‘I hear you, all right!’
Yep, definitely tears. ‘Look, I didn’t understand when you left eight years ago and I was eighteen. What hope does a seven-year-old have?’
Her jaw dropped and that old anger, the old pain, reared up through him. ‘Hell, Jaz! You left and you didn’t even tell me why!’
She’d hurt him. Eight years ago, she’d hurt him. She could tell by his pallor, in the way his eyes glittered. In the way the tiredness had invaded the skin around his mouth.
But he’d married Faye so quickly that she’d thought…
She gulped. ‘Darn it all, Connor, I was only going to be gone for three months.’
‘Three months!’ His jaw went slack. His Adam’s apple worked. ‘Three months?’ he repeated before he tensed up again. ‘Where the hell did you go? And why didn’t you tell me?’
His pain wrapped around her with tentacles that tried to squeeze the air out of her body. She had to drag in a breath before she could speak. ‘You have to understand, I was seriously cut up that you thought I could ever cheat on you.’
He hadn’t given her a chance to explain at the time. He’d hurled his accusations with all the ferocity of a cornered, injured animal—even then she’d known it was his shock and pain talking, the unexpectedness of finding her at the Hancocks’ house, because she had lied about that.
‘Stop playing games, Jaz.’ He spoke quietly. ‘I know you were cheating on me with Sam Hancock.’
A spurt of anger rippled through her, followed closely by grim satisfaction. She wanted—no, needed—him to keep his distance. If he thought she was the kind of woman who’d cheat on him and still lie about it eight years later, he’d definitely keep his distance.
She was not travelling to hell again with Connor Reed. It had taken too long to get over the last time. He hadn’t trusted her then and he didn’t trust her now. He’d jumped to conclusions back then and, on this evening’s evidence, he still jumped to conclusions now. So much for older and wiser!
‘Does it even matter now?’ she managed in as frigid a tone as she could muster.
‘Not in the slightest. I understand why people cheat. That’s not the issue.’
She didn’t bother calling him a liar. There didn’t seem to be any point. Perhaps it didn’t make an ounce of difference to him now anyway.
‘What I don’t understand is why people run.’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘What I don’t get is why you left the way you did.’
The flesh on her arms grew cold. If Faye had deserted him too without an explanation…
Was an overdue explanation better than no explanation at all? One glance into his face told her the answer. She pulled in a breath and did what she could to ignore the sudden tiredness that made her limbs heavy. ‘Let’s just take it as a given that I was in a right state by the time I got home that night, okay?’ It made her sick to the stomach just remembering it.
‘Fine.’ The word emerged clipped and short.
‘My mother calmed me down.’ Eventually. ‘And, bit by bit, got the story out of me.’
‘And?’ he said when she stopped.
‘Did you know that my mother didn’t approve of our relationship?’
He blinked and she laughed. Not a mirthful laugh. Definitely not a joyful one. ‘I know—funny, isn’t it? The rest of the town thought it was me—the rebel Goth girl—leading clean-cut Connor Reed astray.’
‘I thought she liked me!’
‘She did. But she thought we were too young for such an intense relationship. She was worried I’d put all my dreams on hold for you.’
She could see now that Frieda Harper had had every reason to be concerned. Jaz had been awed by Connor’s love—grateful to him for it, unable to believe he could truly love a girl like her. And she’d hidden behind his popularity, his ease with people, instead of standing on her own two feet. Frieda had understood that.
‘She asked me to go away from Clara Falls for three months. She begged me to.’
Connor’s face had gone white. Jaz swallowed. ‘She told me that you and I needed time out from each other, to gain perspective.’ And Jaz had been so hurt and so…angry. She’d wanted Connor to pay for the things he’d said. ‘She told me that if you really loved me, you’d wait for me.’ And Jaz had believed her. ‘I went to my aunt’s house in Newcastle for three months.’ And she’d counted down every single day.
She lifted her head and met his gaze. ‘But you didn’t wait for me.’
His eyes flashed dark in the pallor of his face. ‘Are you trying to put the blame back on me?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, a black heaviness pressing down on her. ‘I’m simply saying you didn’t wait.’
He flung an arm in the air. ‘I thought you were gone for ever! I didn’t think you were ever coming back.’
He’d jumped to conclusions. Again. ‘You didn’t bother looking for me!’
He took several paces away from her, then swung back. ‘Three months?’ He stabbed an accusing finger at her. ‘You didn’t come back!’
The space between them sparked with unspoken resentments and hurts.
Jaz moistened her lips and got her voice back under control. ‘The day before I was due to come home, my mother rang. She told me Faye was pregnant and that you were the father. And that you were engaged.’
Connor dragged both hands back through his hair. He collapsed to the leatherette cube as if he’d lost all strength in his legs. Jaz leant heavily against the wall by the unfinished portrait of her mother.
She reached up to touch it, then pulled her hand away at the last moment. She glanced back at Connor. ‘You have to see that I couldn’t come back once I’d heard that.’
‘Why not?’
‘There’d be no chance for you and Faye to sort things out if I’d done that.’
She didn’t mean to sound arrogant, but it was the truth. For good or ill, she and Connor would’ve picked straight up where they’d left off—in each other’s arms.
He shot to his feet. ‘Am I supposed to take that as some kind of noble gesture on your part?’
That tone would’ve shrivelled her eight years ago. It didn’t shrivel her now.
‘Noble? Ha!’ She glared at him. ‘I can’t see there’s much of anything noble in this entire situation.’ She pushed away from the wall. ‘But a baby was going to be involved and…and I wasn’t going to interfere with that.’
His glare subsided. He bent at
