straight up my arms.